Dying for Love

by Angel Nicholas

  What was she thinking? Like falling in love with him would make him stay, when everyone else left. She wrapped her arms tight around her middle. Stupid, stupid little fool.

  Matt’s hand brushed lightly over her bottom. “You shouldn’t look at me like that if you expect me to behave, sweetheart.”

  Acid bubbled in her stomach, curdling everything in its path. Yep, she’d screwed up big time. In love. With her boss. “Do You Know?” started playing again.

  Duh, Grace. Your phone.

  The heat of Matt’s body behind her seeped through her clothes as she pulled her phone out of her pocket.

  “Interesting ringtone.”

  She flicked her thumb across her cell to accept the call. “Grace Debry.”

  “Miss Debry, this is Detective Harrison. Your neighbor called in a report of an intruder. I’m standing in your condo. You need to get over here.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Sheriff John Sanford leaned against a big tree, enjoying the cool breeze coming off the river. He couldn’t say the same for the view. The action on the third level of Grace’s condominium complex held his undivided attention. CSI in their booties and hairnets had just arrived, sending the uniformed police officers scurrying out the doorway like rats before an exterminator.

  He shifted against the bark. Be nice to have CSI guys back home, but small towns didn’t have the budget for high-tech stuff—or the crimes to make it necessary. Handing out traffic tickets and dealing with drunks and domestic disputes about covered the extent of his job most days. There was that time a few years back when old Frank managed to accidentally shoot himself and his best hunting dog while chasing coyotes off his farm. That had been a sight, coming up on the sixty-three-year-old man sobbing over his dead dog. Never mind the blood pouring out of his leg, soaking the fertile field under him. All he’d cared about was the dog.

  “Reminiscing?” Gunner rumbled from behind him, damn near stopping his heart.

  “Shouldn’t sneak up on me like that. You could kill me. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  “You’re too tough for that.”

  Sanford ignored his chuckle.

  Gunner notched his chin at the condo. “Heard she had another break-in. There’s the little lady now, love-sick boss in tow.”

  The curly haired beauty emerged in the open hallway on the first level and Sanford’s chest tightened, barely noticing the big man hovering protectively. Pale and obviously shaken, she still carried herself with poise and confidence. There was a vast difference between knowing she resembled her mother and seeing the similarity in person. From a distance, the way she moved and flipped her hair back over her shoulder, she could have been Cassandra Sathers.

  The back of his neck tingled and he tore his gaze from Grace. Matthew Duncan stood at the bottom of the stairs, his arm hooked around Grace’s waist, holding her in place. She twisted around, a frown pulling at her delicate brows. Her lips moved.

  Sanford would bet his bottom dollar she was giving him hell. Would’ve amused him, if Duncan weren’t staring at him with narrowed eyes. By the set of his shoulders, he wouldn’t hesitate to confront him. Sanford figured the only thing stopping him was concern for the fiery woman glaring daggers up at him.

  Matt Duncan climbed a few notches in his estimation when he followed Grace up the stairs, keeping a close eye on him and Gunner all the way. He knew Duncan would be down those steps again as soon as he’d deposited her into the police department’s safe keeping.

  “Time to move. Nothing to see here anyway.”

  Around a bend in the Greenbelt, he glanced at Gunner. Damn, he was a big sucker. “Wanna explain how you missed seeing Deke get in her place?”

  Gunner shrugged, as concerned as if he’d been caught pissing off the riverbank. “It’s all nature,” he’d say with the same shrug. “Hell if I know. Must be losing my touch. I s’pose it could’ve been the blonde with big tits trying to bounce free and superb ass that jogged past. I was hard-pressed to remember my own name.”

  Gunner’s eyes glazed over and he grinned, the randy old pervert. The woman was probably young enough to be his daughter. A sting of irritation hummed down Sanford’s spine. He shrugged it off. Wouldn’t do any good anyway.

  Gunner shook his head. “If there’d been women around like that when we were young and stupid, there’d be a lot more little Gunners running around. I can’t help wishing they’d dressed like that when I could’ve enjoyed the view without feeling like a dirty old fart.”

