Footsteps moved across the kitchen. I’d lived in the house over half my life; I knew the sounds it made. My heart lurched and fear coursed through me hot and fierce. Grabbing my cell charging on the bedside table, my fingers fumbled over the screen, and I was able to dial 9-1-1. As I did so, I slid from the bed and neared the door, listened.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” The neutral voice came through the phone in my hand.
I didn’t respond because I heard shuffling feet then swearing as the guy—the deepness of the voice was the giveaway—bumped into something in the dark. My parents had placed night-lights around the house when I was young, but when we moved in, Chris was too big for them, and we never put them back.
The house was small. Living room in the front, dining area in the middle, kitchen in back. One stairwell leading down by the front door. If I went downstairs to get out, I would run into the guy. There was no way to avoid him. Another crash. Why was he here? I’d heard that people robbing wanted to get in and out without anyone the wiser, but this guy, he was either a bumbling idiot or didn’t care if I knew he was there.
My heart skipped a beat and every hair on my body stood on end. This meant one thing. He wasn’t in the house for my TV. He was in the house for me.
“Hello? What is your emergency?” The voice was low, but it was insistent from the phone.
“Someone's in my house,” I whispered, not sure if the operator even heard.
I glanced around my dark bedroom. There was no weapon. I refused to have guns in the house with Chris. There was my lamp, a shoe. Fuck! No knife. Nothing! I heard the floor creak between the kitchen and the dining area. That board had creaked forever, and in high school, I used to step over it when I would come in past my curfew. I knew that sound. I heard the operator talking, but I didn't have time to respond. I had to get out of here. How?
I was breathing quickly and quietly, and I wondered if the guy could hear my heart beating; it was so loud in my ears. I looked to the window, my only way out, but I was on the second floor overlooking the street. It was a long drop to the lawn below. Then I remembered. Elation shot through me, mingling with the panic.
Chris’ Boy Scout project. Moving quickly, tiptoeing across the wood floor, then the thick area rug, I squatted down by the rolled-up safety ladder. Emergency Preparedness had been his last merit badge before Eagle Scout, and we’d had to make the house safe for different dangers. We’d affixed these ladders to the windows in each of our bedrooms, leaving them rolled up on the floor beneath. Since there was only one stairwell and no other means to escape the second floor, it was one of the requirements of the badge to add egress to the house. There were smoke alarms, and the chance of fire breaking out being so low, I'd hadn’t thought about them since then. I’d never considered needing them to escape from someone in my house when we’d put them in.
Now, I almost cried in relief at the sight. The window was open a few inches to let in the summer air, but I held my breath as I pushed it up, more, more until it was open enough to toss the rolled-up ladder out, for me to fit through. The rope was thin and light, easily unfurling down the brick wall to the ground. Chris and I had even practiced going down them a few times, my dad taking a turn as well, taking pictures of our efforts for his merit badge counselor. Then, it had been daylight, and I’d had all the time in the world to reach the sidewalk. There also hadn't been a bad guy in my living room. With sweaty hands, I climbed out the window—I didn't remember it being quite so hard to wedge through—and got my feet on the rope. My cell fumbled, and I almost lost my grip on it when I saw the hall light turn on.
Oh shit.
He was coming for me and didn’t care if I knew. With the ladder swinging and bumping into the exterior brick, I went down as fast as I could, my knees and fingers scraping against the rough wall on the way. I hit the ground and ran, my bare feet slapping the sidewalk.
“Hey!” I heard the shout and knew he was at my bedroom window. Oh God, he was going to get me. I ran down the street knowing the trees would block me from his view, then ducked between two cars. I squatted down and tried to catch my breath and be as silent as possible.
Would he go down the ladder or head downstairs and out the front door? Could he even find me? The streetlights cast a harsh orange glow to everything, but the shadows were deep, and I was well hidden.
