by Jane Blythe
“You know that, but does she?”
“So how do I convince her that I don’t care about money and the different ways we grew up?”
“You have to connect with her on a different level. You did the all-out extravagant gesture with the Valentine’s Day date in Italy, now show her that you can be just a regular guy,” Soraya suggested.
“I’d listen to her, man, she’s good at giving advice,” Graham said, wrapping his arms around Soraya and kissing her neck.
Connect with her on a different level, he could do that, sure he was used to having money and using it to get what he wanted, but being wealthy didn't define him. He would give up every cent he owned if it would get him his parents and brother back. Florence was his chance to create a new family, not that it could replace the one he’d lost, but he didn't want to be alone anymore. He wanted to share his life with someone, get married, have kids, travel the world, and grow old side by side.
Florence was the only woman he’d met who he could see himself living that life with.
Eli would do whatever it took to prove that to her.
FEBRUARY 16TH
5:00 A.M.
The shrill buzzing of her alarm clock found its way inside her dream.
It took Florence a moment to realize what the noise was and what it meant.
Groggily, she sat up and rubbed at her eyes, was it really time to get up already? It felt like she’d only just dragged herself to bed and burrowed under her covers. She must have fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow because she didn't remember lying awake and fretting.
Fretting.
That was a new experience for her.
She wasn't someone who was neurotic or who worried about things, but ever since she’d met Eli, she couldn’t seem to stop this back and forth argument in her head.
The two sides of her couldn’t seem to come to an agreement. The insecure side of her insisted that she and Eli weren't compatible given their vastly different upbringings, and wanted to convince her that he was only interested in the challenge she presented, being probably the only woman who had ever turned him down. But the part of her that had already survived more than most people did in an entire lifetime, and all before she was old enough to vote, insisted that Eli liked her, she liked him, they had fun together, and there was definitely sexual attraction, so she may as well jump right on in and give this relationship everything she had and see where it ended up.
“You are going crazy,” Florence muttered to herself as she threw back the covers. This new neuroticism was not fun, nor did she find it attractive. She was a practical kind of girl, she liked simple things, she was comfortable with simple things, and this constant obsessing was only serving to annoy herself.
At least her headache was gone.
When she got to her apartment she’d taken the long hot bath she’d so desperately needed before falling into bed, but she’d skipped dinner, and now her stomach was protesting with a growl.
She’d intended to hit the gym before going to work this morning but was rethinking that now. If she went to the gym she’d miss Eli when he came to pick her up, and she felt like she owed him an apology for last night. The headache hadn't been a lie, but she often got stress headaches, and she could have—should have—invited Eli up and let him cook her dinner and give her a massage. So far, in this little almost relationship that they had going, he had given a lot more than she had. All she’d had was doubt and insecurity and consistently turning him down.
Well, it was time to change that.
She wasn't a coward, and she had to stop acting like one. So she’d had her trust violated on multiple occasions, that was nothing to do with him. Would it really kill her to hand out her trust one more time? She’d survived everything else.
“Big girl panties.” She reminded herself as she stood and stretched.
After deciding she’d have something to eat first, then shower and get dressed, she’d hang out here and wait for Eli to come and pick her up. Missing one morning at the gym wasn't going to hurt her, she’d just pester Jake to run with her at lunchtime until he finally gave in. Her partner was not a runner, but he had been known to cave and go with her on occasion, usually after she’d hounded him about it.
Picking up her cell phone from the dresser she checked to see if she had messages. Eli had been going to text her goodnight, but she’d crashed as soon as she got into bed and had missed the message. She hoped he hadn't thought it was because she was shutting him out because she wasn't. Well, not really anyway.
Florence was reading Eli’s text as she walked into the living room when she realized she wasn't alone.
Her gun was in its lockbox in her bedroom, and she was spinning around to go and get it when someone slammed into her from behind. She was thrown up against the wall before she had a chance to do anything about it.
“Stop,” the man hissed. “I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help you.”
“You break into people’s houses to help them?” she spat, annoyed with herself for not being more aware. She was always aware of her surroundings, and not just because she was a cop. It was a skill she’d had to learn as a kid if she wanted to keep her mother’s boyfriends out of her bedroom. Now one moment of distraction was going to get her killed.
“Are you going to stop struggling?” her attacker asked as he pressed her body against the wall, using his superior strength and size to keep her there. He had a leg pinning hers, and his hands wrapped around her wrists as he held them above her head. His other hand was planted firmly between her shoulder blades, and she could barely turn her head to the side.
She knew every self-defense move ever designed, she taught classes, she was a cop for goodness sake, and yet none of that changed the facts that she was five foot one and didn't even weigh in at one hundred pounds, there was nothing she could do to get away from this man.
That wasn't going to stop her from trying though.
