She had never been so frightened in her life, not even when she’d been hit by the car five years earlier. Only her life had been at stake then. This was Derek in possible danger, and she would willingly give both her legs to keep him safe.
She had known that she loved him. She was only now realizing how deeply that love had planted itself within her. How desperately she needed him. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself enough to think of some way to help him. She was afraid to leave her position in the hallway long enough to make a call for help, terrified that something would happen to Derek if she moved.
Long moments of silence passed. And then a muffled exclamation, a grunt and a crash sounded from inside the apartment.
Connie squealed in fear and dropped Summer’s icy hand. They looked at each other for a fraction of a second, then moved in mutual agreement toward the apartment door.
Summer groped for the light switch. When the light came on, she and Connie both gasped at the sight of Derek dragging a large, raggedly dressed, prostrate body from Connie’s bedroom.
He dropped the intruder in the middle of the floor, then looked at Summer and Connie. He staggered as two soft forms flung themselves at him, both holding on to him as if belatedly trying to protect him from harm.
“Derek, did you kill him?” Connie breathed, staring down at the man at their feet even as she maintained her grip around her brother’s neck.
“No, of course I didn’t kill him,” Derek answered impatiently, trying to disentangle himself from the women clinging to him. “He’s just unconscious. Connie, call the police.”
As if he hadn’t spoken, Connie put her fists on her hips and planted herself squarely in front of him. “Derek Anderson, that was the most stupid, asinine, ridiculously macho stunt I have ever seen! Are you crazy, waltzing into an apartment where you know there’s a burglar? What were you trying to do, impress your girlfriend like some show-off teenager? Why didn’t you just do handstands in the parking lot? Don’t you know this sleaze bag could have killed you?”
“Connie, would you please shut up and call the police?”
“No, I will not! I’m not finished with you yet! What if he had…”
As Connie continued to berate her brother, Summer stepped carefully over the unconscious body of the would-be burglar, walked to the telephone and dialed the number of the police station, a number she’d carefully memorized but had never needed before now.
When she hung up, she looked around the apartment, finding her portable television, Connie’s stereo, a camera and some jewelry piled on the living room floor. “He was really going to rip us off!” she exclaimed indignantly.
“No kidding,” Derek responded in exasperation, ignoring the fact that Connie was still raging on at him without even pausing for breath. “Lord, how have the two of you managed to live here for almost a year without this happening before? No security in the building, locks on your door that wouldn’t keep out a five-year-old delinquent. This guy probably had the door open in less-than a minute. If I hadn’t been with you, the two of you would have just walked right in on him.”
“Isn’t that exactly what you just did?” Connie demanded, his criticism setting her off again. “Of all the dumb, stupid, irresponsible…”
Ignoring his sister, Derek threw a dark look at Summer. “The police will be here soon. Go throw some things in a bag. You’re spending the night at my place. I’ll have new locks installed here tomorrow.”
Summer almost bristled at his tone, but remembering how frightened she had been for him, she only nodded and turned toward her bedroom. She really didn’t want to stay here tonight, anyway, she told herself logically, stuffing jeans and a shirt into an overnight bag. Even if the apartment were double-locked and guarded by Mr. T, she’d rather sleep in Derek’s arms.
In the other room she heard Derek inform Connie that she, too, would be spending the night at Derek’s house.
“But, Derek, Joel’s going to be here in a few minutes to take me out,” she heard Connie argue.
“Tell him to drive you to my place when the evening’s over,” Derek answered with exaggerated patience. “Unless you spend the night at his house, in which case I want you to call me.”
“I am not a teenager!” Connie shouted. “And besides, our relationship is not at that stage.”
“Your relationships usually reach that stage as soon as the guy’s finger touches your doorbell.”
“Of all the—”
“Would you two please stop it?” Summer yelled, throwing her makeup case into the overnight bag. “Haven’t we had enough violence for one night? Connie, pack some clothes. I’ll take them on to Derek’s.”
The police arrived, took a statement from Derek with brisk efficiency and hauled their dazed burglar away. “The guy was a total amateur,” Derek muttered disgustedly. “Probably a junkie.”
“Yeah, and what if he’d been wired and armed?” Connie demanded, his words reminding her that she was still angry at him for risking his safety.
“Very few small-time burglars carry weapons, Connie,” Derek explained with strained patience. “If they get caught, the possession of a weapon makes their offense much more serious.”
“But you didn’t know he was unarmed,” Connie argued. “He could have been a professional.”
“In this place?” Derek gestured around the apartment. “Give me a break.”
“Well, thanks a lot.”