by London Casey
She dreamed of her men. In one of them, she, Thad, and Pete were standing on top of a ridge overlooking a rugged mountain range, much like the vista at Pete’s father’s ranch, except the colors were all wrong. A yellow mountain stood at the end of a pink range. Then what sounded like an F-15 fighter jet came out of nowhere and buzzed close to the ground. The female figure in her dream squatted, covered her ears, and visibly shook. When her dream person opened her eyes, the men were gone.
That had been so scary, Zoey forced herself awake, expecting to be in her nice quiet bedroom—only she wasn’t. She might be in her bed, but the noise was still there. A moment later she realized what it was. Holy fuck. Her house alarm was going off. Someone must have broken in. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Her heart dropped to her stomach then crawled up her throat. Move! She ripped off the covers and turned on the bedside lamp, despite the glowing computer screen illuminating the far half of the room.
Even though the alarm company would sent someone, she didn’t dare leave the confines of her bedroom before they got here. She locked the bedroom door and searched for anything she could use as a weapon. A letter opener sat on top of her desk. As she stepped across the room to get it, a sharp pain stabbed her foot. “What the hell?”
Zoey lifted her leg to check out the source of the strong ache. Blood pooled out of a cut, and her stomach clenched. Cold air poured in from the window and the source finally registered. Someone had smashed her window. “Damn it.”
Adrenaline helped blunt the pain in her foot, but the blood continued to drip. She hopped the two feet to her desk chair, sat down, and pulled out the glass shard. She then pressed a hand over the wound to help stop the bleeding, but that only worked for a few seconds. From her desk drawer, she extracted a couple of tissues from a travel-sized packet and pressed them to her wound.
When the tissue filled with blood, Zoey had to do something else. On tiptoe, she crossed to the bathroom. After a quick bandage job, she located a pair of socks from her dresser. It was then that she spotted her phone. Relief poured through her. She needed to call Thad.
Her breathing slowed as she punched in his number. It was in the middle of the night, but cops were used to receiving calls at all hours. While she waited for him to answer, Zoey kept her gaze on the broken window, not sure if the person was still outside or was hidden in her house. Given the window was locked, the odds were the person had run off after the alarm sounded. Christ, but the wailing was loud.
“Zoey?” The moment Thad answered, her blood pressure lowered, but her steely resolve to remain calm broke.
A sob escaped. “Someone…someone tried to break into my house.”
“What? Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Kind of.
“What is that sound?”
“The alarm,” she shouted. “Hold on.” Now that he was on the phone she dared to go into the living room. “I need to turn it off.”
Moving as fast as the pain allowed, she hobbled down the hallway, keeping an eye out for the intruder just in case he’d been able to get inside. She punched in the code, and the ear-splitting sound stopped. Thank God. She had no idea how long it had been going off, but it must have been a while. Her ears still rang.
“Zoey. Tell me what happened.” What sounded like an engine starting filtered into her brain.
She flicked off the lights and peered out the window. Red taillights exited her street. Shit. Was that the intruder running away?
“I don’t know.” She told him about how the alarm had woken her up, that the window had been smashed, and then how she’d cut her foot.
“Where are you now?”
“In the living room.” Flashing lights filled the room, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Now that the danger was gone, she made her way to the sofa and collapsed. “The cops are here. The security company must have alerted them.”
“Pete and I should arrive in a few minutes. Hang in there.”
Inconveniencing them sucked, but she wanted the comfort only they could bring. “Hurry.”
A knock sounded on her door. With caution, she eased it open. When the cold air blasted her, Zoey realized she had on a thin nightgown and crossed her arms.
“Are you all right, ma’am?”
The cut foot she could handle. “I think so.” She motioned them to come inside and explained about the window.
“Can you show us?” the beefier of the two asked.
Walking on the side of her injured foot, she brought the men into her bedroom and pointed to the window. “I didn’t touch anything. Be careful. There’s glass everywhere.” While the men studied the scene, she drew on a warmer robe.
The thinner one faced her. “I’d advise you against staying here until the window is fixed. Do you have some place you can go?”
“Yes.” Her men would probably insist she stay with them until this was resolved.
One of the cops called in the break-in, but if they planned to fingerprint the area, she bet it would take an hour or more before they finished processing the scene.
“I’m going to wait in the living room. Thad Dalton is on his way here.” The beefy man’s brow rose. “He’s my boyfriend.”
“That’s fine, ma’am.” He nodded to his partner. “Joe will keep you company.”
She didn’t need him to, but between her headache and the spiking pain from her foot, she wasn’t in the mood to argue. Taking her time, Zoey limped back to the front of the house. Standing on one foot, she watched for Thad and Pete from the window. In no time, another set of headlights pulled into her drive. The pounding at her temples subsided and the knot between her shoulder blades loosened.
Thad and Pete raced up her walkway, and she yanked open the door. They ran in and both hugged her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Pete smoothed the hair from her face.
“I cut my foot.” She hadn’t wanted to worry them, but Pete’s concerned look made her relent.
