Disappointment in her stomach, she watched him walk naked from the room—presumably to the bathroom—and admired his solid backside.
How could she have gone so many years as she had without this? Without sex? She stretched, loving the subtle aches in her body, though they weren’t nearly as prominent as they had been when she’d woken up this morning after making love for the first time the night before.
Made love…
“Hmm.” She pursed her lips and nodded. Maybe it was odd, but it fit.
“Are you tired?”
She glanced up to see Craig re-enter the room.
“A little, we got up kind of early and have been on the go all day.” His question sparked a yawn. “What time is it anyway?”
“Just after seven, it’s still early.” He crawled into bed and touched her cheek. “Want to watch a movie or just sleep?”
“Both.” She turned her head and pressed a kiss into the palm of his hand. “Let’s put a movie on and if I pass out even better.”
“Deal.” He slipped an arm around her, pulling her close, and then reached for the remote.
“I got that info you asked about.”
About to get in his squad car, Craig looked up to see his friend and fellow officer crossing the parking lot.
Craig took the printout Evan handed him and scanned it. His blood rushed through his veins and his thumb pierced through the top of the paper he gripped it so hard.
“Shit.” The word came out on a low growl.
“Yeah, it doesn’t look good, bro. You better tell your girlfriend to watch her back.”
Craig nodded and clenched the paper into his fist, then tossed it into the car.
“Thanks, Evan. I knew it was bad, but not this bad.” He sat down in the squad car and jerked his head at his friend. “And hey, I think I’m going to have to bail on the club this weekend.”
“Yeah?” Even raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Taking the girl—uh—work home with you?”
Craig gave a short laugh, but at this rate it was hard to find anything to be amused about.
“Something like that. Later, man.”
Pulling away from the station, Craig headed straight for the offices of Second Chances and hoped it was a slow morning.
What had started as concern and the mild urge to protect her had just combusted into full-out fear for her life.
It was different when he’d thought Rick Conrad was nothing more than a pathetic loser who liked to beat up defenseless women…but seeing what was on that printout scared the shit out of him.
And all that fear centered on what could happen to Phoebe.
Hell, he shouldn’t have let her go to work today. Should have begged her to stay at his place until they could locate Rick.
With a curse, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed her number. She answered on the second ring.
“Craig? Is everything okay?” Her voice was hesitant. “I thought you were at work?”
“I am,” he said tersely and ran the cruiser through a yellow light. “I’m on my way over to your office.”
“Now? Gabby and I were just going to run to lunch—”
“Don’t go. Stay in the office until I get there. We need to talk. Please, Phoebe. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
There was a short pause, then a wary, “Okay. Okay, I trust you. I’ll stay inside.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“I’m about fifteen minutes away. If you see any sign of Rick, you call 911.”
Another pause. “Craig, you’re kind of scaring me.”
Good. Being scared meant mean she’d be more careful. More alert. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Who was on the phone?”
Phoebe set her cell down on the desk and thrust a hand through her curls.
“Craig. He’s on his way over. He wants me to hold off on lunch. I think something’s up with Rick.” She grimaced and glanced up at her friend with apology. “I’m sorry, Gabby. You can go without me if you want.”
“No way. I’ll just tell Sherice we’ll pass today.”
Gabby lifted the receiver on her desk and punched in a few numbers, then spoke quietly to their coworker on the other end.
Phoebe glanced out the window and tried to push aside the nervous flutters in her belly.
What was going on? Craig hadn’t sounded good at all. He’d sounded grim. Worried. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.
And of course it centered around Rick. The nervous flips in her tummy faded as anger replaced it. He had no right. No right to reenter her life and turn it into a state of panicked chaos. To threaten everything she’d worked so hard for.
“Tell you what. Why don’t I run out and grab us something? Do you want burritos?”
Phoebe bit her lip and gave her friend a narrowed glance. “I don’t know. Maybe we should stick around.”
“Craig asked you to stick around, hon, not me.” Gabby sat up from her desk and walked over to hers. “And I’m hungry.”
“We could have food delivered.”
“The place I’m craving doesn’t deliver.”
“Craving?” Phoebe rolled her eyes and gave a soft laugh, some of the tension easing from her body. “What are you, pregnant?”
“Yeah, I think I am, actually.”
Pregnant? Phoebe’s mouth flapped as she stared at her friend. “Have you taken a test? What did Justin say?”
“I haven’t told him,” Gabby muttered, looking a bit pale now. “And no, I haven’t taken a test. I’m a few weeks late though…and my boobs hurt.”
“They hurt?”
“Well, they’re sore.” Gabby tugged at the end of one reddish braid, biting her lip and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “We forgot to use a condom a while back. I wanted to pick up a test while we’re out. That’s another reason I suggested lunch.”
Head spinning with the knowledge that her friend might be pregnant, and a little excited for her at the same time, Phoebe gave a quick nod and gentle smile.
“Okay. Go grab burritos and a pregnancy test. And when you get back, I’ll hold your hand while we wait for the lines to appear.”
