by Terri Reed
“Is silence a tactic you use to break your suspects?” she asked, her gaze meeting his.
“Who would want to steal the Golden Arrow?”
She blinked. “Plenty of people. The artifact is not only valuable, but a piece of history.”
As if that would be enough reason for the theft. Her passion for her career was evident. And in different circumstances admirable.
His phone trilled from his breast pocket. Captain McCord calling. “Ace, watch her.”
Adam stepped into the hall. He quickly filled his captain in. “She claims she’s innocent of theft and doesn’t know anything about the money. She thinks she’s being set up.”
“Hmm. What does your gut tell you?”
Adam stared at the wall, turning the question over in his head. He was loath to conjecture. He preferred to have all the answers laid out in a tidy row. Most of the time the cases he worked were resolved with Ace at the forefront.
Tracking a suspect down, like in the drug case they’d just closed. That had been all Ace. Adam had just been along for the backup. Adam relied on Ace’s gut more than his own these days. McCord knew that. McCord knew what haunted Adam and looked for opportunities to force him to rely on his own judgment.
Was that why his captain had sent him to the museum rather than one of the other team members? To force Adam into a situation where he would have to call on his FBI investigative training?
Adam sent up a silent plea for clarity. He searched his heart and found only peace.
“I don’t think she had anything to do with the theft,” Adam finally admitted. “But something is definitely up with her. She’s cagey about her sister. That puts up a red flag for me, but she appears sincerely upset about the missing arrow.”
“Do you think she could still be in danger?”
“Hard to say, sir. This situation is strange, to say the least.”
“I want you to stick close to her.”
The air left his lungs in a swoosh. “Sir?”
“She’s a tenuous link between her sister’s death and the Jeffries murder. The attack on Miss Gomez seems too calculated to be coincidence. If the two fatalities aren’t related to the attack on Miss Gomez, then no harm done. But if she’s the key to solving the mystery surrounding her sister’s fall, Michael’s murder and finding Erin Eagleton then we’d be remiss in not keeping Miss Gomez under close watch. I’ve got Senator Eagleton breathing down my neck to find his daughter.”
Adam’s pulse tripped over itself. “I understand, sir. Are we talking 24/7?”
“Yes. You can enlist the DC police for help as needed. Keep me updated.”
“You can count on me, sir.” He would be dogging Lana’s every step for the foreseeable future. Spending time with her. Observing each and every move. 24/7.
He recalled the way he’d reacted to her licking her lips, and a flare of heat flushed through him, followed quickly by sharp-edged concern.
No question. Watching the lovely Miss Gomez while keeping his interest at bay would be a lot harder than it sounded.
FOUR
“Excuse me?” Lana couldn’t have heard Adam correctly. The wall of her office closed in on her as her breathing stalled, trapped in her lungs, making her chest ache. “Did you say you were driving me home?”
“I am.” He stood in the doorway of her office, looking a bit bemused, which was strange since a few minutes ago he’d been in her face accusing her of orchestrating the theft of the arrow. The change in his demeanor was both fascinating and frightening.
“Not to jail?” Her heart thumped against her ribs. The thought of prison lodged a fist of fear in her chest. What would happen to Juan if she went to jail?
She hated the idea of her sister’s little boy growing up in foster care. He would believe himself unloved and abandoned. He was too young now to understand why his mommy went away but one day he would ask.
And he would want to know about his aunt Lana and why she never came for him.
Adam breathed in and then exhaled. “No.”
Relief made her knees wobble. He wasn’t carting her away like a criminal to do hard time. Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but still…no arrest. No jail.
Thank You, Lord.
She waited a heartbeat for him to expand on his answer but he didn’t. That was it. Just a “no”? What changed? What was the phone call about? “Did they find the arrow? The real thief?”
He shook his head. Disappointment speared her. The arrow might never be found. The possibility sat like a stone in her gut.
“Are you ready to leave?” The impatience in his voice echoed through her small office.
