Dying for Love

by Angel Nicholas

  “Maybe, but the guilt is fresh as ever.”

  *****

  Matt braced himself half a second before Grace slammed into him. He wrapped his arms around her trembling body and stared at the blind terror in her eyes. Her fingernails dug into his arms, then her expression blanked, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she crumpled like a stringless marionette.

  “What the hell?” Heart slamming into his ribs, he lifted her in his arms. Her head rolled back, exposing the slim column of her throat. His heart skipped a beat. “Grace?”

  No response. The flutter of her pulse beneath the pale skin under her jaw reassured him. Somewhat. He needed to get her home and call for help.

  He took the stairs two, three at a time. Her door stood open. He frowned. Vividly aware of Grace’s vulnerability as she hung limp in his arms, he approached the door.

  “Damnit.” He glanced up and down the hall. Nothing. Nowhere he could stash a helpless, unconscious woman while he dealt with a possible intruder. He thought about thumping on Lisette’s door, but immediately discarded the idea. Too noisy, and Grace wouldn’t appreciate it if he exposed her best friend to danger.

  Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. Apollo. Her neighbor. Mrs. Freeman. An old woman, she’d be on the first floor.

  Back down the stairs he went, careful not to jostle Grace. His pulse skittered and leapt. He glanced at the handful of doors. Process of elimination. He headed for the closest one and banged on the door with his foot.

  A low, throaty growl greeted his pounding. What were the odds? He waited with rapidly waning patience as the door clicked and rattled, clicked and rattled, and finally opened. A petite, white-haired, wrinkled lady peered up at him. Apollo loomed behind her.

  “Mrs. Freeman?”

  “Yes?” Her faded blue eyes swept over him and landed on Grace’s pale face. She straightened. “Is that Grace? What happened? Never mind.” She shuffled aside. “Bring her in, young man. You must be Grace’s boss, Mr. Duncan.”

  The eyes might be faded, her eyesight strained, but there was nothing wrong with her mind. Sharp as a tack. “I don’t mean to be rude, but could I leave her with you? She fainted, but I don’t think anything serious is wrong. I need to check something upstairs, and it’s not…” He hesitated. No need to scare her. “Can I leave her here for a few minutes?”

  “Of course. Set the poor dear on the couch.”

  Matt passed a walker as he crossed the room. He gently arranged Grace on the couch. A sigh passed her lips to whisper across his face, and he couldn’t resist a quick kiss. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured, even though she couldn’t hear him.

  Rising, he turned. Mrs. Freeman was directly behind him. For an old woman, she moved with the silent feet of a cat.

  Her eyes sparkled. “You take Apollo with you. He’ll help.”

  He and the dog eyed one another. “Uh…”

  Paper-soft fingers gathered one of his hands between them. “You take him. I know you two haven’t bonded yet, but that’s a male thing. You’re still circling, sniffing one another, figuring out what role you’ll each play in her life.” She patted him. “Take him.”

  What could he say but, “Okay.”

  Mrs. Freeman turned to Apollo. The massive beast nuzzled her side, gentle as a bunny rabbit. The two met almost eye to eye. Matt had to strain to hear her words, and he did, shamelessly.

  “You take care of this young man, Apollo. I know you’re worried about your Grace, but he’s a good man. They’re two halves of the same whole. Help him.”

  The dog stared at her, slavish devotion clear in his eyes. When he turned those eyes on Matt, he swore intelligence shone in them. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to shrug off the ridiculous fancy. Damn. What a day.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Mrs. Freeman. If she wakes….” He rubbed his neck.

  “I’ll tell her you’ll be right back.” Her small smile held all the knowledge of her eighty-odd years. Yeah, Grace was safe.

  Hound at his heels, he headed out the door, then waited for the snick of the dead bolt before jogging lightly up the steps. Grace’s door creaked. A breeze had kicked up. He paused close to the wall and listened. Silence.