“Ah, now that’s a good friend.” Gabby’s expression shifted into a bit of relief. Her lips curled upward and she nodded, and scooped up her purse. “Be back in like fifteen.”
“Okay. Chicken burrito—no salsa,” she hollered after her friend as she made her way towards the door.
Gabby gave her the thumbs up sign and slipped outside, the door humming with the electronic lock as it clicked shut behind her.
With a sigh, Phoebe glanced back at her desk and began running over the details of the latest woman who’d come into the Second Chances house.
The shrill of her cell phone jerked her from her work a few minutes later, and she picked it up and answered.
“Hey,” she murmured, recognizing Craig’s number.
“Hi. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” The front door buzzed. “Is that you?”
“Is what me?” his voice sharpened. “I’m about five minutes away.”
“Oh, hang on someone’s at the door,” she told him, heading toward the front. “I thought it was you.”
“It’s not. Phoebe, get someone else to answer the door.”
“Easy, Craig, what’s got you on edge?” The door came into focus and she sighed. “It’s just Gabby. Maybe she forgot her key card.”
“Does she normally forget her card?”
“I don’t know. She—”
Her pulse jerked and sweat broke out all over her body. Rick. He stood right behind Gabby with a gun pointed at her back.
“He’s here.”
Chapter Nine
“Fuck. Do not open the door.”
“He’s got Gabby at gunpoint,” she choked, her gaze connected with the wide eyes of her friend.
“I’m calling for backup. Don’t let him in, Phoebe. The man’s dangerous. It’s what I
was coming to tell you. The last woman he dated disappeared without a trace and he’s under investigation for suspected murder. Do not go outside.”
Gabby’s face was void of color, the stark terror blatant in her expression.
Suspected murder. Her head spun with the info. And looking into Rick’s steely gaze, she could very well believe it.
Her focus shifted to Gabby and the obvious terror her friend was trying to keep under control.
“Open the door, Phoebe. I just want talk.” Rick’s voice came clear and chilly through the glass.
Gabby mouthed ‘no’—warning her, like Craig had, not to be so foolish.
“Phoebe, what are you doing?” Craig demanded. “You aren’t opening the door are you?
“Craig, I have to.” She thought of the baby that her friend may or may not be carrying. Thought of the love Gabby and Justin had just found for each other. Her head moved back and forth. “I have to, Craig.”
“No.”
“I can take him.” Anger and resolution had her repeat more confidently, “I can take him,” before closing her phone.
She reached for the handle on the door again and Gabby shook her head fiercely, her eyes widening.
No more. She was not a victim anymore, and like hell would she let him treat her like one. He had no right to come back into her life and threaten her. Threaten the ones she loved. He wanted a fight? He’d get it.
Phoebe clenched her teeth, grabbed the handle, and pushed open the door.
Gabby hurtled through the open doorway after a none-too-gentle push from Rick.
When he attempted to step in through the doorway, Phoebe pressed her hand against his chest and shoved him backward. The sight of a gun pointed at her almost did nothing to her nerves at this point.
“How dare you?” she hissed, eyes narrowed with rage.
He grabbed her wrist and jerked her out of the building, the door locking behind them.
The click of the gun sounded before he said calmly, “We need to—”
“Talk?” she finished and then shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
With a hook kick, she nailed his wrist, knocking the gun from his hand. It skittered across the parking lot.
With a howl of enraged pain, Rick dove for it. She just barely got the chance to kick it again, sending it spinning under a nearby car.
She misjudged him in thinking he’d try for the gun again. Instead, he whirled toward her, fists flying.
All too easily, she blocked the punches.
“Not this time.” Lifting her leg, she delivered a solid sidekick to his ribcage.
Rick fell to the ground with a choked gasp.
“I am not a victim.” Never again.
“You stupid bitch,” he wheezed.
“You want your restraining order?” she asked harshly, pushing back the curls that fell into her eyes. “Here it is.”
He sat up and reached for the gun. She let his fingers almost graze it, before delivering another front kick to his chest.
His face turned a sickly green, before he fell backward onto the concrete parking lot.
“Consider yourself served.”
Police sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second.
She moved carefully past him and retrieved the gun, gripping it fiercely in her hands. Adrenaline still rushed through her blood, but the anger began to slip into shock.
Her pulse skipped and the gun wavered. Staring down at Rick and the fury blazing in his eyes, she knew she had to be a little bit nuts. Or maybe a lot.
The door to the office burst open. Gabby and several other workers rushed out, just as three squad cars squealed into the parking lot.
Gabby rushed to her side. “Are you crazy? Shit, Phoebe, he was going to shoot you.”
“It was either me or you.”
“I wasn’t going to shoot her,” Rick snarled. “This has nothing to do with her. This is between us.”
“Just shut it, fucktard.”
Phoebe tightened her grip on the gun and kept her gaze trained on him, hoping like hell she wouldn’t have to use it—because if it involved anything more than pulling a trigger, she was S.O.L.
Slamming doors sounded and then people came running. She turned her head to look toward Craig and knew immediately it had been the wrong thing to do.
