Serving the Soldier - Part 4 (An Alpha Military Romance) by Helen Grey
Authors: Helen Grey
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many intruders were in the house besides the two that had topped the stairs. It would only be a matter of moments before they started checking the bedrooms.
I fumbled in my purse for several moments, my anxiety increasing as I tried to find my cell phone. I grew impatient and finally snatched up my purse. Glancing toward the bedroom door behind me, I quickly made my way to the bathroom and very quietly closed that door.
I hunched down with my back to the door, knowing that if somebody wanted to get in, I wouldn’t be able to stop them. I continued to fumble in the purse, looking for my phone. Finally, my fingers wrapped around it. I retrieved it, so frightened I could barely flip the phone open. Jax had inserted his cell phone number into my speed dial, but for a second, my mind went blank and I couldn't remember which number he assigned himself. Then I made a face, shook my head, and firmly pushed the ‘1’.
I heard a noise in the hallway outside my bedroom and held my breath. I pressed the cell phone to my ear. One ring. Two. The steps faded and I wondered if they were in Jax’s office. I didn't really care.
Come on Jax, answer your damned phone ! Three. I choked back a sob. What if he didn't answer? What if—
"Angie, what is it—"
I had never been so relieved in my life. The sound of his voice gave me an immediate sense of comfort, but certainly not enough to still my fear. I whispered into the phone, "Someone's in the house."
"Angie, what's the matter? I can't hear you!"
"Someone's in the house!" I hissed, only slightly louder, trying to muffle my voice by cupping my hand over my mouth and the mouthpiece of the phone.
"Where are you?"
"My bathroom! I've seen two so far but—"
I gasped.
Loud voices in the hallway. Doors began to slam. I didn't understand what the voices were saying, but they sounded angry. They spoke in a foreign language.
"Oh my God, oh my God, Jax. You've got to come home, right now!"
"Angie, can you get out of the house?"
I wanted to shout at him. "No!" I hissed. "They're upstairs!"
"Find a place to hide. I'm on my way!"
With that, the call was disconnected. I wanted to toss the cell phone across the room. Find a place to hide? Where? In the bathtub? In the cabinets under the sink? Under my bed? Those were the first places intruders would look!
I wanted to cry, to scream, to rail in frustration and anger. I was so afraid. I didn't want to die—
More voices, and then I heard my bedroom door open. I clutched the cell phone tightly between my hands, so tightly that I was sure my fingers would break. I held my breath. More loud talking, words I couldn’t understand.
I hadn't slipped under the covers before I fell asleep, so for all intents and purposes, my room should appear empty and deserted to them. Would one of them check the bathroom?
With a growing sense of dread, I heard the voices—two of them, arguing softly in my bedroom. Then one of them headed toward the bathroom door. I was sure I would have a heart attack, I was so frightened. My head spun, and for a second, I felt the edges of blackness forming around my eyes.
No, I would not faint! I would not faint!
More garbled speech, and to my horror, the doorknob began to turn.
I scooted to the side, hoping I could hide behind the door once it was open. I pulled my knees up to my chest to make myself as tiny as possible. I pressed my hands over my mouth, desperately trying to stay quiet.
The door opened one inch, then another, then several more.
A shout.
It came from downstairs. Instantly, the two men retreated. I expelled the breath I’d been holding when I heard their heavy footsteps running down the stairs. They were no longer making any effort to be quiet, and it was obvious to me that they thought the house was deserted.
I heard the sounds of breaking glass and cupboards opening and slamming shut. They were looking for something. Finally, it grew quiet. I didn't hear anything else.
Had they left?
Where was
I fumbled in my purse for several moments, my anxiety increasing as I tried to find my cell phone. I grew impatient and finally snatched up my purse. Glancing toward the bedroom door behind me, I quickly made my way to the bathroom and very quietly closed that door.
I hunched down with my back to the door, knowing that if somebody wanted to get in, I wouldn’t be able to stop them. I continued to fumble in the purse, looking for my phone. Finally, my fingers wrapped around it. I retrieved it, so frightened I could barely flip the phone open. Jax had inserted his cell phone number into my speed dial, but for a second, my mind went blank and I couldn't remember which number he assigned himself. Then I made a face, shook my head, and firmly pushed the ‘1’.
I heard a noise in the hallway outside my bedroom and held my breath. I pressed the cell phone to my ear. One ring. Two. The steps faded and I wondered if they were in Jax’s office. I didn't really care.
Come on Jax, answer your damned phone ! Three. I choked back a sob. What if he didn't answer? What if—
"Angie, what is it—"
I had never been so relieved in my life. The sound of his voice gave me an immediate sense of comfort, but certainly not enough to still my fear. I whispered into the phone, "Someone's in the house."
"Angie, what's the matter? I can't hear you!"
"Someone's in the house!" I hissed, only slightly louder, trying to muffle my voice by cupping my hand over my mouth and the mouthpiece of the phone.
"Where are you?"
"My bathroom! I've seen two so far but—"
I gasped.
Loud voices in the hallway. Doors began to slam. I didn't understand what the voices were saying, but they sounded angry. They spoke in a foreign language.
"Oh my God, oh my God, Jax. You've got to come home, right now!"
"Angie, can you get out of the house?"
I wanted to shout at him. "No!" I hissed. "They're upstairs!"
"Find a place to hide. I'm on my way!"
With that, the call was disconnected. I wanted to toss the cell phone across the room. Find a place to hide? Where? In the bathtub? In the cabinets under the sink? Under my bed? Those were the first places intruders would look!
I wanted to cry, to scream, to rail in frustration and anger. I was so afraid. I didn't want to die—
More voices, and then I heard my bedroom door open. I clutched the cell phone tightly between my hands, so tightly that I was sure my fingers would break. I held my breath. More loud talking, words I couldn’t understand.
I hadn't slipped under the covers before I fell asleep, so for all intents and purposes, my room should appear empty and deserted to them. Would one of them check the bathroom?
With a growing sense of dread, I heard the voices—two of them, arguing softly in my bedroom. Then one of them headed toward the bathroom door. I was sure I would have a heart attack, I was so frightened. My head spun, and for a second, I felt the edges of blackness forming around my eyes.
No, I would not faint! I would not faint!
More garbled speech, and to my horror, the doorknob began to turn.
I scooted to the side, hoping I could hide behind the door once it was open. I pulled my knees up to my chest to make myself as tiny as possible. I pressed my hands over my mouth, desperately trying to stay quiet.
The door opened one inch, then another, then several more.
A shout.
It came from downstairs. Instantly, the two men retreated. I expelled the breath I’d been holding when I heard their heavy footsteps running down the stairs. They were no longer making any effort to be quiet, and it was obvious to me that they thought the house was deserted.
I heard the sounds of breaking glass and cupboards opening and slamming shut. They were looking for something. Finally, it grew quiet. I didn't hear anything else.
Had they left?
Where was
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