  Despite the fine thread of tension pulled taut inside his gut, Sanford snorted a laugh. What was the world coming to when he and Gunner had the same thought?

  “Gunner, you are a dirty old fart.”

  Gunner grinned and clapped his shoulder, almost sending him face-first into the blacktop. “Yep. Deke must’ve gotten sly after all these years, slipping in sneaky as a ferret after a nest of eggs. Maybe he suspects he didn’t do a good enough job finishing you off last week. All he’d have to do is drive by and see your Jeep’s gone to know you hightailed it outta there.”

  “Maybe.” They followed a few more curves in the path. “What’s he after with all this?”

  “Now you’re trying to apply rational thought to a man who’s never suffered that affliction.” Gunner’s hand landed heavily on Sanford’s shoulder again. “That way lies madness, my friend. He’s screwing with her, messing with her mind. Not so sure about this last move, though. Could be he’s royally pissed because she spent the weekend with Lover Boy.”

  Yeah, made sense. Deke no doubt thought of Grace as his personal property. Her screwing around with some other guy would push him over the edge. According to Detective Harrison, with whom he’d had a long chat after Grace ID’d Gunner, this was the third incident in as many days but by far the most violent. At least he hadn’t laid a hand on Grace. Yet.

  They started across the park grass toward the parking lot. An engine roared to life. An old pickup idled forward. Sanford narrowed his eyes and nudged Gunner.

  “I see him.” Gunner whipped out a huge handgun.

  The engine roared. The pickup jumped the curb and Gunner fired. The engine made an odd sound as the shot went into the truck’s grill. Gunner widened his stance and steadied his arm for another shot as the truck barreled toward them.

  *****

  Matt’s shoes hit the Greenbelt blacktop alongside Detective Harrison. He glanced back. Grace leaned against the third-floor railing, arguing with a uniformed officer.

  “How long do you think she’ll stay put?”

  Harrison shrugged. “I doubt the guy’s anywhere close. Not with so many police around. Besides, he did a pretty thorough job trashing her condo. Guy’s like him are cowards at heart—”

  Distant gunshots cut him off. Harrison turned, staring down the path toward Ann Morrison Park.

  “Course, I could be wrong.” Harrison pulled out his cell phone.

  While the detective chatted on the phone, Matt ran. Around the bend and under the overpass, the park spread out before him. A beat-up old pickup, the same one that’d idled in the street outside his house days ago, tore across the grass.

  In a manic version of an old spaghetti Western, two men faced off with the pickup. The bigger guy aimed the business end of a huge-ass handgun at the truck. He wished him luck shooting the freak dead and ridding them all of a nasty problem. The men would be roadkill if he didn’t pull the trigger soon.

  The gun jerked and a boom rolled across the grass. Glass shattered.

  What the hell was he shooting, an elephant gun?

  The big man leveled his gun again. The truck veered sharply to the left, minus its windshield and passed the men. Another shot shattered the back window. The truck jumped the curb and careened around a corner into traffic—driver obviously alive and breathing. Guy must have the reflexes of a cat.

  Tire tracks in the grass showed how close the men had come to becoming hood ornaments. They stood talking, heads together, nonchalant as coul
d be. Two geese glided down to land. Frantic crying of frightened children from the playground contrasted with the gentle rush of the river.

  He narrowed his eyes against the bright sunshine. The men were the same two who’d been standing near the river outside Grace’s condo. Pay dirt.

  Jumping the guard rail, he jogged across the grass. Matt’s first good look at the big guy’s craggy mug almost made him turn around. The elephant gun disappeared and both men crossed their arms, watching him. The wail of sirens announced the arrival of squad cars.

  “You guys okay?”

  “Looks that way,” the shorter one said.

  Near Matt’s height, he had sterling gray hair cropped short. His bearing echoed that of Detective Harrison. Matt looked between the two, glanced at the police officers cautiously climbing from their cars, and abruptly ran out of patience.

  “Why were you hanging around outside the condos?”

