She nodded, her bottom lip gripped between straight white teeth. She really didn’t realize how adorable she was, with her All-American beauty, a houseplant named Fred and a car named Pearl. “It’s in the back. Kai grabbed it for you.”
She sighed with relief and reached for her bag. “I have to thank him.”
“Why Pearl? She looked more like a Rose to me. Or maybe Ruby.” He turned into her driveway. She lived in a neighborhood with cookie cutter houses, but they were all well-kept and charming.
“Because she’s a Mini Cooper.”
He shut the SUV off and looked at her. “Still not getting it.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of Minnie Pearl?”
Realization dawned. “The funny lady with the hats. Hee Haw or something like that?”
She smiled wistfully. “My dad loved country music.” She reached for her door, but he held out a hand, stopping her.
“Don’t get out until I clear the house. Lock the doors. I’ll come back for you.”
“Grant, this isn’t necess—”
“Not up for discussion. Keys?”
She looked like she wanted to argue but ended up dropping the ring in his hand. Good grief, there must be like a hundred keychains. The thing weighed ten pounds. No need for a lock when you could just wing this at someone and brain them.
She grabbed it and held up a key. “This one.”
“I’ll be right back.” He got out and paused. She rolled her eyes and clicked the lock. She might think it was overkill, but he wasn’t taking chances. Carefully palming his SIG Sauer, he glanced around the area. It was a nice neighborhood where people would cook out on the weekends and hold yard sales and the kids would set up lemonade stands. The houses were all dark now, but he could just imagine a couple of teenagers playing basketball down the street. One would hit a shot and celebrate while the other hung his head. He could picture a woman watering the flowers in front of her house two doors down. He couldn’t tell, but he bet they were a riot of colors. Judging from the baby toys littering the yard, as well as the brand-new dog house, he imagined a chubby toddler squealing as she chased a golden retriever while her parents watched with pride, her father shooting video with his cell.
A hop up the three steps to her porch and he tested the handle. Locked. He inserted the key and turned the knob, his gun ready. The door opened to reveal a small foyer that led to a hallway and an open concept kitchen and living room. A fireplace was situated in the corner. Nice. And there beside it stood a five-foot canopy of green leaves. He walked closer. “You must be Fred.” Fred didn’t answer, so he made quick work of the rooms downstairs: a bathroom, laundry, and a small room she’d transformed into a lab. He made his way upstairs to find a spare bedroom, another bathroom and then the master. It was decorated in soft shades of pink and rose, with a flowery quilt and gauzy curtains. A total chick room. A bookcase filled with paperbacks covered one wall. He checked it out, surprised to find she liked romances. Someone as smart as she was, he figured she read Proust or Nietzsche or some existentialism garbage that went right over his head.
Once the house was clear, he jogged down the steps and went to retrieve his charge. She was his case. He had to remember that. When he neared the SUV, he realized she’d fallen asleep. He fished his key from his pocket and carefully opened the door. He slid his arms beneath her and lifted her out. Thankfully, she’d unbuckled her belt. Her purse was in her lap, so he toted both into her house. She didn’t wake as he carried her up the steps and into her bedroom. She barely weighed anything so with one hand, he pulled down the covers and placed her on the bed. He removed her purse and placed it on the side table. He debated on whether to remove her stained dress and decided instead to divest her of her shoes, or rather hospital booties. She’d sleep better out of the clothes, but he just didn’t feel comfortable undressing a woman he didn’t know without her consent. Maybe when Taylor stopped by with the prescription, he’d ask for her help.
After tugging the blankets up to cover her, he eyed his watch. He’d have to wake her up in a couple of hours to make sure she wasn’t suffering effects of the concussion. He stared at her for a few minutes, absorbing her beauty, before clicking off the light and heading downstairs.
He dialed Dante, who answered on the first ring and wasted no time with a greeting.
“We tracked down the cousin. He has an alibi.”
“How airtight?”