  Glancing down at the dog, he wanted to impart a few words of wisdom. Which made him feel stupid on several levels. Who talked to a dog, let alone gave one advice? Watching the old woman had rattled a few brain cells loose.

  Staying to the side, he pushed the door open. Nothing stirred. The breeze swept through, tugging on the door and seeming to give it life. Creepy as hell.

  He stepped across the threshold, flattened against the opposite wall, and flicked on the light. Apollo leaned against his legs, hackles raised and unmoving. Damn dog weighed a ton. It took a concerted effort to peel away from the wall.

  Matt made his way methodically through the apartment. He searched the closets, under the bed, inside the pantry, and out on the balcony. Nothing. Not only that, but nothing appeared to be disturbed. His hair stood on end. He and the dog made a pair. Not a freakin’ thing, yet they were both wired and on edge.

  He stared around the living room and rubbed his neck. The breeze whipped past him and something fluttered on the couch. Smack dab in the middle sat an old doll with a piece of paper pinned to her ratty dress.

  “Shit.”

  Apollo nudged his head under his hand. Absently petting him, Matt bent down to read the note. He recognized the handwriting on the torn paper.

  Recognize this?

  I told you, you can’t hide from what you are.

  Nothin’ but trailer trash.

  I’m coming to take you home where you belong, slut.

  Now, why would a man who seemed to harbor such a strong dislike for a woman say he was going to take her home? Unless he meant home as in eternal resting place, and that would happen over Matt’s dead and decaying body.

  Apollo whined.

  “You’re right.”

  Pulling out his cell phone, Matt dialed 9-1-1. His thumb hovering over send, he stared at the dog. Great. Now he was talking to the damn animal. Shaking his head, he hit send. The police were getting to be regular fixtures.

  After hanging up with the dispatcher, he paced the condo. Everything appeared undisturbed, down to the damp towels hanging on the towel rack from their morning shower. Back in the living room, he screeched to a halt.

  Grace stood in front of the couch, staring at the doll.

  A litany of profanity rolled through his head.

  Her pretty porcelain complexion turned gray. She swayed and Matt was by her side in an instant, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to him. She fit against him, her lithe body soft and molded to his. His chest expanded. Everything about her was so right it hurt.

  He smoothed her hair back. The curls sprang right back into place, refusing all attempts to be tamed—like the woman herself. Her vibrant green eyes didn’t waver from the tattered doll. Seeing her like this tore him up. Something dark and ugly welled, but he swallowed it back down. He needed to save it for the sick fuck tormenting her.

  A knock sounded and Grace flinched, stiffening. Matt turned. The same police detective they’d dealt with last time stood in the doorway.

  “Not the best idea.” The detective gestured toward the open door.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Grace stirred in his arms and at last turned her back on the doll. “Hello, Detective. I’m sorry to cause you more work.”

  Her voice was soft and extremely polite. Distant. Matt frowned. His arm tightened.

  The detective’s gaze visibly softened.

  “No need to apologize, Miss Debry. None of this is your fault. All part of the job.” He moved farther into the room. “So what’ve we got this time?”

  Grace pulled away and Matt clenched his hands to resist pulling her back. She was reasserting her independence. He could respect that. Didn’t like it, but he respected it.

  “I went out this evening, took a neig
hbor’s dog for a quick jog. When I returned, thirty or forty minutes later, my door was open. I left and…”

  She trailed off. His beautiful girl was reluctant to reveal weakness. Fainting would definitely fall under that category to her. Unsure when he’d begun to think of her as his, he shifted uncomfortably and filled in the breach for her.

  “I encouraged her to stay at a neighbor’s for a few minutes while I investigated. I figured it would be safer. Nobody was up here, and nothing was disturbed or taken, from what I’ve seen. Grace should look around to be sure.” He glanced at her. She was staring at the damn doll again. “I spotted the doll on the couch and called you guys.”

  “Next time, call us first. This guy may be armed and violent. You have no idea what you could be facing. I don’t want anybody to get hurt. Let us do our job, Mr. Duncan.”