“No.” Craig’s face crumpled in a mix of horror and rage, his hand already reaching for his gun.
The burning pain in her side seemed to come before the gunshot, but she knew that wouldn’t have made sense.
She turned around gingerly, her head spinning, and saw Rick fall lifelessly back onto the concrete, a stain of blood blooming on his shirt.
Her gaze lowered to her abdomen, just as Craig came behind her and put an arm around her.
“Call a goddamn ambulance.” he screamed hoarsely.
The knife sticking out of her side didn’t seem real. It almost seemed like a prop in a play. And when she touched her side, her hand came away sticky and warm.
She looked at her hand, saw the blood, but it just seemed fake. The burning and tingling had begun to fade. In fact…everything was kind of fading.
Her legs wobbled and she staggered against Craig. He slid another arm around her and the blue sky swung into her line of vision as he lowered her to the ground.
Craig’s dark eyes watched her with intensity and alarm, barely anchoring her from getting sucked under.
“Stay with me, Phoebe.”
“Not going…anywhere. Too tired to walk,” she muttered and then closed her eyes.
Craig pushed a hand over his short hair and glanced down the white corridor of the hospital.
The churning in his stomach and the heavy knot that lay thick in his throat had yet to subside, even though an hour had passed since a nurse had come out to assure him and Gabby that Phoebe was in stable condition.
He’d almost been sick to his stomach, watching them rush her into the hospital, unconscious and pale.
“I know how you feel,” Gabby said quietly from behind him.
Tension raced through his body and he straightened to his full height before turning to look at her.
“What made her do it?” he asked, his voice unsteady. “Run out there and confront him like that?”
Gabby wrapped her arms around her middle, guilt flashing across her face.
“Me. She was trying to protect me.”
“I know. She’s a regular hero, isn’t she?” he muttered.
“She’s impulsive. I tried to tell her not to open the door to him. Yes—I was scared out of my mind, but I really don’t think he would’ve hurt me. Whereas her…I think he would have shot her point blank without blinking.”
“Excuse me.”
They both looked up as a nurse appeared in the waiting room again. She turned to Craig.
“She’s awake, pretty lucid now, and asking for you.”
He sucked in a breath and took a step forward, then glanced back at Gabby. She was Phoebe’s close friend. Maybe she should have first rights…
“Go on.” She gave an understanding nod and waved him away. “I’ll see her when you’re done. Besides, there’s a reason she asked for you. I should call Delanie and give her an update anyway. I had to convince her not to fly down so close to her wedding.”
“Thank you.” He held her gaze and gave a soft nod, then turned again and followed the nurse back to Phoebe’s room.
He entered the room, his gaze immediately seeking her out. She was semi-reclined in the bed, wearing a hospital gown and a sheet pulled up over her legs.
The minute she spotted him, her expression, initially stoic and hesitant, brightened.
“Craig,” she whispered, his name a sigh on her lips.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” He pulled up a chair next to her bed and gave a slight smile.
It wasn’t easy. Seeing her like this—so damn pale and weak—made him wish Rick wasn’t dead so he could shoot the bastard again.
&nbs
p; “I’m feeling pretty good.” She touched her side and frowned. “A little tender, but they’ve got me on some stellar pain killers, so I’m not feeling much. They want to keep me overnight for observation.”
“Good idea.” He caught her hand in his, stroking the inside of her palm.
“And the doctor said I should be fine to drive up to Delanie’s wedding next week.” Her gaze searched his. “The invitation is still open if you want to come with…”
Craig gave a silent grunt. The invitation had slipped his mind with all the drama of the day.
The idea held more and more appeal, but he needed to make sure he could commit for sure before getting her hopes up. “We’ll see.”
She nodded, but disappointment flickered in her gaze.
“How are you really doing, Phoebe?” he asked softly. “Besides the physical pain.”
“Okay…a little shaken up of course. I heard…” Her gaze sought his and she swallowed hard. “Rick didn’t survive getting shot?”
“No. He didn’t.” His jaw flexed.
One less abusive asshole running around the planet. Unfortunately that meant he’d never be prosecuted for the disappearance and probable murder of his last girlfriend.
He debated telling Phoebe what the police had found in Rick’s apartment when they’d searched it this afternoon. Countless pictures of Phoebe, most taken years ago, but some looked to have been taken in the last few months.
Looking at the vulnerability in her expression now made him think that the conversation was best held at a later date.
Irritation flared deep inside him. That she’d been so foolish to even put herself in that situation.
“You shouldn’t have gone outside,” he muttered aloud, before he could stop himself.
Her gaze hardened. “I had no choice.”
“The hell you didn’t. I was five minute away. Tops.”
She snorted. “Come on, Craig. We both know I’d never let my crazy ex hold Gabby at gunpoint for five minutes.”
“Phoebe—”
“I had the skills to defend myself. I knew I would be okay.”
“You got a knife buried in your side. Tell me, Phoebe, how is that okay?”
Her chin lifted. “I’m not the one who ended up dead.”
Protecting Phoebe: A Chances Are story Page 8