“Pretty good. He was out of town. He’s a medical supply salesman and he travels extensively around the Midwest. His boss confirmed he was on schedule, so I’d say the alibi was airtight.”
“Damn, he was my top suspect.”
“Yeah, mine, too.”
“Just because he wasn’t behind the wheel, doesn’t mean he’s not behind the attack.”
“Agreed. We’ll keep digging for dirt. We’re picking up Melody’s prescription now.”
“Change of plans there. She wanted to stay in her own house.”
“We’ll swing by in a few.”
“Thanks, Dante. Keep me posted.”
“Will do.”
He disconnected and headed to Melody’s attached garage. He found the button to lift the door manually and then backed his Escalade inside. He wanted to be facing forward in case they needed to make a quick getaway. After the door closed, he checked all her locks, his irritation growing. They were all basic hardware store issue that any novice could pick. He could be inside her door in three seconds. The locks on the windows were the same. He woke Mason Rossi and told him what he needed. Her house would be locked up tighter than Fort Knox tomorrow.
His phone buzzed a text. Dante was on his way. He waited outside and accepted the package when they pulled up. He thanked them, promised to keep them updated on her condition and then grabbed his go bag from the back of the SUV before heading back inside the house. After a quick shower, he changed into a t-shirt and sweats and went to check on the patient. She was sound asleep in the same position he left her. Damn. He forgot to have Taylor come inside and help her change. He eased to the edge of the mattress and gently shook her awake.
“Open those beautiful blues for me, Melody.”
She grumbled something incoherent and tried to roll over. He held her in place. “Mel, I need you to wake up or I’ll have to take you back to the hospital.” That did the trick. One eye opened, albeit narrowly.
“I’m awake. Happy?”
“I will be if you can tell me who leads our country.”
She huffed a sigh. “President Duquesne.”
“Good girl. Your pupils look good, so you can go back to sleep now.”
Her lids slammed shut and she burrowed into the pillow with an annoyed grumble.
“See you again in a couple of hours.”
He wasn’t sure, but he thought she might have told him where he could shove his wake-up, and it wasn’t anatomically possible.
Chapter Seven
Something woke Grant from a light sleep. He kept still, letting his senses sharpen, focus. He’d pulled a chair up next to Melody’s bed to keep an eye on her. It wasn’t comfortable and even now, the muscles in his neck were protesting loudly. Still, he’d slept in much worse places. Many times.
Soundlessly, he pushed to his feet, palmed his gun and whispered out the door. The hall was dark and he waited for his eyes to adjust before he crept down the stairs. He felt the breeze before he spotted the open door. Pulling out his cell, he whipped off a text to Mason Rossi calling for backup and then he began a search of the house, even though his instincts told him that whoever had broken in was long gone.
He pulled out his SureFire P2X Fury tactical flashlight from one of the pockets in his cargo pants and flashed it along the floor, looking for footprints on the laminate flooring. He certainly didn’t want to turn on any lights in case the perp was still around or watching through the windows. He trained the beam from right to left looking for any evidence the perp might have left behind. His mouth tightened when the beam lan
ded on a piece of paper tacked to the wall with a steak knife. He left it to clear the rest of the house.
He’d explored her house last night to familiarize himself with the layout and all the entries or exits. Besides the front door, there was an entry into the kitchen from the garage and a sliding glass door that led to a small deck in the back. Even though the lock on that door was also crap, she’d propped a sturdy board inside the track, making it virtually impossible for anyone to break in short of shattering the glass.
One thing he’d noticed on his recon mission: Melody was a bit of a slob. Things were piled in stacks haphazardly. Not in a hoarder way, but in an absentminded genius sort of way. Dirty clothes had been tossed at a basket in the laundry room, some making it inside, others hanging off the side or resting on the floor. Mail was stacked on the counter in her kitchen, along with assorted coupons and delivery flyers. Several of the drawers were so crammed with junk, he could barely pry them open. There were no dirty dishes but a peek inside the dishwasher told him that she needed to do a load soon or she’d be using plastic utensils.