Forcing herself to go against her instincts, Florence stopped fighting and let herself go still, the only chance she had was to let him think she wasn't a threat, then when he let his guard down, she’d make her move.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I told you already, I'm here to help you.”
“With what?” It was unlikely he was here to rape her because if he had been he would have gone after her when she was in bed, asleep, and vulnerable.
“Your case.”
Case?
So he knew she was a cop.
That meant this wasn't some random break-in, he’d deliberately targeted her because of her profession, and she had to wonder if this was about the Dumpster Killer case. Was this the killer she and Jake had been hunting? Someone had been watching her apartment the other morning, was it this man?
“Which case?” she asked, if this was the killer then she wanted to get him talking.
“You know. You're close, you know it was him who nearly ran you down the other night, and the sketch that was shown on the news is him, he’s an electrician, his name is Michael Stypes.”
Michael Stypes?
He was one of the two top suspects on their list, she and Jake had looked into him and another man yesterday, they’d planned to go and speak with him today.
How did this man know that?
How did he know she’d nearly been run over?
Was he following her?
Who was he?
There was no way that he could have known about the car that nearly hit her unless he had been there, so he was either one of the people interviewed as a witness or the one driving the car.
Could this be the killer?
Was he trying to throw her off, get her to look at someone else so she wouldn’t look at him? But if he was, then how did he know the name of one of their suspects?
“Are you Michael?” she asked.
“No, of course not. But you need to go and pick him up before he kills again.”
“How do you know
it’s Michael? How do you know about the car?”
“You’re welcome,” he said pointedly.
Sensing that he was relaxing, he’d told her what he wanted to say, and now he was going to make his move. Whether that was to leave or to kill her she wasn't waiting around to find out.
She lifted her leg and kicked sideways, connecting squarely with his kneecap.
The man grunted in pained surprise and his grip on her loosened.
Taking advantage, Florence threw her head back, connecting with his chin and by the pain that ricocheted around her head, she knew she had hurt him.
Twisting enough that she could get her arms free she raked her fingernails down his arm, hoping that she could get a clean DNA sample for whoever found her body if she didn't make it out of this alive.
Using her cast to her advantage, she swung it at his face and slammed it into him.
Pain lanced through her wrist, but she ignored it and swung at him again.
“Stop,” the man hissed. “I told you I don’t want to hurt you, but if you won't stop, you're not giving me any choice.”
There was no way she was stopping.
Obviously sensing this, the man delivered his own blow to her head, connecting with her temple and making her see stars. He hit her a second time, then a third, and a fourth, and by then her head was swimming so badly that she didn't have a chance at fighting back.
He released his hold on her, and she fell to the floor, her legs unable to hold her up.
The man stood above her, but her vision was blurry now, her body uncooperative, and the tides of unconsciousness were lapping at the edges of her mind.
* * * * *
6:40 A.M.
Eli had gone back and forth with himself over coming here, but in the end, he decided that he couldn’t stay away.
He was making a real effort not to push too hard, not to pressure her too much, to take a step back and give Florence some space, but he couldn’t do it. Last night when she hadn't replied to his goodnight texts asking how she was feeling, he’d been ready to leave the ball in her court, let her take the next step.
This morning he’d woken up and known he couldn’t do that.
Something was urging him to fight for her and keep fighting for as long as it took for her to get the message.
Maybe Florence needed to know that she was worth it.
All her life she’d felt disposable, not good enough, her father hadn't stuck around, her mother had put boyfriends and alcohol ahead of her children, she hadn't had friends to support her, she’d been alone every step of the way, no wonder she had trouble believing him.
He’d find a way to prove it to her, he’d fight for her, make her believe that she was special and precious, and she was worth every ounce of effort he was putting into wooing her. He wasn't used to having to work for a woman’s affections, but for some reason that was a turn on, he’d heard the saying that anything worth having was worth working for, but he’d never really understood it until now. It was the very fact that Florence was both strong and confident, and insecure and vulnerable that made her so attractive.
So he would continue to pick her up in the mornings and drive her to work, then collect her at the end of the day, and he already had their next date all planned out for them, only this time he had gone in a completely different direction.
Climbing out of the car when it stopped in front of Florence’s building, he made sure that the flowers were all straight in their bouquet and hadn't gotten mussed on the ride here. Just as he was approaching the door, he saw a man go hurrying out, barging past him and nearly crashing into him in his haste.
As the man went past, he caught a whiff of subtle lavender that reminded him of Florence’s perfume.
Eli froze.
Had this man just left Florence’s apartment?
Did Florence have a boyfriend?
Was that why she had been shutting him out?
It wouldn’t be the first time that someone had used him for his money, maybe when he’d mentioned taking her to Florence she’d thought she’d play along, lead him on just enough to keep him interested, then cut him loose once she got what she wanted.
