He fished in his pocket and found the flashlight and flicked it on. Shit everywhere. In boxes, in piles, covering the floor, you name it.
“Who’s there?”
Rocky froze at the voice. He scrambled to his feet and plastered himself against the wall. When an arm appeared with a gun, his instincts took over and he kicked out, sending the gun flying. The man cursed and then disappeared. Rocky winced at the thump, thump, thumps and chanced a peek. His eyes widened in horror as the man rolled and tumbled down the stairs and landed at the bottom with a sickening thud, his neck bent at an impossible angle. Then there was nothing but silence. Not a moan or a cry or a plea for help.
“Oh God, oh God.” Rocky had done some questionable things in his life, most of them the illegal variety, but he’d never killed a person before. He knew without checking that the man was most definitely dead. He bolted for the window and almost tripped over the gun lying on the floor. He picked it up with his gloved hand and hurried down the stairs, trying not to gag, and dropped it by the man’s outstretched hand. He raced back up the steps and practically dove out the window. He was halfway down the rungs but stopped and went back to close the window. When his feet hit the ground, he muscled the ladder back under the house next door. Then he took off for the motel at a jog that ended up a dead run.
Chapter Fifteen
Hillary woke refreshed after a dreamless night, and donned her running clothes. She planned on logging a few miles before coming back to shower and then relieving Mack from his guard duties. Maybe if she took him a steaming cup of coffee, he wouldn’t bite her head off this morning. One could hope.
After four miles, she and Kota turned and headed back. The beach was deserted this early and the sun had yet to make an appearance on the horizon. When they entered the cottage, the note she’d left for Reed was still propped on the table. She filled Kota’s bowl with fresh food and water, turned on the coffee maker and padded to her room to shower.
Once she toweled off, she started to dress, but remembered she was officially on a job. She fingered her Kevlar vest. She hadn’t worn one since Greece…hadn’t had the need to wear one. It was company policy that she donned it at all times when on the job and she was supremely thankful she had one on that day. It was a fluke that a bullet entered under her arm where the vest didn’t cover, but hers stopped other bullets from penetrating her body. She’d surely be dead otherwise.
She picked up the lightweight vest. It was a different one than she wore before since that vest sported several bullet holes. It wasn’t bulky and fit easily under her clothes. She chose a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. When Reed’s show began to film, she’d wear more professional clothes in case she was caught on camera, though she would do everything in her power to stay out of range. Thinking of the show reminded her that she needed to call Kayla and ask her to send some of her khakis and COBRA shirts. On second thought, why call when she could text and avoid the third degree.
She fired off a quick text and then padded to the kitchen. Reed was stumbling from his room, looking like a zombie, dressed in the same clothes as last night. “I smell coffee.”
She smiled and poured him a mug. She waited for him to take a sip before she asked, “Do you need help with your clothes?”
He looked down at what he was wearing. “Nah, I fell asleep before I could change. I’m going to jump into the shower once this stuff kicks in.”
She removed another cup from the cabinet and filled it. “I’m going to take this to Mr. Arnold, hoping it acts as a peace offering.”
“What if he takes cream and sugar?” Reed asked with a twinkle in his eye.
She smiled. “I guess it’s a chance I have to take.”
Reed saluted her with his mug. “Good luck.”
Hillary grabbed her keys and headed next door, dialing Mack’s cell to let him know she was on the way. His phone kicked over to voice mail. Maybe he was in the bathroom. She climbed the stairs and knocked. No answer. She inserted her key and opened the door. “Mr. Arnold. It’s Hillary Billings. I’ve come to relieve you so you can go home.” Again, silence. He wouldn’t have left already, would he? No, he was ornery and impossible, but Kellan assured her he took his duties seriously. She placed the mug of steaming coffee on the kitchen counter and withdrew her gun. It was eerily silent except for the steady drip from the faucet and the dull roar of the waves outside. Easing into the great room, she scanned the area. The house felt empty. Rounding a corner gun-first, she came to an abrupt halt. Mack Arnold was lying at the bottom of the stairs, his neck twisted grotesquely. She knew without checking there’d be no pulse, but she tried anyway. Nothing, and his skin was cold and clammy.
She listened for any other sounds. If this wasn’t an accident, someone could still be inside. She moved around his body, doing her best not to disturb the crime scene, and tiptoed upstairs. It was piled with junk, but otherwise empty. She felt a slight draft and noticed one window slanted awkwardly, like it’d been shut in a hurry. She pulled out her cell and dialed as she eased back down the steps to clear the rest of the house.
“Polizzi.”
“Kellan, it’s Hillary Billings. Mack Arnold is dead.”
“What?”
“I just found him lying at the bottom of the staircase. His neck is broken. I cleared the house and checked all the locks. They’re intact and don’t look like they’ve been tampered with.”
“You think it was an accident?” She heard the concern in his voice. He wondered if Mack had been drinking on the job.
“It looks that way. And Kellan, there are no empty bottles and I don’t smell alcohol.”
His sigh sounded through the lines. “Good. I’m on my way. I’ll get a forensics team dispatched.”
She hung up and glanced down at the old man. “I’m sorry, Mack.”