Squelching her curiosity about his adjustment in attitude and deciding not to question the gift of freedom because she didn’t want to give him the chance to change his mind, she grabbed her purse from the cabinet behind her desk and slipped into her coat. “Yes, thank you.”
Sweeping his hand in a gesture for her to precede him out the door, he followed her out of her office and headed toward the front entrance.
“Miss Gomez.” Detective Delvecchio blocked her path. “Please don’t leave town.”
She barely refrained from snorting. Like she had anywhere to go.
“I’m escorting Miss Gomez home,” Adam stated.
The detective nodded and stepped aside.
Adam’s hand skimmed the curve of her lower back. Prickles of awareness shimmied up her spine, prompting her to hurry toward the exit.
Once she was settled in the passenger seat of his vehicle, she tried to relax, but every nerve was attuned to the man sliding behind the steering wheel.
“I appreciate your offer to drive me home, Officer Donovan,” she said, hoping to ease the tension filling the vehicle. He pulled into the afternoon traffic and headed toward her neighborhood. “It’s very kind of you.”
“I’m doing my job,” he stated, his voice terse, his eyes straight head.
“I didn’t realize chauffer was in your job description.” Stung by his matter-of-fact statement, she couldn’t help the little bit of sarcasm infusing her voice. “I could have easily taken a taxi.”
He slanted her a glance. “I do what’s necessary. Protecting you is the priority.”
She drew back as his words sank in. “So you finally believe I’m being set up?”
“I believe that something is going on and you’re in the middle of it.”
“O-kay.” His vague answer didn’t reassure her at all. Clearly he had his doubts about her innocence. Fine. Let him think what he wanted. His opinion didn’t matter to her. She knew the truth. She had nothing to do with the theft.
When they parked in the lot adjacent to her apartment building, she hopped out without waiting for him to open her door. She just wanted to go upstairs and lock herself inside her apartment and block out all that had happened.
Adam rounded the front end of the vehicle and snagged her elbow, forcing her to a stop. “Hold up.”
Reining in her impatience, she waited as he freed Ace. The dog trotted to her side and nudged her hand before moving off to lead them toward the building. Just shy of the sliding glass doors, Ace halted and growled, his focus on the bushes at the side of the structure.
“What is it, boy?” Adam asked, letting out the lead. The dog’s nose sank to the ground and followed a path around the building.
Lana’s breath caught. Was there someone skulking in the shadows? She squinted and scanned the thick leafy branches of one of the Inkberry holly bushes and the blooming Japanese yellow yews bordering the apartment complex.
“What’s he doing?” Lana asked, stepping closer to Adam, taking comfort in his presence.
“He’s caught a scent of something.”
Moving in tandem with Adam, Lana peered over his shoulder to where the dog had stopped at the base of a flowering shrub. Adam squatted to inspect the ground beside Ace. “Footprints.”
Feeling exposed, Lana rubbed her arms. The chilly afternoon air seeped through
her coat and blouse. “It could be the gardener’s or one of the other tenants’.”
He tilted his head to gaze up at her. “Or they could be from the same man who broke into the museum. Ace doesn’t alert without cause.”
A shiver of apprehension made her quake in her pumps.
The dog’s nose lifted as if he caught a whiff of something, then he took off with a bark, racing toward a maintenance shed at the back of the building.
Adam jumped to his feet and hurried after his partner. Lana ran to keep up. The dog skidded to a halt in front of the shed, his body stretched as if pointing to the door. His low, guttural growls raised the hair on Lana’s nape.
Adam put out a hand. “Stand back.”
Swallowing the fear rising up to choke her, she moved a few paces away. Her heart beat in her ears. She tensed.
Adam reached for the door of the shed with one hand, his other hand on his holstered weapon.
The door of the shed burst open, and a man wearing jeans and a hoodie covering his head and obscuring his face barreled into Adam, knocking him aside before taking off at a fast run through the parking lot for the busy street beyond.