  Matt had to admit he had a point. On top of which, he felt like a total ass. The detective remembered his name, but he couldn’t pull up anything more than “detective.” The guy knelt in front of the doll.

  “Do you recognize this?” The detective looked at Grace. And damned if admiration didn’t fill his expression.

  Grace was too busy staring to notice. She stretched a hand toward the doll then hesitated and glanced at the detective. “May I?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. We have your prints on file from the earlier break-ins, so we can eliminate them easily enough.”

  She picked up the doll. With an almost vacant expression, she fingered the age-yellowed dress and matted black hair. And it hit him—Grace and the doll shared a disturbing likeness.

  Grace tipped the doll back and plastic eyelids closed over green eyes. Tipped her upright and the lids bounced open again. Freaky as hell. Kids actually played with stuff like that?

  “I don’t know. There’s something, but I spent time in so many foster homes.”

  “That’s okay, Miss Debry. If you’ll just set her down, I’ll bag and tag her.”

  Eyes widening, Grace did as she was told. “What will you do with her?”

  “Collect a few samples. Determine her age, find out what we can about her origins. Look for fingerprints.” He tipped his head toward her. “Other than yours, of course.”

  “You won’t harm her, will you?”

  Matt massaged the back of his neck. They could chop the thing up and use it for firewood as far as he was concerned. What he couldn’t understand was why Grace didn’t share his feelings.

  “We can try to take unobtrusive samples.”

  “I’d appreciate it.” Her big eyes were full of vulnerability and glued to the detective.

  Matt fought the urge to growl. Down, caveman.

  “I…I think I’d like her back.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  The detective looked from Grace to the doll. For once, he and the detective were on the same page. If he never set eyes on that thing again, Matt would die a happy man. Grace nodded and the detective left.

  “What’s the deal with the doll, Grace?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t explain. It’s just… I look at her, touch her, and it’s like some distant memory is trying to break through.” She shook her head. “That sounds totally bizarre, I know.”

  Matt relaxed a little. That sounded more like the Grace he knew. “Maybe not all that bizarre. The doll probably reminds you of one you played with as a child, or one that another kid you knew had.”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Come here, sweetheart.” He tugged her into his arms. “You scared me, fainting like that.”

  The way she leaned in and wrapped her slender arms around him, stole another piece of his heart. He breathed her in. Soft, feminine perfume, a fruity shampoo and underneath it all—Grace. His arousal was instant, painful, and totally inappropriate.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled into his shirt. “I don’t know what happened. I’ve never fainted.”

  Someone cleared their throat. The detective hesitated in the open doorway, looking irritated and impatient. Matt’s arms involuntarily tightened around Grace. His, every cell in his body proclaimed.

  “This’ll just take a second.” A pair of plastic gloves over his hands, Detective Harrison picked up the doll and deposited her inside a large, clear plastic bag. “We’ll take good care of her, Miss Debry.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for personally coming again, Detective Harrison.”

  “No problem.” The detective faced Grace. “Call me directly if you have any further problems.”

  She paled. “You think I will?”

  “Unfortunately. This guy has made it pretty clear that he’s not giving up until he gets what he wants.” The detective headed for the door. “I’ll have a cruiser do a drive-by as often as possible. I would strongly recommend having new locks installed and keeping every set of keys on you at all times.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

  Matt gritted his teeth. He’d told her to get new locks a week ago. Apparently, she hadn’t listened. The detective closed the door behind him. Matt didn’t hesitate to cross the room and flip the locks. Then he pulled out his phone and opened an internet search.

  “What are you doing?” Grace stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, lines around her lips and on her forehead, tension radiating from every line of her gorgeous body. The sick freak had succeeded in making her uncomfortable in her own home, and that pissed Matt off no end.

  “Finding a locksmith. I want these locks changed now.”

  Grace blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. I’ll pay for it.”

  Dark pink bloomed across her cheeks and fire sparked in her gaze. “Last time I checked, my name is on the lease. My condo, my locks, my bills. None of which is your responsibility.”