Anger burned inside him, and he turned to head back to the car.
He was halfway there when he stopped again. What was he thinking? This was Florence they were talking about, she was a cop, she didn't play games like that. If nothing else, he knew she wasn't lying when she’d told him about her childhood, the hurt in her eyes had been real, she couldn’t fake that.
Deciding that he was being foolish, Florence wasn't the only woman who wore lavender-scented perfumes, there was no reason to believe that the man had come from her apartment at all, Eli spun around and hurried inside out of the softly falling snow.
The lift seemed to take forever to arrive, and he waited impatiently. Maybe part of him did believe the man had just left Florence’s apartment and he wanted to catch her in the act to either confirm or deny his suspicions. It was wrong to doubt her, but she had been pushing him away, and he wanted to know the reason why. If it wasn't because she was involved with another man then what was it?
Finally, the lift arrived, and when he got in he hit the button for Florence’s floor a little harder than necessary, but he was angry with himself. He hated this sudden rush of insecurity where Florence was concerned. That wasn't him, like Florence was always pointing out he was cocky, he knew he was good looking, charming, smart, and wealthy, and he didn't believe in false modesty. He didn't tie himself up in knots obsessing over a woman.
But Florence wasn't just any woman.
She was special, and he felt like she had infected him, getting not just under his skin but embedded in every molecule of his being.
The doors to the lift opened, and he strode through them, trying to get himself under control before he saw Florence. If he was all alpha and controlling when he knocked on her door she was going to shut that down pretty quickly, she was a cop, she probably spent all day with alpha males and knew how to put them in their place.
When he got to her door he came up short.
It was sitting slightly open.
For some reason, he didn't think Florence would leave her door open like that. Sure, she’d had a headache when he’d dropped her off last night, but she was lucid and cognizant.
Wasn't she?
Had she been sicker than he’d realized?
Was she lying passed out in there?
“Florence?” he called out as he knocked on the door.
There was no response, and as the door swung further open he saw a body lying on the floor half obscured by the sofa.
“Florence,” he said again, a little more panicked this time as he quickly surveyed the apartment.
When he didn't see anyone else he ran across to her, dropping to his knees at her side. She was lying sprawled on her stomach, wearing only a tank top and a pair of purple fuzzy pajama pants and he could see bruises on her wrist and blood streaking her blonde hair.
With a trembling hand, he reached out and touched her neck, searching for a pulse. He’d never done that before, and at first, he couldn’t find one. “Stop it, calm down,” he ordered himself as he pressed a little harder and was rewarded with the steady beating of her pulse.
“Florence, wake up. It’s Eli,” he added, not wanting her to panic when she regained consciousness to find a man looming over her.
She didn't respond, and knowing he was way out of his element here he pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911 as he stood and grabbed a throw from the back of the couch and tucked it around her.
“911 what's your emergency?”
“I just arrived at my girlfriend’s apartment to find her unconscious, she’s been attacked. Her name is Florence Harris, she’s a homicide detective.”
“Is she breathing?”
“Yes, but I see blood on her head and…” he trailed off as Florence stirred beneath him. “She’s waking up.”
“Please
remain on the line, sir,” the 911 operator requested.
“I’ll keep the line open, but I'm putting the phone down,” he said, his attention focused on Florence. “Princess, it’s Eli, can you hear me?”
“Eli?” she said, her voice weak as she groggily tried to turn over.
“I don’t think you should be moving until the paramedics get here,” he told her, a hand on her shoulder gently holding her still.
“I'm okay,” she insisted.
Since he knew arguing with her was going to be futile, Eli slipped an arm around her shoulders and one under her knees and lifted her up. Carrying her to the couch, he sat down and set her on his lap, tucking her closely against his chest as he made sure the throw was wrapped around her.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I was hoping you were going to tell me that,” he replied as he brushed a lock of hair that had gotten stuck in the drying blood off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.
“There was a man,” she said slowly, lifting a hand to press it to her forehead. “My head hurts.”
“It’s a little banged up,” he attempted a joke to calm both of them. His heart was racing a million miles a minute, and he wanted to get up and pace but didn't want to let Florence go and knew that with a killer headache the motion would probably make her nauseous.
“He…he…he said something important…but I can't remember…” Florence said haltingly, becoming agitated.
“Shh, princess,” he soothed, kissing the top of her head. Florence needed him calm right now, so he’d better pull it together. “It’s going to be okay. It will come back to you, I'm just glad that you're okay. When I walked in here and saw you lying there, and the blood…” He had to pause to drag in a ragged breath. “You scared the life out of me. I don’t want to lose you.”
Florence snuggled closer, resting her cheek on his chest as her hands curled into his sweater. “You were here again when I needed you.”
“I told you, you weren't alone anymore. I’ll always be here when you need me.”
“My savior,” she whispered.