I needed help. I was in my pajamas, barefoot with a man after me. I had to assume the police were coming. I looked down at the phone in my shaking hand. How had I not dropped it? As I escaped, I must have disconnected from 9-1-1. My fingers shook as I unlocked my phone once again and fumbled to press and swipe to get it to work.
With a shaking hand, I put my phone to my ear. Answer. Answer!
“Emory.”
I almost fainted in relief at the sound of Gray’s voice. While I was desperate for the police, I needed Gray.
“Gray,” I whispered, my breath coming out in silent pants.
“What’s wrong?” His voice went from soft to hard in a second.
“There’s… in my house,” I gasped, unable to catch my breath, looking around. All I could see was the grill and bumper of the car in front of me, the steps of the house to the right and the empty street on the other side. I listened for heavy footsteps. “Kitchen. He—”
“There’s someone in your house?”
“Yes!” I hissed, then pressed my lips together. My nostrils flared as I tried to calm my breathing.
Gray called to someone, said something, but I was too panicked to follow. “Emory, are you in the house now?”
I shook my head, my hair getting in my face then realized he couldn’t see me. “No. I ran down the street,” I whispered. “I’m hiding between cars. I called 9-1-1 but didn’t get a chance to talk.”
“Don’t move.” I heard car doors slam, and I flinched, but it was through the phone. “Baby, we’re on the way. Reed called the police, too. Just listen to my voice. Okay?”
I didn’t know who the hell Reed was, but I didn’t care. Gray was coming. “Okay, but… hurry.”
Chapter 14
GRAY
The second dinner with the PR rep went well, as much as a dinner meeting can go. Reed in a suit was hard to wrangle; he was more comfortable in MMA shorts and a T-shirt than a tie. I didn’t blame him since I never wore one. I was too old for that shit. I wore a snap shirt and jeans, and I didn’t give a fuck if anyone cared. But Reed? He was the fighter. He wore the tie for shit like this.
With a full stomach from the fancy meal, he couldn’t train, so we watched fight videos and talked strategy. The upcoming competition would be in a ring, but training was more than just practice fighting. I’d been relaxed on the sofa, my feet on the coffee table, remote in hand, when Emory called. The rush of pleasure at the sight of her name on the screen still surprised me.
I hadn’t expected to hear from her, knowing she was probably asleep after her third long day at work. I’d wanted to meet her at the ER when she was done, take her out to eat, but I’d had to do dinner with the sponsors of the fight.
This was new to me, the excitement I had when I was with her, near her, or even thinking of her. I hoped she might be in bed and wanting to tell me what she was wearing. I smiled as I took the call, but it slipped the instant I heard her voice.
Just one word, my name, and her fear was obvious. Jesus, there was a man in her house. Emory didn’t have any skills, any way to defend herself. When I'd given her the tour of the gym downstairs and we’d stood in the ring together, she hadn't even known how to form proper fists. I'd had to show her how to hold them up in front of her. I was in my apartment, and she was across town, hiding between parked cars from a fucking criminal.
I jumped to my feet as if cattle prodded and snapped my fingers at Reed, who immediately perked up from his spot.
“Someone’s in Emory’s house. Came in through the back door.”
Rounding the couch, I gave Reed her address for the police. I bolted for the emerge
ncy stairwell. Fuck the slow elevator. Taking the steps two and three at a time, I continued to reassure her while Reed got on the horn with 9-1-1. In the parking lot, I tossed my keys to Reed. There was no way I could drive as I kept talking with Emory. By the time we were in the truck, I was in a full-out panic for her safety, the hot rush of fear and the rage at my lack of control had me gripping the door handle so hard it would probably have dents. The fucker had come in the back door of her house. Had she ever replaced that broken bulb? Shit, why hadn’t I gone and done it for her like I’d planned?
Reed didn’t waste time getting out of the parking lot. For once, I was thrilled he drove like fucking Mario Andretti.