Adam and Ace chased after the assailant. Ace leaped in the air and grabbed the sleeve of the man’s jacket. For a second the assailant slowed, then jerked his arm, the soft material of the jacket ripping off. The man sped away. Ace chased after with a mouthful of his jacket.
Lana held her breath as the guy darted into traffic, dodging cars like a football player avoiding a tackle.
With horror, Lana saw a bus roaring down the lane. Terrified that Ace would be hit, she screamed, “Ace, no!”
Adam came to an abrupt halt at the curb and brought Ace to heel, in the nick of time as the bus roared past them with a blaring horn.
The assailant disappeared down the street.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Lana met Adam and Ace halfway across the parking lot. She couldn’t stop shaking.
“Did you see his face?” Adam asked. He had the torn piece of material in an evidence bag.
“No, you?”
He shook his head.
“Do you think he could have been the same man that assaulted me at the museum?” She hated how vulnerable she felt as they made their way back to her apartment building.
“Don’t know,” Adam said. “Not sure what he was doing in the maintenance shed.”
She bit the inside of her lip, then admitted, “My ex-husband, Mark, once discovered a way inside the building posing as a maintenance guy. I found him waiting outside my door one night when I’d returned from work. The police had to forcibly remove him.” A very embarrassing situation because her reputation, her dignity, had been tarnished in the eyes of the other tenants.
Adam held the door open for her. “Could that have been Mark?”
“No. Mark has a slighter frame.” After having lived with the man for most of her adult life, she would have recognized him, wouldn’t she?
Maurice, the senior doorman, waved as they approached the reception desk.
“Have you seen anyone suspicious, someone who doesn’t belong in the building, lurking about?” Adam asked Maurice.
“No, sir.” Maurice scratched his head and glanced at Lana. “Is there a problem?”
“You monitor everyone who comes and goes?” Adam asked, ignoring the doorman’s question.
“That I do.”
“Good.” Adam nudged Lana toward the bank of elevators.
Stepping into the elevator, she couldn’t help but notice how wide Adam’s shoulders were—he took up more than his fair share of the space and his musky aftershave swirled around her, teasing her senses to high alert.
Surreptitiously, she studied his face in the reflection of the silver metal door. She liked the angles and planes, the strong jawline that folded into a dimpled chin. Full lips, straight nose and intense eyes that stared back at her with an equal amount of interest. A flush of embarrassment crept up her neck.
Quickly she dropped her gaze to Ace. He sat perfectly still, like a statue next to his handler. The pair made an intimidating picture.
When the doors opened on her floor, she rushed out and down the hall to her apartment door, needing the distance from Adam. He was too big, too handsome and too perceptive. Her nerves were raw, her emotions close to the surface and his presence compounded her need to escape.
She longed for her comfy sweats and a cup of Earl Grey to calm her frayed senses.
The canned laughter of a television show drifted from Mr. Witcowski’s apartment across the hall. The smell of garlic seeping from the Tuccis’ apartment two doors down made her mouth water.
Adam easily closed the distance and cupped her hand as she slid the key in the lock. Warmth spread up her arm and settled in her cheeks. Why was he touching her? And why did his touch soothe and not scare her? She gave him a questioning look.
“Let us clear the apartment first,” he said in a low voice that sent a shiver tickling the back of her neck.
The implied danger clawed through her. Outside, Ace had alerted them to a scent he recognized. Could the thief be inside her apartment?
A knot of tension tightened in her stomach. She released her hold on the key and stepped back to let Adam and Ace do their thing. She sent up a quick prayer there was nothing to fear as Adam opened the door. Ace charged forward, Adam followed, disappearing inside.
She waited in silence seemingly forever before both dog and man returned with an “all clear” and motioned her inside.
