Ok, I've had my fun. No more cliffhangers. :) Thanks for reading and especially thanks for the reviews!
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Della screamed one last time. The struggle was almost over. She'd fought as long and as hard as she could but it made no difference and her only course now was to submit. The gag in her mouth held fast and screams made very little noise. Her captor covered her body with his and simply waited for her to wear herself out. There wasn't any hurry. Della could barely breathe. She choked on her own tears.
Sensing her surrender, Livesey renewed his amorous exploration of the skin exposed to him since he'd opened her shirt. His mouth was hot and wet on her flesh. Lips moved down her chest, first kissing, then licking and sinking his teeth into her soft skin. Della fought for air. No energy left to struggle for freedom, she began to concentrate on survival. Somehow he had anticipated her every move and in some way countered them, masterfully manipulating her into exhaustion while exerting himself as little as possible. This obviously wasn't the first time he'd attacked a woman and he knew how to break her down, much as a cowboy might break a headstrong colt.
As she ceased straining against him, he stopped biting. Still his mouth continued its journey down to her lace-covered breasts.
Unexpectedly, he pulled away from her and sat up. Surprise materialized in her expression before he smirked and ran his hands up and down her torso then took hold of the last of the buttons that fastened her blouse. Slowly, carefully, he opened each one, exaggerating the care he took in pulling the shirt apart.
"No need to get sloppy," he told her. "I've got all the time in the world. I think we should take this slow, don't you?" He licked his lips and grabbed her shoulders, pushing the fabric back away from her skin, then ran his hands down her chest, over her breasts, across her midriff and around her hips. "Mmm," he moaned, stretching full length over her body once more. The hardness of his groin pressed into her abdomen. Della could feel the bile rising in her throat as he pushed against her, mimicking the act he would commit once the clothing separating their bodies had been removed.
Teardrops balanced precariously on the ends of her lashes, then fell, unimpeded. "Don't cry, baby. We're just getting to the good part!" Laughing at his own joke, he wiped the tears from the sides of her face.
When he released her face, he slid his hands under the material of her skirt, pushing it up her legs, slowly revealing inch after inch of creamy skin to his probing fingers. Della cringed as he touched her thigh. She turned her face into the couch cushion. Despite her innate courage, she couldn't handle this - her mind refused to be a part of it.
The fender belonged to Della's car – Mason felt almost certain of it. Getting to his feet, he moved to the other end of the diner where he had a better view of the parking lot. Sure enough, the sporty coupe occupying the end space was Della's. Mason stared at it for a long moment, then reached for his wallet and moved thoughtfully to the cash register where he paid his bill.
She could've walked to wherever she went. Of course she could have. But did she?
Out on the curb, waiting for the light to change, Mason glanced up at her window again. Something moved. A shadow on the blinds. Someone was in there. Maybe it was Della. Maybe she was angrier than he thought. She could be avoiding him by simply refusing to answer the door. But would she?
The light changed and Mason stepped out onto the pavement. Halfway across the street, the announcer's voice sounded in his head again. 'Livesey escapes.' What did it matter? The man had no connection to them now. It didn't mean anything that Livesey's escape happened at about the same time Della left the courthouse. Did it?
The shaded window drew Mason's eye once more. Nothing moved. The shadow he'd seen had been bulky. A trick of the light perhaps? Or was it someone other than Della?
Livesey was bulky - bordering on being overweight.
The visits Livesey made to his office flashed through the lawyer's mind. He'd ignored the looks and leers Livesey gave Della. Assuming Livesey was just another man who considered his secretary a part of the office décor, Mason had been too busy to pay attention to Della's assessment of his character. There was something different – unsettling – about the man. And Della had known it from the first. She knew how to handle unwanted attention, but Livesey obviously unnerved her. Della didn't scare easily. But the way Livesey looked at her...
In his mind's eye, Mason saw the look on Livesey's face as he left the witness stand that afternoon. It was venemous, murderous. And it hadn't been directed entirely at him.
Mason broke into a run and sprinted the last few feet to the apartment building. The outer door locked automatically. He jabbed repeatedly on random intercom buttons. Someone answered the buzzer just as the door opened and a couple exited the lobby. Not bothering to reply to the call, Mason slipped through the open door and covered the lobby in a few long strides, catching the elevator just before the doors closed.