I remembered my dad’s text from the night before. He knew about Emory. From his words, he’d had me followed to her house and knew exactly where she lived. Had he sent someone to hurt her? He’d never done something this extreme to fuck with me, but I hadn’t had someone like Emory before. “Holy shit, Reed. Drive faster.”
“The police should be there soon,” he said, his usual fighting focus now on the road. He slowed to take a corner and the engine roared.
“Is this the one?” he asked as he steered and skidded around another turn. Thankfully, the roads were mostly deserted at this time of night. He was breaking every law, and I didn’t give a shit. If the police wanted to pull us over, they could follow us all the way to Emory's for all I cared. I hadn’t mentioned Emory to anyone but Thor, but it seemed the men knew about her anyway. They were worse about gossip than a bunch of old ladies. I hadn’t heard that she was considered The One, though. Was she The One? Hell yes.
I gave a stiff nod as I held the phone to my ear. “Emory, 9-1-1 will send someone to your house since you called and hung up. Reed called them, too. They’ll be there soon. You don’t have to talk, baby, just keep your head down and stay nice and quiet. We’re getting closer. Don’t move.”
I could hear her breathing, quick and frantic. Fuck, I’d known Emory less than a week, and she was more to me than anyone before—she was everything. The idea of someone wanting to hurt her had my hands tightening into fists. I wanted to hunt down the bastard and beat the shit out of him. I wanted to grab Emory to me, hold her close, sink into her and never come up for air. I needed her scent, her feel, her taste like I needed to breathe. And we’d only kissed. This wasn’t lust. This wasn’t infatuation. This was so much deeper.
“Go through the fucking light,” I growled when Reed slammed on the brakes when the light in front of us turned yellow then red. My head whipped back against the headrest when he switched pedals and roared through the intersection. It was a solid ten-minute ride to her place, but we made it in a little over five. How we weren’t pulled over, I had no idea.
“We’re almost there, baby. I can hear you breathing, know you're with me. I’m going to shout your name when I get there, and you’re going to come out for me and everything’s going to be okay.”
“Yes.” Her voice was barely more than a breath in the phone, but I heard sirens in the background. The guy had to be long gone by now, but I wasn’t taking any fucking chances.
“Pull up here.” I pointed to a break in the cars lining the side of her street and Reed weaved into the space, tires skidding. I opened the door and dashed out. I could see police lights, but not in front of the row of houses. They’d probably pulled into the alley as that’s where Reed had told 9-1-1 how the guy got in.
“Emory!” I shouted and spun in a circle in the middle of the street. Cars were parallel parked bumper to bumper on both sides for the entire block. Everything was quiet. Where the hell was she? “Emory!”
As I lifted my cell to my ear to tell her to come out, she stood up from between two cars. She was like an apparition appearing from nowhere.
“Gray!”
Relief shot through me like I was back in battle and realizing I hadn’t been hit in a firefight. It was a sick combination of adrenaline and sheer relief. She was on the far side of the street, about five cars down. I ran to her, my boots slapping loudly on the pavement.
I slowed within a few feet of her, looked her over, from her shiny bright toenails to her bare legs, tiny sleep shorts and tank top to her tousled hair. It was the look on her face, a combination of fear and desperate need—not a sexual need, but a longing for someone so great that it was almost fierce—that had me pulling her into me. Her arms went around my waist, gripping me tightly as if she were afraid to let go.
As I planted kisses on the top of her head, the scent of coconut soothed the anger. Her frantic breathing moved my arms, and she felt warm, so very warm against me. She was alive and safe, and I never wanted to go through that again, fucking ever.
Reed came up beside us, stood like a soldier waiting for an order. I didn’t move, but I gave the slightest nod of my head to indicate that she was okay. I watched as his shoulders lowered in relief, and he walked away, perhaps to connect with the police who were now coming down the block.
I tried to move back, but Emory wouldn’t loosen her grip. “Is he gone?”
I knew she wasn’t talking about Reed because I doubted she even knew he was there. “Fuck, yeah. He probably left when he heard the police sirens. You’re safe, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you. Baby, let me look at you.” She loosened her grip enough for me to pull back and cup her face in my hands. “Are you hurt?”