  “You are my responsibility.”

  He hadn’t thought it possible, but she stiffened further. An icy mask blanked her expression. Maybe he should have thought that one out first. Ticking her off hadn’t been part of the plan.

  “I’m your responsibility? At what point did that occur? When I became your employee? When you took me out to dinner? Or when we screwed like wild bunnies?”

  Her words cut deeper than he’d thought possible, slamming his defenses into place. He unclenched his jaw. “I may have phrased that poorly, but you’re overreacting.”

  Her arms crossed, giving her full breasts a boost they didn’t need. “I am no one’s responsibility. Now or ever.”

  “Funny, I thought we were in a relationship.”

  “Funny, I don’t recall you mentioning taking over my life.”

  “I am not taking over anything.”

  “Please. Given half a chance, you’d run me as ruthlessly as you do your business.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I thought it was obvious. Inciting terror in your employees and making unreasonable demands of them is a full-time hobby for you. You run that place with an iron fist. Obviously it’s a compulsive thing for you, since you’re trying to do the same thing with our ‘relationship.’”

  The emphasis on “relationship” seemed like a bad thing, but he was beyond caring. “It’s my business. I built it from the ground up, and I’ll run it any way I damn well I please. Leave it to a woman to bring something entirely unrelated into an argument.”

  “You need to leave.”

  Some of the anger drained out of him. Damn, he was making a mess. He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to take over anything here. You call the locksmith. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

  She smiled, the edges sharp enough to slice a block of cold cheddar cheese. “That’s so sweet of you to recognize my capability. You still need to leave. I’m exhausted and desperately in need of some quality alone-time.”

  “Grace.” He reached for her. “This got way out of hand. I didn’t mean to—”

  She held up a hand and he froze. “I don’t really care what you mea
nt. Maybe I will in the morning, but right now …”

  His stomach sank.

  “Just leave, Matt.”

  Frustration left a bitter tang in his mouth. “I’m not leaving until these locks are changed and I know you’re safe.”

  Eyes narrowing, her smile slipped a few degrees. “I don’t recall giving you a choice. If you really are refusing to leave, I suppose I could give Detective Harrison a call.” She held up her hand, the detective’s business card between her fingers. “Somehow, I think he would be only too happy to throw you out.”

  So she had noticed. He dropped his phone into his pocket with deliberate motions and enunciated carefully.

  “Fine. Just please call someone about the locks.”

  “I’m not stupid,” she snapped.

  Neck tight, he headed for the door. Damnit, he didn’t want to leave. Even without all the crap going on, he wanted to be right here, with her. He’d always been a fuck-up when it came to relationships, but he’d hoped to get it right this time. Hell, he’d hung his heart on it.

  “Just go.” The weariness in her voice forced him out the door.

  Matt thumped his head against the wall across from her door. He wanted to rage, but the tattered remains of his self-control were just enough to stop him. Instead, he turned and stared at Grace’s door. His ex-fiancée would be laughing her ass off to see him now, cold satisfaction in her smile.

  “Mon dieu, what ‘ave you done?”

  He wearily rolled his head to the side. Lisette stood in the hallway, the golden light from her condo illuminating an over-sized T-shirt, neon-green leggings, and crossed arms, all of which was smeared liberally with rainbow-bright paint.

  She shook her head. “You’d best come in for a drink, beau.”

  “I can’t.”

  Her slender eyebrows winged north and she studied him, obviously unimpressed by his growl. As quietly as she’d arrived, she spun on her heel and disappeared back into her home.

  Matt sighed. What the fuck kind of man snarled at a little bit of a girl? He slid down the wall to sit on his ass and stare morosely at the door Grace had firmly closed in his face. God, he was pathetic.

  Those eyeball-searing leggings blocked his view, then turned and sat cross-legged beside him. She waved a squat glass beneath his nose. His eyes watered and he jerked his head back, bashing his skull on the wall.