My Heart Can't Tell You No (57 page)

He hesitantly reached inside. First the neatly creased certificate; Robert Daniel Green. The middle name struck him like an icy slap. Mother: Madelyn Kelly Baker Green. Father: Joseph Daniel McNier. The numbness that had washed away during his attempts to break into the safe was returning in full force. He hardly realized as he reached for the crumbled and torn certificate. John Joseph Green—Joseph McNier. Madelyn Kelly Baker Green.

“
NO
!” Rage fired through his veins as he toppled the heavy cabinet, sending it smashing onto its side. He glanced around the room momentarily before going to the telephone and calling the number of his closest neighbor.

“Hello?” John Baker’s voice came to him

“Hello, John.” Joe surprised himself at his tone of friendliness, but still his voice shook from his concealed anger. Did his best friend know? Did his best friend keep this information from him as well? Did they
all
know? “Jackie and Robby are down there, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. They’re playing. Beth said you and Maddie are coming down tonight.”

“No—no, I—uh—was just calling to see if you could let them spend the night with you. I was planning something, and I wanted to be alone with Maddie tonight.”

“Sure. I’ll take them to the movies tonight if that’s all right with you and Maddie.”

“
Um
, yeah, that’ll be great.”

“Do you want to send your kids too? I’ll take them along.”

“No. No, they’re not here. It’s not their weekend to come out. I just need to know Jackie and Robby won’t be coming home tonight.”

“I think I can talk them into staying. Especially if I invite those two neighbor kids from down the road.”

“Thanks, John.” Joe put down the telephone and started toward the door. He knew he needed a drink, and beer wasn’t going to do the trick.

When Maddie walked into the house at six-thirty that evening, the darkness engulfed her. A strange sensation flowed through her. Something not quite right made her reach for the light switch immediately. There was no light. She thought the bulb was blown. She went to the kitchen and flipped on the light over her sink as she put down her purse and kicked off her shoes. Then, glancing down the hallway, she saw light coming from her bedroom and turned toward it, not hearing the sound of cloth being torn until she rounded the corner to her bedroom and bathroom. As she reached her doorway, her eyes widened in confused horror when she saw Joe tearing up her work clothes before dropping the pieces onto the floor where a small pile had already accumulated.

“What are you doing?” She ran to him and tried to grab the pair of slacks, but, with a simple flex of his arm, he pushed her back onto the bed. “
Joe
!”

He turned slowly, his eyes showing he had been drinking, and drinking heavily. His smile sent chills through her as a reminder of the anger he was capable of. He tore the slacks and dropped them as he watched her, then walked to the edge of the bed where he bent over her, leaning on hands that he placed on either side of her.

“I don’t like those clothes.” His voice was low as his hand slowly moved up to her blouse, then with a quick jerk ripped it open and sent buttons flying. “I don’t like
these
either.”

Anger soared within her, twisting her away from him to get to her feet, and starting for her door as she removed the useless silk blouse, exposing the flimsy bra beneath.

“Knock it off! I don’t go around destroying
your
things just because I don’t like them!”

“Not so fast.” His hands grabbed her hips, jerking her back against him, then yanking the skirt down as the zipper split under the pressure. “I don’t like
this
either.”

“
Goddamn
it,
Joe
!” She spun around to face him, her hand flying up to meet his face before she could stop herself. “
Stop
it! What the hell are you trying to do? Take up Bob’s old habits? Well, let me tell ya, if you plan on drinking until you don’t know what the hell you’re doing—you can just get the hell out right now, because I won’t have my boys exposed to it!”

The amusement that flashed into his eyes made her take a step back and stare at him. His hand found hers and pulled her back easily, walking with her until they were standing at the head of the bed.

“And just what were Bob’s old habits, Maddie?” His fingers were working at the buttons of his shirt.

“He was an alcoholic and you know it,” she said stiffly.

“No doubt he had good reason to drink.” He pulled off his shirt and then T-shirt beneath it.

“What are you doing? If you think I’m going to lay with you now after you just finished destroying most of my wardrobe—you’re drunker than I thought! Either that or you don’t know me at all!”

His eyes met hers, and, although there were still traces of a false smile on his lips, it was his eyes that frightened her most.

“I think you hit the nail right on the head, Madelyn. I
don’t
know you. But that’s gonna change.”

“Like hell it is,” she hissed, stomping past him until his arm went around her waist, pulling her back and throwing her on the bed with a force that made her bounce.

As he walked back toward her, the fury she saw in him outweighed her anger, sending an icy fright through her that rolled her off the bed in fear. She didn’t have time to think, to wonder where the hatred she saw in him was coming from. She only had time to feel and react. Reasoning was beyond her as he grabbed her and pulled her back again, a reasoning that would have prevented her from acting like a frightened, cornered, animal functioning on pure instinct. The crystal lamp was in her hand before she realized it, and, as she was being pulled back toward the bed, her hand rose to stop her attacker, no matter who it was. The crash sounded in her ears—but it was echoed, far away sounding. She saw only a glimpse of the man stumbling a few steps away before she was fleeing out the door.