In a flash, she was in his arms and tears of joy balanced on her lashes. Gently, he placed her on the sofa then knelt in front of her.
“Hey, Joe,” Thad said. “Pete, I’m going to check in the bedroom.” He then headed down the hallway.
Pete lifted a hand, indicating he’d heard. “Which foot?”
She had socks on both. “Right.”
He carefully peeled it off, the bottom of which was spotted with blood. “Jesus, Zoey. We need to take you to the emergency room to get stitches.”
“No, please. If it doesn’t look better by tomorrow, I’ll go.”
“Where are your first aid supplies?” Pete’s firmed lips told her he wasn’t going to let her rest until he took care of her.
“In the bathroom cabinet next to the sink. Second drawer.”
When Thad came back, Pete stood. “I’ll get the supplies.”
Thad sat next to her and picked up her hand. “Looks like the intruder broke the window with the intent of undoing the latch, but I’m betting the alarm scared him off.”
“I thought that’s what happened. What’s confusing is why come in the bedroom? Wouldn’t that alert me?”
“Thieves target the back of the house so as not to be seen. I remember how your computer screen lit up part of the room. The person could have believed it was your office.”
That made sense. “Then my intruder has never been in my house.”
“Probably not.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t help much. Most people haven’t been inside.”
“You never bring patients here?”
“No.” Pete returned with an absurd amount of first aid supplies, which brought a small smile to her lips. “I wasn’t shot.”
He shrugged. “I don’t want you to bleed all over my truck when we take you out of here.” Heaven forbid if a drop of blood mixed with the paint, wallboard mud or other construction material. “Tomorrow, I’ll see that the window gets fixed. Don’t worry.”
“Thank you.” Everything was bombarding her at once. Had the person wante
d to rob her or harm her?
Thad picked up her hand again. “We want you to come back to the house with us.”
If he expected resistance, he wouldn’t get it. “I appreciate that. Not that I expect a repeat, but do you think someone on duty could drive by the house?”
“I’ll make that request.”
Gertrude, the old lady across the street, was probably sitting by her window right now and would keep an eye out for her, too. Her neighbor probably hadn’t had this much excitement in years.
Pete redid the bandage with such care that she barely realized he’d finished until he stood. “How about I carry you into the bedroom so you can pack?”
“I can walk.”
Pete pulled her to a stand then picked her up anyway. “Your determination is admirable, but there’s no need to reopen the wound.” He kissed her forehead. “If anything happened to you…” He shook his head as if he couldn’t finish the thought.
Hope rushed through her veins. He cared. Really cared. As they entered the room, both cops were still taking measurements and shooting photos.
Thad looked up then turned to the other officers. “Can you give us a minute, guys? Zoey needs to change and pack.”
“Sure.”
Pete set her down and she hopped to the dresser. “My suitcase is in the closet.” Pete was right. The pressure from walking might reopen the wound.
Packing took less than ten minutes. After directing Pete where to find her clothes, she dressed while Thad stood guard at the door to make sure the cops didn’t inadvertently return. She put on her most comfortable boots to give her injured foot room, and Pete carried her back to the living room.
Thad nodded to the men, indicating they were free to go return to the scene. Thad faced Pete. “How about you take Zoey’s car home, and I’ll drive the truck back?”
“You’re staying?” Zoey wanted to be surrounded by both men.
“Someone needs to make sure the place is secure.”
He was a cop through and through. She ran a hand down his arm. “I don’t deserve either of you.” She nodded to the alarm. “Do you need my code to arm the system when you leave?”
“That would be great.” Thad pulled out his phone, and Zoey dictated the sequence of numbers to him. “Now go. I’ll be home when I can.”
As if Pete couldn’t wait to get her away from here, Pete lifted her up and traipsed down the stairs. He set her down by the passenger side. “Need the keys.”
With her foot injured, pressing on the pedal would be hard, so she relinquished them. Before running around to the driver’s side, Pete made sure she was in the seat with her seatbelt securely fastened.
He started the engine and backed out. “You have any ideas who might have done this?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Zoey leaned back against the truck seat. “I wish I had a clue who broke into my house. Thad would have a better idea if robbery were the motive. If the goal was to harm me, I might be able to come up with a few names.” No suspect jumped out at her, though.
Pete glanced at her. “Name one.”
“You playing cop tonight?”
He glanced over at her, but it was too dark to see his expression. “I know your mind must be going a million miles an hour. I’m hoping to quell some of your anxiety by asking questions. If you can bounce ideas off me, it might help.”
Zoey reached out and squeezed his thigh. “Thank you. You’re right. Talking always helps.” If she didn’t believe that, she wouldn’t be a therapist. “At the funeral, Dr. Avery Carson was rather upset at me for mentioning his indiscretion to the police, but do I think he’d break into my house? No. He’s a professional. I don’t even see him hiring someone to scare me. There’d be no point without a warning.” Carson had been too distraught over losing that little boy to do something like this.
“If you think this is related to Mrs. Sanchez’s murder, how about her husband?”