The one room that was meticulously clean was her lab. It’d been sterile to the point of obsession. She had purifiers cleansing the air and the surfaces were so shiny, he could see his reflection. All the glass sparkled and there wasn’t so much as a fingerprint on any of the equipment.
The downstairs was clear, so he headed upstairs to do a cursory check, just to be safe. He saved Melody’s room for last, easing the door open to peer inside. She was still out, still in the stained dress he’d been afraid to remove. During one of his wake-up attempts, he’d asked her if she wanted him to help her change into something more comfortable. He’d meant it in the most innocent way possible. She’d given him a narrow-eyed glare and then promptly rolled over and went back to sleep. He figured if it bothered her, she’d want to change, otherwise, he’d just leave her be to rest.
He eased her door closed and jogged down the stairs to study the note. Plain white paper available at any office supply store. The note was computer-generated, just like the one found inside her store. He snapped off a few pictures with his phone. He didn’t want to disturb it until the authorities had a chance to document it. COBRA Securities had a great relationship with the local police, especially since his older brother had once been one of them. He called and requested a unit to the scene. He told the dispatcher that lights and sirens weren’t necessary. The perp was long gone.
He needed to get Melody out of the house so she didn’t have to deal with more questions tonight. She wasn’t up to it and he wanted her to get the rest her body needed to recover. His cell buzzed a text. Mason had arrived.
He flipped on the lights and stood by the door as Mason and the Addison brothers, Noah and Ethan, filed out of the SUV with their guns at the ready. He couldn’t ask for better back-up than two former fellow SEALs and one Delta Force bad-ass.
“We’ll check the back yard.” Ethan and Noah split up to round the house.
“Everything clear?” Mason asked, sprinting up the steps.
“Yeah, except for this.” He led Mason to the note.
“Be afraid,” Mason read. “Creepy.”
“Yeah.”
Noah and Ethan returned. “All clear,” Noah reported.
Ethan crouched down to study the lock with his SureFire. “There are no scratch marks, either on or around the lock or the door frame.”
“You think someone had a key?” Mason asked.
Ethan stood. “Possibly, but this lock’s shit.” He gave it the same look of disgust Grant had earlier. “Any hack could pick it and not leave marks.”
Ethan’s remarks echoed Grant’s assessment. “I plan on beefing up her security, adding an alarm.”
“She needs it,” Ethan agreed.
“Until it’s all set up, she can’t stay here,” Noah said.
“I’ll go wake her up and take her to my place. Cops are on their way. I don’t want her to have to answer a bunch of questions tonight.”
Mason slapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll take care of the boys in blue.”
#
Melody was having the most wonderful dream of being carried in Grant Colton’s strong arms. His sexy spicy scent filled her nose and she inhaled, intoxicated. His arms were like solid bands around her and she burrowed closer to the heat of his body. In her dream she hummed in appreciation.
“Mel, wake up.”
She blinked her eyes open. It took a minute for her to realize where she was. In Grant Colton’s arms. She gasped and struggled but he clamped his arms tighter around her.
“Mel, stay still. I’ve got you.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m taking you to my place.”
“Wait—what?”
“We need to get you out of here.”
“Why? And who’s we?”
“A few of my coworkers are downstairs.”
“Grant, put me down right now!” She had no idea what was going on, but she didn’t want to face his coworkers looking like a crash victim. Even though she was one.
Good to know he obeyed instructions as he placed her on the floor feet first. She was a bit discombobulated from being woken from a deep slumber and she teetered before his arms shot out to steady her. “What’s going on, Grant? Why do we have to leave?”
“Someone broke into your house tonight.”
She stumbled backwards and if it wasn’t for his quick reflexes, would’ve fallen to the floor. “Who…when…” She couldn’t even form coherent sentences.
“It was about half an hour ago and we don’t know who. The perp…uh, perpetrator is long gone.”