Joe’s hand went to the bureau to support himself as his other hand felt the side of his face where the glass had shattered against it. How he had managed not to get cut, he hadn’t a clue. He heard the bedroom door slam, sending his rage to an explosion. He hadn’t planned on hurting her—not physically. Not even when she entered and showed him exactly how much her expensive wardrobe meant to her. Not even when she had struck him did he intend to actually harm her. He wanted to hurt her mentally; to use her as she had used him, then walk away and never come back. But that was before she smashed a lamp against his face; before she ran out, prepared to do God only knew what; most likely either run to her family for help or get to a phone to call the police. Well, if she wanted to call the police—he’d give her something to call them about.

He was after her in an instant, reaching her as she rounded the corner to the kitchen. He had her from behind as she struggled to free herself, knocking things from the counter as he and Maddie sporadically moved toward the sink and the back door. He wanted to stop her, and, without reasoning, he reached beneath her, pulling her legs up and bending her forward onto the counter, yanking down her panties in the process. She continued to pull herself away, grabbing for the counter, anything she could clutch at. He opened his zipper and moved up behind her, entering her swiftly and hearing her painful cry at his unaccustomed harshness. He only moved within her a few strokes before she yanked herself away and turned swiftly toward him, reaching for the drainboard that held the morning dishes. Her hand came back with a knife that stopped him immediately as it touched his throat.
Well,
so
the
little
slut
planned
to
kill
him
, he thought with a bizarre twist of amusement. He had known women like her—take from a man what they wanted; what they needed, then discard them when they were through. It was why it had been done to
him
that ate at him, for he knew the answer. He was foolish enough to have loved her. An easy target. She got what she wanted with just the snap of her manicured fingers. He stared down at her without movement, without loosening the grip he had on her waist. She was a sight already, with her hair falling from its matronly bun at the top of her neck to present her as the small girl playacting as a woman. But as her breasts heaved against the thin material he knew and remembered just how much woman she was.

“If you intend using that,
Dear
, it might be more effective if you didn’t use the back of the blade.” His voice was low and vibrating, his words doing what he had hoped as her eyes pivoted from his face to the knife, allowing him the time needed to shove her arm away and grab her wrist.

When she wouldn’t release the weapon, his hand covered hers, squeezing tightly until she moaned under the pressure. As he released her hand his fingers ripped the knife free and tossed it into the sink with a loud clink. He no sooner looked back in her direction than he ducked from the heavy ironstone plate she was swinging. He lifted her over his shoulder in a smooth, fluid motion, turning back to the bedroom as the plate dropped and smashed on the floor.

“Put me down! Goddamn you put me down—or I swear I’ll—I’ll . . . .”

“You’ll what, Madelyn dear? Kill me? You already tried. And could have if you hadn’t mistrusted your own judgment. In case you didn’t have time to notice—the blade was against my throat—and very sharp.” He tossed her onto the bed in a careless manner, turning to close the door and unsnap his jeans, the zipper still being down from the kitchen.

“You rotten bastard! I told you! I don’t want you!”

She was on him without warning, clawing and biting with such an animal intensity that it took a second or two before Joe could fight back. His attempts to push her away were useless, only seeming to drive her farther into her attack, landing punches on his body with a ferocity that was left over from her rowdy teen years. They certainly weren’t the delicate punches of an established businesswoman.

Although his anger was steadily rising, he could have kept it under some semblance of control, but when she punched savagely at his face with her right hand, then with her left raked her fingernails into his chest, tearing skin as she pulled them down, he lost all rein on whatever control he might have had. His fist met her face with a sickening thud that sent her back onto the bed.
Jesus
Christ!
What
did
I
do?
He was dumbfounded by his reaction! Sickened! God, he hadn’t meant to do that!

He quickly stepped toward her to see that she was all right, but she jumped from the bed and grabbed the baseball bat she had been intending to fix for the past month. Her swing was so completely unexpected that he was left defenseless as it slammed into his ribs. When it came at him again he grabbed the end of it and ripped it from her hands then shoved her onto the bed, giving her no time to get back up as he landed on top of her. He was on his knees, pressing her face-down against the mattress with one hand as he yanked his belt free with his other, using his mouth to help turn it into a loop. He released the pressure on her back and grabbed her arm, bringing it behind her as he slipped the loop over her hand, pulling it tight as he turned her over and moved to tie the other end to the bedpost. In the freedom that remained to her, her left hand came down on his back, tearing flesh and leaving it to burn as she clawed it again and again.

“You want the other one tied up as well, bitch!” He growled as he turned and quickly grabbed her hand. “Believe me—it will be no problem!”

“This your new way of getting kicks, Lover Boy?! Your age proving you impotent in a more conventional position?”

“Oh, I’m not impotent, Madelyn.” His hand moved to touch her cheek. “If anyone should know that, you should. Or is that what you’re hoping for? Never to be touched again? To be left to the perverted celibate state you seem to prefer and glory in? I’d guess you were as gay as Rodney if I didn’t know you show even less interest in the female sex than you do in the male.”

Her hand made its way up to his face, leaving it red and stinging before he retaliated with a slap of his own. He moved lower on the bed, seeing she had replaced her panties during her attempt at escape. His fingers ripped her left stocking from its garters, tearing it as he pulled it off. As he moved back to the head of the bed, he could see she was frantically trying to undo the knot in his belt, but was only succeeding in making it tighter. He allowed her to continue as he made a knot, then a loop in the stocking, slipping it around her left wrist and pulling it back to the other bedpost. Her resistance gave him little trouble, for although she had great strength for a woman of her size, in her position, it was useless.

“Damn you, Joe!” she growled as she looked up at him. “
Untie
me
!”