She needed to let Reed know what happened before all the emergency vehicles arrived. She hurried out the door and entered the cottage. Kota scrambled to her and wagged his tail but he was so attuned to her moods, he snapped to attention. She tried to reassure him by scratching behind his ears where he liked it but he was having nothing of it. His posture was defensive and he butted against her legs. “You know, don’t you boy. Where’s Reed?”
Kota started down the hall but Reed stepped out of his room with a towel wrapped around his waist. His bare chest glistened with water. One droplet rolled down his eight-pack, following the peaks and valleys. She was mesmerized. Then she remembered he was a client and jerked her eyes up, hoping she hadn’t been caught ogling. Thankfully he was patting his face dry with a towel. “Did you call for me?”
“Mack Arnold is dead.”
Reed dropped the cloth and gaped at her. “What?”
“I just found him at the bottom of the steps. His neck is broken.”
“Accident?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let me change.”
“You stay here with Kota.”
She thought he mumbled “like hell” before his bedroom door slammed. She knew there was no way Reed would stay so she grabbed Kota’s leash and snapped it on. Her hand was on the doorknob when Reed caught up with her. He hurried down the steps and across the small patch of gravel. “Reed, wait before you go in. It’s a potential crime scene. We don’t want to disturb it.”
“Got it.”
They stood on the porch and waited for the police to arrive. Sirens sounded and then a car swung into the parking area and killed the sound. Another vehicle pulled in behind it and Detective Polizzi got out. “I’m starting to hate this house,” he mumbled. He marched up the steps and entered the house. Hillary and Reed trailed him in, followed by the two uniforms. She made sure they stood out of the way while Kellan uselessly checked for a pulse and then examined the area. “He had his gun out.” He indicated the weapon lying next to the body. “He might’ve heard something.”
“One of the windows upstairs is askew. Maybe wind whistled through the crack and he was headed to check
it out.”
Kellan stood, his hands on his hips. “I think he’d have realized that when he ran through the house earlier. He is…was,” Kellan grimaced, “sharp as a tack. He’d have noticed.” He jogged up the steps two at a time. When he returned, he shrugged. “He might not have seen it. It was a small gap.”
“He was alive when we returned from the hospital. I saw him looking out the window.”
“What time was that?”
“Around ten thirty.”
He raised his brows at Reed. “Did you have a relapse?”
Reed glanced at her and she knew a blush stained her cheeks. The curse of the fair-skinned.
“I inadvertently got sand in the cast. They had to replace it.”
“Looks like that one’s fiberglass. Better choice.”
Soon the house became a beehive of activity as more people entered, some in uniforms, some in plain clothes. Radios squawked and voices buzzed. Kota sat watchful against her legs.
An hour later, a middle-aged woman with silver hair breezed inside, the word Coroner emblazoned in yellow across her blue jacket. Kellan introduced her as Linda Sterns. She studied the scene and the body. After checking for rigor and making sure the body was photographed at every angle, she gave the unofficial cause of death as an accidental fall that resulted in a cervical fracture, pending an autopsy and investigation. She listed the time of death at approximately two in the morning.
“At least he’s with his wife now,” Kellan murmured as they watched two men load Mack into a black bag and zip it shut.
Hillary felt a wave of sadness. Was there something she could’ve done to prevent his death? “I need to call my bosses.” She dialed the main line and spoke with BeBe Davis, the office manager extraordinaire, asking her to have Luke and Logan conference call her when they were available. Ten minutes later, her cell buzzed. She filled them in on the latest developments.
“Do you want us to send more agents?” Logan asked.
“Not yet. This could just be an accident.”
“Sounds like the house might be haunted,” Luke said, not entirely joking. “Pete’s got all the equipment you need. It’ll be there today.”
“We’ve already contacted someone to install it, so you should be all set to go,” Logan added. “Top of the line with some of Pete and Tyler’s tweaks.”
Peter Dennis was the head of COBRA Securities computer and technical operations and Tyler Redmond was their resident mad genius. Between the two of them, Hillary truly thought they could rule the world.
She felt better after disconnecting. The system would be installed with cameras. If anyone tried to break in again, it would send an alert to her phone. She planned on spending the day going through all the junk in the house to see if there was something of value that would cause someone to repeatedly break and enter.
#
While Hillary spoke to her bosses, Reed made a few calls of his own. The first was to Connie to let her know what had happened. Next, he phoned the company they’d contracted with to rent dumpsters for the reno and requested one for today, okaying the additional expense. There was something in this house that someone wanted and they might even be desperate enough to kill to get it. They needed to find it before he did.
He hadn’t faced the obstacle of clearing a house before. This was a unique situation in that the owner passed away without any heirs. Technically, everything in the house belonged to Josh Hannigan, the new owner, but he’d instructed Reed to get rid of it all. If there were items they could donate to local charities, he’d do so, but after looking through the house, there didn’t seem to be much to save. It was mostly junk. Smelly, musty junk.
When he renovated houses, he salvaged as much of the materials as he could, from old windows to countertops to cabinets. Resale shops were always looking for stock and there was no sense in getting rid of it if someone else could put it to good use.