  Buzz-cut cocked his head. “We know someone who lives there.”

  Great. Innocuous answers were the order of the day. More police cars pulled into the park and spilled uniforms across the grass. Matt focused on the bigger guy.

  “Why didn’t you go say hi instead of hovering in the trees?”

  The guy revealed a single gold tooth amidst a startling white grin. “We weren’t sure of our welcome. You know how moody women can be. ‘Sides, we’re kinda shy.”

  His gravelly voice grated over Matt’s nerves nearly as much as the evasiveness. Detective Harrison jogged over and shook hands with both men.

  “You okay?” Genuine concern colored his voice. Matt’s eyebrows rose.

  “Right as rain,” the big guy said. “Sorry about the lawn.”

  Harrison patted his arm, a move Matt wouldn’t try even if he were best buddies with the guy. “Not your fault, man.”

  In unison, all three looked at him. Matt crossed his arms and smiled his coldest smile. No way in hell were they excluding him. He wanted to know what was going on and who they were.

  Two minutes later, Matt climbed back over the guard rail, a puppy trailing home with his tail tucked between his legs. He hadn’t learned a freaking thing about those men and why they were watching Grace’s condo. Harrison’s reassurances didn’t mean squat.

  Under the bridge, he ran into Grace. Literally. He automatically closed his arms around her when she smacked into his chest then didn’t let go.

  “What are you doing out here alone?”

  Blazing green eyes met his. “This is public property last time I checked and I’m free to roam at will. What are you doing out here?”

  Okay. She was pissed.

  “What kind of utter moron runs toward gunfire?” She shoved him away.

  Matt eyed her cautiously.

  Her hands fisted. “Anyone with half a brain avoids that kind of scene, but not you. No, you have to get up close and personal.”

  He bit back a smile. She was adorable furious and her concern warmed him. Even when she punched him in the upper arm. He threw out an “Ow” for good measure. Apparently unsatisfied, she shoved him into the fence running alongside the walkway to keep innocent executives out of the river.

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  He opened his mouth, but she kept going.

  “You could have been shot. A bullet could have ricocheted or…” She waved both hands wildly. “…something.”

  He fought it, really he did, but his lips must have twitched because her eyes narrowed dangerously.

  “Sweetheart,” he reached for her. “I was never in any danger.”

  Smacking his hands away, she stepped closer, shaking her finger in his face. “Don’t touch me, you insensitive jerk. How do you know you were never in danger? You’re good at predicting the possible trajectories of a bullet? Oh, let me guess. You moonlight with the FBI and you were the only man in the vicinity who had a prayer of diffusing the situation.”

  Matt crossed his arms, settling in to appreciate the view while she worked the fear out of her system. She stood inches away, up on her toes, voice so low and furious he could barely hear her over the spring-thaw swollen river at his back. The deep green of her eyes and the dark rose along her cheeks reminded him of how she looked right before she came.

  “Not exactly.” Desire roughened his voice.

  “Not exactly.” She spun away, stomping to the other side of the path, and his gaze dropped to admire her butt. “Yet you charged off without the slightest regard for your safety. Why, Matt?”

  The wild fall of her hair was at odds with the tense set of her shoulders. Sighing, he scrubbed a hand over his face. Worry had driven her out of the safety of her police-infused condo. Fear held her lush curves rigid. As much as he loved knowing she cared so much, his intent hadn’t been to upset her.

  “I’m sorry I scared you. I’m desperate to stop the guy before this gets worse. Before he manages to get his hands on you or hurts you in any way.”

  She didn’t move. “What about you?”

  “Huh?”

  “How am I supposed to feel if something happens to you? If you get hurt? He’s already threatened you.”

  No longer willing to stand the separation, Matt closed the distance. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Sweetheart,” he whispered, “he’s not after me. He’s just trying to scare me off. He won’t succeed. Wanna know why?”

  Her breath hitched.

  She ripped free of his arms. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re not safe around me!”

  “Grace…” He reached for her, but she spun out of reach.