Della turned her face deeper into the couch cushion. She felt as if she were falling into a deep black pit. Helplessness weighted her arms and legs. She couldn't move, she tried not to feel. Sounds seemed magnified and she heard him grunt as he began to tug at his belt, pulling it free of his pants. Burrowing deeper into the sofa cushion caused the tape covering her mouth to pull on the nubby upholstery. Her tears had saturated the tape, loosening it somewhat. Intent on his task, Livesey didn't notice her rubbing her cheek back and forth against the sofa fabric.
The elevator ride was the longest Perry Mason ever experienced. Each passing second strengthened the gut feeling he had that something was wrong. Something was wrong in Della's apartment.
The tape gave way. Della sucked in air.
Freed from the steel cage, Mason ran down the hall.
Livesey felt the movement beneath him. He stopped fumbling with their clothing long enough to look up at her face.
Mason raised his hand, planning to pound on the door until someone opened it or he broke it down.
Della screamed for help.
Mason froze for a split second, then lowered he shoulder and threw his weight against the wooden barrier.
Face purple with rage, Livesey clamped a hand over Della's mouth. She bit him as hard as she could, flinching at the coppery taste of his blood. He yelped in pain and surprise as the sound of something crashing against the entrance reverberated through the apartment. Livesey whirled and ran for the door.
The door held fast.
Mason backed up and threw his body weight, this time coupled with momentum, against the wood. The frame shattered and the lock broke free. Mason burst through the opening and into the room. Head lowered, Livesey ran at him, as if to bulldoze his way through the lawyer and out into the hallway. With the quick grace of a prize-fighter, Mason sidestepped the attack, grabbing Livesey by the shirt and throwing him to the ground. There was just enough time to scan the room for Della before Livesey was back on his feet. He'd barely processed the sight of his secretary, bound and gagged, when Livesey gained his feet and swung wildly. Mason easily deflected the blow with his left arm and followed with a hard right punch to the face. Livesey yelped and Mason could feel the cartilage flattening under his hand. The would-be rapist dropped to his knees and Mason caught him with a well placed kick to the solar plexus, then knocked him over backwards with a final, crushing, uppercut to the chin. Livesey was out cold.
The sound of the commotion brought Della's next door neighbor out into the hallway. Mason yelled for someone to call the police and an ambulance, then turned his attention to Della.
Propped up on her elbows, Della watched the scene, wide-eyed, her chest heaving from the adrenalin that still pumped through her system. When Livesey hit the ground and didn't get up again, she closed her eyes and dropped her head and shoulders back onto the couch, relief flooding her body, much as the adrenalin had done.
Perry Mason called her name as he reached for her. He finished removing the gag from her mouth and she opened her eyes.
"Did he hurt you? Are you alright?" he asked, his voice choking with emotion. Mason touched face, threaded his fingers through her hair and down over her neck and shoulders, searching for injuries. She winced as his fingers brushed the darkening bruise on her cheek.
Not yet trusting her voice, she merely nodded, then sat up and turned slightly so he could untie the ropes holding her arms. Joints, finally free from the strain of being bound, screamed in protest and she couldn't quite stifle a cry of pain. Still kneeling at her side, Mason began to rub his hands up and down her arms, helping to restore circulation. Della swallowed and manged a hoarse "My legs...", directing Mason to the remaining restraints. Within moments he freed her from the last of the bonds.
Della swung her legs off the couch and began to work at the buttons of her shirt with fumbling fingers. Tears of frustration quivered at the corners of her eyes. Large warm hands closed over hers. Perry looked up at her, the question written in his eyes. She took a breath and nodded in response. Carefully he re-buttoned the blouse, pausing as he reached the top button to run his fingers lightly over the skin of her neck. Dark bruises were forming there as well.
"My God, Della," he whispered. "I'm so sorry." His voice was tight with remorse and worry.
She didn't meet his gaze and instead looked past him to the entrance of her apartment. "Perry!"
Startled into movement by her outcry, Mason whipped around in time to catch Livesey's flying tackle with a shoulder block. Livesey, still somewhat dazed from the earlier beating, fell to the ground.
"You goddamn sonofabitch!" Mason growled as he reached down and dragged the other man to his feet. Livesey took a half-hearted swing just as the lawyer jabbed with his left, then finished with a vicious right hook to the temple. Livesey hit the ground again and Mason lashed out at him with a savage kick to his kidneys. "You move again and I'll snap your damn neck," Mason snarled.
Running feet sounded in the hallway and two uniformed officers appeared in the doorway. They took in the scene and the younger of the two drew his firearm, but couldn't make up his mind who to point it at. Mason glared at them. "This man attacked Miss Street. You've been looking for him – Frank Livesy. Get him out of my sight or he's not going to live to stand trial."