A rush of relief made her knees wobble as she entered her apartment, careful to avoid standing too close to Adam where she could take a breath without inhaling his spicy and masculine scent. As much as she appreciated his efforts, she reminded herself his concern was not personal. And she didn’t want it to be. He and Ace were doing their job. Protecting her.
Gazing around the living room, she saw nothing looked disturbed since she’d left. No bogeyman skulked in a corner. Everything was in its place. She appreciated a clean living space and strove to keep the clutter to a minimum. Now that she was safe inside, she wanted to be alone to decompress and process through the ordeal she’d endured.
Pausing in the middle of her living room, she met Adam’s gaze. “I’m home safe now.” Her tone implied that she was ready for him to leave.
“Nice place.”
Was he really that obtuse or was he deliberately ignoring her cue for him to say his goodbye? “Thank you.”
“Do you have a friend you could call to come stay with you?”
“I do, but I won’t. I really just want to be alone. I’m tired and cranky. As you can imagine, the past twenty-four hours have been brutal.”
He nodded but acted loath to leave. Why? Did he fear she’d skip town or something? Her jaw locked tight. She hated having her reputation, her integrity, questioned.
His gaze roamed over her bookshelf, her furniture and to his left, the kitchen area. She crossed her arms. Her stomach growled, reminding her she needed sustenance.
His gaze shot back to her and his eyebrows rose. “When was the last time you ate?”
The concern lacing his voice sounded sincere. But she wouldn’t allow his protection to extend to feeding her. “Yesterday. I’ll fix something after I clean up.”
He remained standing there, his gaze touching the bandage at her temple, making her aware of the throbbing in her head.
At the end of her patience, she crossed to the door to the hallway and opened it. “Thank you again, Officer Donovan. I’ll be fine now.”
He scrubbed a hand over his shadowed jaw. “I can take a hint. Make sure your windows are secure and lock this door behind me.”
“I will. I’m five floors up,” she reminded him. “And Maurice and the other doorman have been instructed not to let anyone into the building without proper identification. Not even a handyman.”
“Good. I’ll stop by the front desk and reiterate the importance of security.”
“Ple
ase don’t scare anyone. The last thing I need is for my neighbors to complain. I can’t afford any more incidents that might jeopardize my chances of gaining custody of my nephew.” She knew the courts would send someone to her apartment to assess her living conditions and would talk to her neighbors.
Hearing about the incident with her ex-husband would be bad enough. She didn’t need to add more fodder to the list of reasons she’d be a bad choice as a parent. The presence of the police wouldn’t bode well regardless of the circumstances.
“I can’t guarantee that,” he shot back. “Ace tends to intimidate people without meaning to.”
She smiled down at the dog. In the afternoon light streaming through the open living room curtains, his sleek coat gleamed. His ears perked up, his dark gaze intense. If she didn’t already know how loving the dog could be, she’d have been intimidated, too. She held out her hand. Ace stepped forward to sniff her fingers before giving her a lick. Delighted, she laughed. “He’s a gentle dog.”
Adam scoffed. “Until he isn’t.” He handed her a business card. “Here’s my number. If you need anything. Call.” He saluted. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Grateful to finally have him going, she smiled and nodded, then stilled. “Wait. What? In the morning?”
“I assume you plan to return to work?”
Wariness filled her chest. “Yes.”
“I’ll be back to escort you around seven.”
“You’re going to escort me? To work. Why?”
“As I stated earlier, Lana, my job is to protect you. I’ll be doing that until we find the culprit who tried to frame you.” With that he led Ace out of the apartment and disappeared from view down the hall.
By the time his words registered and she rushed out of her apartment to tell him she didn’t want or need him to protect her, the elevator doors slid shut and the hall was empty. She was alone. She hustled to her apartment, shut the door, turned the lock into place and sank back against the cool wood.
Though she hated to admit it, she wished Officer Donovan hadn’t left, which didn’t make sense. One second she wanted him gone, the next she wanted him back. Her brain must have been scrambled when the burglar hit her with the arrow.