  “No. Stay away from me.” Tear-filled eyes gone wide and fingers covering her trembling lips, she stared at him. “Stay away from me. I don’t want to see you anymore, Matt.”

  She turned and ran back toward her condo. Her soft, high sob echoed beneath the concrete overpass long after she’d disappeared.

  After five minutes of moping and licking his wounds, Matt surrendered to the inevitable and followed Grace. Pride mingled with the sting of her rejection. Even knowing why she’d done it didn’t block the hurt. Part of him expected her rejection—the pathetic part thoroughly stomped into the ground by his ex-fiancée.

  The non-pathetic part celebrated the fact she cared enough to kick him to the curb. Not that he intended to let her. What kind of man cowered under his bed and let his woman face some psycho freak alone? A eunuch maybe.

  When he arrived at her condo, the CSI team was clearing out. Grace stood in her bedroom, arms crossed and tension radiating from her frame. It should’ve taken a tornado to create such a mess. She looked so small. Isolated amidst the chaos. Tracks of tears trailed down her pale cheeks. No wonder some of the CSI guys shot him curl-up-and-die looks in passing.

  Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face against him and sniffled into his oxford. Effortless, the way she wrapped him around her little pinky finger. A fact that should scare him spitless. And it would, just as soon as he managed to get off the high of being with her. Fifty or sixty years might do it.

  “Shhh,” he smoothed his hand down her silky curls. Her shoulders trembled and he wanted to kill the bastard. Fitting her curves snugly against him, he patted her bottom and cradled her head. “I’ll help you salvage what you can of this.”

  He doubted much was left. Everything was pretty much shredded. Even her mattress was slashed. Something he resented, having spent some glorious hours buried inside Grace on top of that mattress. He rubbed her bottom, hugging her tight, longing to shelter her from her surroundings.

  Detective Harrison stuck his head in the door and Matt debated doing the idiot bodily harm. The guy’s gaze focused on the spot where his hand cradled her luscious bottom. A growl built at the back of his throat. Harrison had no business looking at Grace’s butt.

  “Excuse me.” The detective lounged against the doorway.

  Grace jerked away. Matt fisted his hands and stuffed them in his pockets. From the smirk on
Harrison’s face, he knew it too. Dislike swirled hot, growing when embarrassment pinked Grace’s face.

  She cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her right ear. “What can I do for you?”

  “We’re done here. If you need any help with the mess—”

  “No.” She flashed a brief smile, her blush deepening. “I’m fine. You’ve done enough. Thank you.”

  The increased level of her discomfort raised Matt’s hackles. He glared at Harrison. The detective smirked. Oh, hell no. Hands coming out of his pockets, he stepped forward.

  Smirk gone, Harrison straightened. “Well, I’m off.” He bolted.

  Three minutes too late, by Matt’s estimation. Grace picked up a scrap of light pink. Layer upon layer of strips dangled from her fingers.

  “This used to be my favorite sweater.”

  He grimaced. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We can buy another one. As a matter of fact, let’s head out. We can pick up whatever you need for the rest of the week.”

  “But…” She looked around, then her shoulders sagged. “I’m pretty sure there’s no point in sorting through this. It’s obvious nothing is salvageable. Why do you keep saying ‘we’?”

  “Because it wouldn’t make much sense to drive all over the place separately. Or safe, considering what this lunatic did today. We can leave your car in the garage at my place while we’re gone. I don’t mind parking in the driveway.”

  “Parking in the driveway,” Grace echoed softly.

  He frowned. “Yeah. I don’t mind. No big deal. I know how fond you are of your car, how hard you worked to save up for it and all.”

  “I’m not staying at your house, Matt.”

  “Why not? I can protect you there. You’ll be safe. And I…” Damn, it was hard to lay it on the line. “I want to be with you. I want you there. I really…care about you.”

  Chicken shit.

  She snorted. “I ‘care’ about you too. Which is why there is no way on God’s green earth I am moving into your house.” She kicked a pile of clothes near her bathroom. “Bring this mess down around your ears? I don’t think so.”