She almost smiled at the thought of that purchase. Her father had actually priced the house at the highest appraisal given, and that was the price she had had to pay for it. At twenty two, that hadn’t been easy.
Thankfully, tourism hadn’t really kicked off in Sweetrock yet, so housing prices weren’t as high as they could have been otherwise. And her uncle had co-signed
She had bought the house the week after she had lost their child.
She hadn’t been prepared for such loss, in more ways than one. When her period had been late, she had been certain — and she had been wrong.
Perhaps she had made her mistake in attempting to forget that night and every other time she had met him or deliberately run into him over the years until the miscarriage. It hadn’t been hard to learn where he would be or when until his uncle Clyde Ramsey had died.
After that, Cami hadn’t heard anything else about Rafer until his arrival in town more than three years later.
Reaching the second floor, she turned at the landing and took the several steps to the suite she’d completely redecorated. Merging the master bedroom with the guest room, she’d created a sanctuary within her home.
All of the rooms, in some ways, were an oasis, a sanctuary that fulfilled whatever varied mood she could have without reminding her of her father in any way.
But tonight, tonight her mood was unlike any she had had before.
It was interesting.
Stepping into her bedroom, she closed the door behind her, her hand still gripping the doorknob as she leaned back against the door. Staring up at the ceiling, she inhaled slowly, deeply, and blinked back the tears.
She didn’t want to be here alone—
A shadow moved in the corner of the room. Quick, fast, like a blur of darkness it barreled toward her.
“Oh God!” Terror washed through her at the sight, at the instinctive knowledge of what it was.
Dressed in black from head to toe, a dark hood pulled over his face, nothing showing but dark, malevolent eyes.
Screaming, Cami jerked open the door and raced out of it, thanking God she had taken off the high heels, as she tore down the stairs to the front door and the security alarm control.
She knew she didn’t have a chance of releasing the locks before her attacker caught her. She couldn’t chance the back door, where there was no alarm control.
She was just there. Her hand slapped it, her fingers reaching for the panic button, when a hard, violent blow was delivered to the side of her head.
Her cheek slammed into the wall. Bells seemed to clamor in her head as her stomach pitched sickeningly with the pain and dizziness that suddenly attacked her.
Vicious, hard fingers suddenly caught at her hair, jerking her back and throwing her into the stairs. As though in slow motion, she felt herself hurtling across the space, unable to stop the fall she knew was coming.
She caught herself against the banister as she stumbled back, hitting a step with her hip as her head cracked against the banister railing. For a second, dizziness washed over her as a wave of raw pain swept through her head again.
Another blow cracked the side of her face.
His fist?
The agony was like nothing she had ever known before. It resounded through her skull, sliced through her brain, and seemed to rip her senses from their moorings. She was trying to scream, but she didn’t know if she was. The wailing clash of sound in her head was so loud.
“You fucking whore!” Snarling, furious, the harsh male voice cracked around her a second before he jerked her up by the hair on her head.
Her hands pulled his wrists, her nails digging at them, searching for bare flesh as she fought to be free.
A second later he threw her against the door as she screamed again, her fingers curling into claws as she aimed for his face.
She was inches from his eyes when harsh hands grabbed her wrists, jerked them over her head, and ripped her gown down the front.
Bucking, her screams mixing with the piercing wail of the siren echoing through the head, Cami fought desperately to be free. Hard, cruel fingers wrapped around the mound of one breast, squeezing harshly as she felt the screaming pain of merciless fingers twisting her nipple.
“I’ll fuck you first, then cut your fucking throat like I should have cut your diseased sister’s.”
Low, vicious laughter sounded at Cami’s ear as she fought, kicking, screaming, until finally her knee struck its target and slammed into the vulnerable balls between his thighs as he moved to shift his weight.
The high, piercing cry tore from him. His suddenly lax grip gave her the chance she needed to throw herself away from him, reaching for the umbrella holder and jerking one of the folded instruments from the opening.
As a weapon it was pitiful, but her dazed mind could only comprehend the point, the curved handle, and the distance it would put between her and her attacker.
She whirled around in just enough time to see the front door jerking open and the black-clad figure disappearing as she heard the sounds of something crashing, yelling, cursing, and the pounding of feet running through her hall like a stampede of elephants.
“You bastard!” she sobbed, her legs collapsing, throwing her to the hardwood floor as she braced herself against the side of the steps. Cami felt her legs folding beneath her as the blows to her head, the terror, and the sudden, overwhelming relief stole her last bit of strength.
With one hand braced around the spindle of the banister, her fingers locked desperately around the smooth wooden support as she laid her head against her arm and screamed out in rage.
Tears filled her eyes, and one even escaped before she could battle it back. Breathing harshly and fighting back what could easily turn into desperate, agonizing cries, she whispered Rafe’s name.
Her dress was ruined. The silk underslip was still intact; her stockings were probably ruined. And if she had just told Rafer about that call during the afternoon, then she wouldn’t have been alone. And no one would have ever gotten the jump on Rafer as he had on her.
Oh God, where was Rafe?
She was cold and so scared. The entire world was spinning much too fast, and all she wanted to do was make the twisting, spinning motions cease before she began retching all over her pristine wooden floor.
“Cambria?” She heard Archer’s yell as he rushed through the opened front door.
She tried to lift her head as he came to a hard, shocked stop. It wobbled on her shoulders, though, causing her sight to careen wildly once again, dragging a moan from her lips. Instantly he was kneeling in front of her, his hands and his gaze going over her quickly.
“Are you okay?” He touched her forehead. The brief touch sent a wave of pain tearing through her, causing her to flinch and jerk her head back a second before she began gagging from the revolving room.
She could taste blood in her mouth. The taste of it added to the sickening, retching sensation gripping her stomach. If everything would just slow down. If it would just stop spinning for more than a second or two, then she could find her balance.
Dizziness rushed over her again, forcing her to put her head down, to swallow desperately and fight the sickness threatening to overwhelm her.
“Did you get him?” she finally gasped weakly when she could lift her head to try to focus on Archer. He looked like he was wavering, slithering from side to side like a cobra attempting to mesmerize her.
Rather than mesmerizing her, it only made her feel sicker, more confused.
Frowning, she knew something was wrong but was having a hell of a time concentrating on what. She knew she was ill, that the blows to her head hadn’t been a good thing.
“How many, Cami?” he was yelling at her, holding up his hand. Or something. He was holding something up in front of her face.
She tried to focus, blinking, almost whimpering at the disorientation and the pain surging through her head once again.
Oh God, she hated not being able to concentrate, unable to think or to rationalize.
“How many?” Archer yelled at her again.