Her eyes were wide and bright, her pupils dilated, and the fear had not gone away entirely. She shook her head, licked her lips. I felt little tremors shake her core. “No. I’m fine.”
I wasn’t so sure about that.
“I was asleep, and I heard a crash downstairs. He… swore and bumped into something. I climbed out the window, and then he turned the hall light on. God, he was after me. Gray, he turned the hall light on!”
She was trembling in my hold, her eyes even wider. The panic had not subsided, but she wasn’t freaking out. I pulled her into a kiss, soft yet seeking, as if I could take her fear, her pain away. I broke it off with a gasp, then tucked her back into my chest to soothe her, but it was more for me, to know she was in my arms, and there wasn’t a thing that could happen to her with her there.
I tried to calm my breathing, to slow my racing heart, but what the fuck? The guy had turned the lights on? That was bad. Really fucking bad.
She climbed out the window? How the hell had she climbed out the window? I looked down the long row of houses but couldn’t say in the dark which one was hers. All I knew was that her bedroom was on the second floor, and unless she was Spiderman, I had no fucking idea how she got down without breaking her legs… or her neck.
Reed approached with a police officer. I kissed her head once more. “Baby, the police are here to talk with you. Are you ready for that?”
If my dad was behind all this, the police didn’t need to know about the possibility. I’d deal with him in my own way, in a way that ensured he wouldn’t get away with it. He was powerful enough to slip through the legal system without even a slap on the wrist. I'd seen it happen before, time and again. If he was guilty, I wouldn’t stop with just a slap, and it fucking wouldn’t be on his wrist.
She nodded against my chest then turned so she faced the officer, but I kept one hand on her. Now that I knew she was safe, I wasn’t letting her go.
Chapter 15
EMORY
Gray stood beside me the entire time I gave my story to the police, his hand warm and heavy on my shoulder. His grip tightened every time I said something especially bad, like when I told about the guy yelling for me from my bedroom window as I ran off or about climbing down the emergency ladder. With the police officer’s permission, Reed was escorted into the house to grab a sweatshirt and flip-flops for me to wear, so I wasn’t just braless and in a snug tank top and sleep shorts. When the officer had grilled me enough, we’d gone into the house together to see if anything was missing, but other than things knocked off the counter and a chair moved, most likely the crashing sounds I'd heard, nothin
g had been taken. The back door had been jimmied, and the glass from the broken lightbulb was still on the stoop although crunched into tiny pieces by his feet.
Fortunately, Gray coaxed the officer into having me give a complete statement at a different time. He could tell I was barely holding it together, and I was relieved for his presence, for his taking control of the situation.
When the police left and the neighbors went back into their houses, most likely checking the security of their deadbolts and security systems, the fear returned. “Gray, I… I can’t stay here.”
He turned me to face him, bent at the waist, so he was my height. “You’re coming home with me.”
Relief made me weak, knowing I wouldn’t have to stay in the house right now. I pointed over my shoulder. “But the back door, the police said it was broken.”
“It’s being taken care of.”
How? “But—”
He put a finger over my lips, looked at me in a way that had me swallowing my words. “It’s being taken care of,” he repeated. “Go get some clothes together, and we’ll get out of here.”
I glanced up the steps afraid the guy might still be up there, even though the police had been in the house for the past hour. “Come with me?”
He nodded and followed me upstairs and into my room. I watched him as he took in the bed, the pictures on the wall, my clothes tossed over a chair. None of it interested him as much as the open window, the white curtains moving with the slight breeze. I let him look around as I quickly pulled a few things from my closet. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he checked out the emergency ladder, pulled it back inside until it was a pile on the floor once again.
Zipping up my small bag, I said, “Ready.” He pulled his head back inside and turned to me.
“You said Boy Scouts?” He was looking down at the pile of rope that had most likely saved my life.
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