His hands still gripped her arms, keeping her upright. Someone had broken into her home? What would she have done if Grant hadn’t been here? Even if she hadn’t been injured, she was woefully unprepared to face an intruder. She was secure enough to admit her weaknesses, and defending herself was a major one. She knew Taylor and most of the other women were proficient at self-defense. She needed to look into taking some classes.
“You look about two seconds away from passing out. I’m going to pick you up again.”
She waved him off and stepped out of his hold. “I’m okay. I just, I need to pack.” She spun around…too fast. Strong hands gripped her again. She nodded that she was okay and he let her go. She made her way to her closet and took out a bag and began filling it with clothes, not even paying attention to what she was packing. She moved to her dresser and opened the drawer, suddenly embarrassed that Grant might see her underwear. She glanced over her shoulder. “Uh, could you turn around.”
He raised an eyebrow, glanced down at the open drawer, which she tried to shield with her body and turned around. Once she was sure he wasn’t going to peek, she thrust her hand inside and pulled out a wad of cotton and lace, hastily stuffing them into her bag.
“I just need to get a few things from the bathroom.”
“I’ll get your bag.” He reached for it and paused. “Uh, here.” He plucked something off her hip and handed it to her. Her face flamed. Of course it couldn’t be a sexy pair of La Perla. It had to be her wash-day white cotton granny panties. That’s when she noticed she was still in her ruined dress. It was ripped and stained and now completely wrinkled. She vaguely remembered Grant saying something about changing out of it, but she’d been too tired to care. She opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a sweatshirt and yoga pants.
After closing herself in the bathroom, she ripped off the dress and tossed it on the floor before she flipped on the lights and screamed.
Chapter Eight
Grant chuckled, remembering the look on Melody’s face when she realized she dropped a pair of her underwear. Her cheeks heated adorably, the red bringing out the blue of her eyes. Even with the cuts and bruises, she was stunning. Even more so because she didn’t realize her appeal. She probably thought the white cotton briefs were embarrassing but all he could do was picture her in them…and nothing else.
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A loud scream rent the air and he reacted instantly. He flew to the bathroom door and tried the knob. Locked.
“Melody? Are you okay? I’m coming in.”
He didn’t wait for a response. Lowering his shoulder, he busted the door open, his gun positioned to fire if needed. No immediate threat as Melody stood alone in front of the sink. He ripped back the shower curtain and then stood and turned in confusion. The room was empty. He didn’t see any threatening notes or any creepy crawlies on the floor. “Why did you scream?”
Her cheeks flamed to fire-engine red. “I uh, looked in the mirror.”
Grant’s shoulders relaxed and he tried to hide a relieved smile, even though his heart was galloping like Justified rounding the last curve of the Belmont Stakes with the Triple Crown in sight. She looked so defeated. He wanted to pull her in his arms and comfort her. Oh, what the hell. He reached out and urged her close to him.
“Don’t touch me, I’m hideous,” she said as she burrowed against his chest, not attempting to move from his grasp. If she’d been serious, he would’ve released her instantly.
“Mel, you are on the opposite spectrum from hideous.”
“Repugnant?” her muffled voice asked.
He chuckled. “Try beautiful. No, stunning.”
She jerked back and gaped at him. “Grant Colton, are you making fun of the poor battered girl with the concussion?”
“What? No! I would never do that. I was being serious.”
“Grant, look at this.” She pointed to her hair. “Birds have taken up residence.” Then her face. “I’m afraid to go outside for fear raccoons will mistake me for their mother. And this dress.” She waved a hand at her body and froze. Apparently, she just realized she stood in nothing but a beige bra and matching bikini panties. Her ripped blue dress was resting in a puddle on the floor. He’d been doing his damnedest not to stare, but hell, he was a man. He might’ve managed not to take more than a peek or two, but his body had sure noticed. He had to adjust his stance to ease the building pressure. It’d taken all his will power to order his body not to respond when her soft curves had been pressed against him.
Say Goodbye to Melody Page 7