“Why would Dr. Sanchez harm me? If he knows I saw Carson with his wife and blabbed to the police already, he’d be happy I turned in the cheater.”
“Your actions might put the hospital in a bad light. Could he fear you’ll go public?”
Zoey tried to don her therapist mindset instead of that of a victim. “Why not ask me to keep it hushed up?”
Pete turned left onto Amber Way. “Embarrassed perhaps? If not him, what about one of your clients?”
She looked over at him, but his gaze was focused on the road. “It’s always possible, but without proof, it would be against the rules to even give you a name.”
Pete nodded. “We need to hope the burglar left a piece of physical evidence that will lead to his identity.”
“That would be nice.”
Before she knew it, they were back at Thad and Pete’s house. He edged into the garage and closed the door. She couldn’t wait to get inside and into bed. Pete helped her out.
“I can walk.”
“You sure? I can carry you.”
While it would be nice to be in his arms, she wanted to test her pain level. “I’ll go slow.” The bottom of her foot throbbed, but she managed.
With an arm around her waist, he escorted her into the kitchen and then flicked on the overhead bank of lights. “Make yourself at home. I’ll get your bags.”
The house was quiet—almost too quiet. She hadn’t realized how the small amount of street noise at her place helped calm her. Within seconds, Pete returned with the purse she’d inadvertently left on the floor, along with her two suitcases.
“You want a cup of coffee or something?” he asked.
“Thanks, but if I have any caffeine, I won’t sleep.”
“I have decaf.”
She gave that some thought. “I’m good. I’d probably fall asleep before it’s finished brewing.”
He nodded. “Where do you want to stay? Guest room? My room? Thad’s room?”
That was a tough call. Being with her men would be fantastic, but the inevitable touching would occur, followed by glorious sex. Rest was what she needed. “How about the guest room for tonight?”
“That’s probably smart, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to hold you until you fall asleep. Then I’ll sneak out. How does that sound?”
Pete must have read her mind. “You are the best.”
Because she had to navigate the stairs, Pete insisted on carrying her again. Tomorrow, she hoped her cut would have healed enough that walking wouldn’t be a big deal.
Pete set her down in the guest room then drew back the spread. “Take off your clothes, sugar, and I’ll bring up your things so you can change.”
Even though Zoey was tired, her body remained wired. Before she’d even taken off her one boot, Pete had returned. He placed the case on the bed and opened it for her.
“Need help undressing?” he asked, with a suggestive shine in his eye.
Pete was a fun man. “You know that wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“Suit yourself, but think about what you’re missing.”
She chuckled. With his arms crossed, he watched her strip. His smile warmed her heart. Once she drew on warm pajamas, she crawled under the blankets and waited for Pete to get ready. When he tucked her in and placed a light kiss on her forehead, disappointment bubbled inside her. “You said you’d hold me.”
He laughed. “I was wondering when my platonic actions would get to you.”
“You did that on purpose, you sly dog. Now strip.”
Her command brought another smile. Pete kicked off his boots, stepped out of his pants, and yanked off his sweater. Without socks or briefs, it hadn’t take him long to get naked. She scooted over. As promised, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her. Boy, what a kiss that was.
“We can’t start,” she said, her body coming alive to his touch.
“I know. I won’t take advantage of you, but I wanted you to know how much I need to feel you underneath me, to know you’re alive.”
She stroked his cheek. “
Trust me, I’m very much alive, but I won’t be of use to anyone unless I sleep.”
Pete winked. “Have it your way.”
He rolled her over so that her back was pressed against his rock hard chest. His presence soothed her until his thick shaft poked her back, reminding of the ecstasy she could have for the asking. She waffled between keeping her hands to herself and touching him, but before she could decide, she fell asleep.
When Zoey opened her eyes, light was streaming in the window, and the bed around her was cold. Damn. She’d lost the opportunity to enjoy Pete. It was Saturday, but she wasn’t sure if he had to go in to work or not. Thad’s schedule was equally a mystery.
A bit blurry eyed, Zoey sat, stretched, and then eased out of bed. Get coffee or change clothes? Hmm. Coffee won. After testing her foot to make sure she could walk, she limped across the hall and slowly went down the stairs, careful not to put too much weight on the injury. Halfway there, the aroma of strong coffee and eggs met her, and her stomach grumbled. She found Pete at the stove.
“Good morning,” she said as she slipped onto the stool at the kitchen’s center island. Thad must be either asleep or at work.
Pete looked over his shoulder. “Morning. Coffee’s just finished brewing. Help yourself.”
She pushed back her chair. While she prepared her cup, the garage door opened and she stilled.
“It’s just Thad,” Pete said. “He texted that he’d been called in right as he was leaving your house.”
An ache raced up her spine. “Oh, my God. The poor man.”
She poured her coffee then made another one for Thad and one for Pete. No sooner had she set all three cups on the counter than Thad dragged in, his eyes bloodshot, looking in need of a shave. She hobbled over to him and gave him a hug. “How are you?” Concern rushed through her.
“Tired.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let me take off my jacket, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Everything? She stepped back. “Coffee’s on the counter.”