Clearing the house was supposed to happen next week when he had a crew to help him. They’d planned on spending the first day getting rid of the odds and ends. But they couldn’t wait that long. They needed to find what someone was looking for before the person destroyed the house or another life. He was limited in what he could do with a broken forearm, but he could tackle the smaller stuff.
After disconnecting the call, he went looking for Hillary, his eyes narrowing when he found her chatting with the handsome detective. He didn’t know why that bothered him, but it did. He liked Polizzi. The cop had been nothing but professional. Hillary, too. But they were both good-looking and single. He padded over to interrupt. “Is it okay to start work in the house once your guys clear out?” he asked Polizzi.
Hillary’s brows raised. “I didn’t think you were starting until next week. I planned on searching today to see if there was something of value that would cause someone to break in repeatedly.”
“I had the same thought,” Reed told her. “I’m having a dumpster delivered in a couple of hours. I thought I’d start clearing out now.”
“But you’re injured.”
He lifted his right arm. “I’ve got one good hand. I can get plenty done.”
“I’ve got two, so we should be able to make a dent.”
“I’ll stop by to help when I get off this afternoon,” Polizzi offered.
Reed wanted to decline. No sense putting the detective and Hillary together more than necessary. But that was petty. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”
Polizzi glanced at the personnel buzzing about. “Why don’t you two head back to the cottage and I’ll give you the all-clear when we’re done.”
“Are you sure you’re up to tackling the mess inside the house?” Hillary asked as they made their way across the small expanse separating the houses. “You were in the hospital a day ago.”
“Quick healer,” he said. And he was. He’d come back from every injury he’d ever sustained faster than the doctors predicted…until the knee.
“Between the two of us, we should be able to make a decent dent.”
He stopped and faced her. “You didn’t sign up for this, Hillary. It’s not part of your job description.” The look she gave him had him lifting his hands in surrender. “Okay, you win. How does an omelet sound?”
“Delicious. You can cook?”
“Of course. I’m a single guy. It was either learn or live on pizza and take-out.”
“How do you know there are ingredients to make an omelet?” She slid the key in the lock and opened the door.
“I looked before I showered.”
“As much as I appreciate the offer, breakfast is on me today,” she insisted. “I signed forms promising that you wouldn’t operate heavy machinery for a few days and I think a gas stove falls under that category.”
He started to argue but it wasn’t every day that a beautiful woman offered to cook for him so he shut his mouth and took a seat at the bar to watch her chop veggies and butter toast. It was hard to make whisking eggs look sexy but Hillary managed to do it, quite well, in fact.
Kota settled in with his doggie chow and was happily crunching away. Reed might be injured, but he wasn’t helpless. He got up to fix bacon. No breakfast was complete without it. He chuckled when he pulled the package from the fridge. Turkey bacon. Totally a chick thing and sacrilege to a corn-fed Midwesterner such as himself. He turned around to tell Hillary so and slammed into her. Two pieces of buttered toast slapped against his chest as she gasped in surprise. He used his good arm to steady her, but he couldn’t take his gaze from her face. Her skin was so smooth and flawless without a stitch of makeup. The cleat chasers who used to hound him relentlessly were always heavily made up with lashes that looked like hairy spiders crawled up on them and died. She was so refreshing. Wholesome. Her mouth was rounded in an adorable O. Her blue eyes blinked slowly and then locked onto his.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He couldn’t stop himself. He had to taste her. Sparks ignited when their lips met. She whimpered and he lost it
, tossing the bacon aside so he could wrap his good arm around her and pull her close, deepening the kiss. She tasted of honey and sunshine and everything good in the world. She came into his arms easily and when their bodies connected, a bolt of pure lust shot through him, hardening him instantly. He wanted to swipe his cast along the counter and remove all the veggies she so painstakingly chopped, lift her onto the surface and feast on her amazing body. He might’ve done just that if the doorbell hadn’t sounded. Kota scrambled to his feet and growled. Perfect timing.
He pulled away reluctantly, running his thumb across her swollen lips. Damn. It’d been a long time since a kiss rocked his world, but he felt off-kilter. Like nothing would ever be the same again. When her little pink tongue darted out, he groaned and attacked her lips again. Her hands sifted through his hair and one leg locked around his hip. The damn buzzer sounded again, earning a bark from Kota. Hillary broke the kiss this time…he didn’t think he had the strength to do it again.
“Do you mind getting that while I finish this?” She wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Her cheeks were an adorable shade of pink. It was all he could do to walk away.
“Reed?”
He turned, hoping she wanted the same thing he did: to say the hell with whoever was at the door and go to his room to finish what they’d started…or her room. He wasn’t picky. Instead she pointed to her shirt and then his. He looked down to see two pieces of bread attached to his tee. He chuckled, reached behind his head with his good arm and pulled it off. He headed to the door before Polizzi could ring the bell again. Kota kept pace at his side, ready to defend him from intruders if necessary. “Good boy,” Reed praised as he scratched the dog’s head. He whipped open the door. “Is the house all clear—” His question died on his lips at the faces staring back at him…faces he’d never seen before.
Tough as Nails (COBRA Securities Book 10) Page 10