Free Now and Again by Brenda Rothert Page B

Ben’s broader than broad shoulders, muscular build and sexy smirk made up for seven months of no contact with the opposite sex. She wanted to taste him and feel his soft lips and rough stubble against her mouth again.
    The faint whine of a floorboard creaking made Layla’s eyes fly back open. She heard the same noise again, and her heart thudded so hard she felt it in her ears. It was that spot in her living room next to the couch where the wood floor always creaked when someone walked there. Thoughts swirled through her mind. Call the police. Lock the bedroom door. Find the mace I stuck in my dresser drawer. Scream!
    But her terror left her trapped in bed, still and silent. She was afraid to even breathe.  Her eyes were locked on the doorway as she waited for a dark form to appear there.
    Minutes passed, and she drew in slow breaths as she waited. Her body trembled when she finally slid her feet over the side of the bed to the floor. She paused to listen, and when she didn’t hear anything, she stood up and walked gingerly to the doorway.
    Part of her knew she was being that stupid bitch she hated in the scary movies she loved to watch. She always shook her head with disgust when they went to check things out instead of calling the police. But the light switch was so close, and she reached forward and flipped it up, peering out the doorway into the living room.
    Nice, Layla. Now you’ll be able to see who’s murdering you.
    She took a deep breath and walked out to the living room, her pulse racing as she fumbled with the switch on a lamp. When she turned it, she exhaled deeply as she surveyed the room. The blue afghan her grandma had made years ago was folded and draped over the back of the couch, as usual. Her Cosmo was still open on the coffee table, where she’d left it before bed.
    Everything being in its place gave her the courage to explore the rest of the apartment. The kitchen was as empty and unused as ever, with barren countertops and a light layer of dust on the stove.
    “Prince!” she called. “Come on, baby, wake up!”
    After a few seconds, he trotted down the short hallway toward her, his eyes drooping.
    “Help Mommy check everything out,” she said, bending down to rub his ears. He followed her as she shoved coats aside in the closet and jerked the shower curtain back in the bathroom, exploring every spot a person could hide.
    Nothing. So she and Prince were alone in the apartment. Did she just have an overactive imagination? She was tired, and wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed after a double check of the deadbolt.
    She squinted at the lock, sure it looked like it was in the upright, unlocked position.
    Impossible. I know I locked it.
    She stepped closer, an ominous feeling settling over her as she saw that it was unlocked. When she reached for the handle and found it unlocked, too, a chill passed through her.
    “Prince,” she called, rushing to the console table where her purse sat and grabbing it. Her dog approached and she scooped him into her arms, rushing out the door.
    The feeling of dread didn’t start to fade until she was locked in the car with Prince, driving toward a downtown hotel. There was no way she’d be able to sleep in her apartment tonight.
     
    ***
     
    At the sound of the fourth ring on the other end of the line, Ben tapped his foot impatiently on his tiled kitchen floor. Of all the days for his sister not to answer. He really needed to talk to her today.
    “Ben, hi! How are you?” she said brightly.
    He sighed, relieved. “Hey, Bree. I’m good, how’s England?”
    “It’s good. Jack’s workload lightened, so we’ve been seeing him more. The boys like their school. Yeah, it’s good, except for being so far from you.”
    “Yeah, I miss you guys,” Ben said, leaning against his kitchen counter.
    “So, what’s up? You never call me when nothing’s up.”
    “What? I call you just to talk.” His tone was indignant.
    “Okay, so are you calling me