Rhys cleared his voice and the rasp eased. “Did you call 9-1-1?”
“Not yet.” Her words were clearer. Finally she could talk and breathe at the same time again. “I don’t want anyone to know where I am. Can you call it in and come get me?”
“On my way.” There was no hesitation in his voice. “What’s the address?”
“It’s 1017 Richmond Way.” Which was the address of the condo. “But I’m not there. I don’t know where I am.” She looked to her right and left. She was in some kind of field. “Call when you get to the house. I can find my way back. I’ll meet you there.”
She hung up on his agreement and tried not to think about who she might run into on her way back to the condo and what they might do to her.
Chapter Twelve
By the time Rhys reached the address Ariel had given him, his heart rate had returned to normal and his hands had stopped shaking. He’d called the 10-23—break-in in progress—in. And requested a 10-39—indicating all responding units should use flashers and sirens.
He hated like hell—hated—letting the bastard who’d attacked Ariel get away. The flashers and sirens arriving en masse were bound to drive him out of the crime scene. But that was the whole point of the 10-39. Drive him off… drive him away from Ariel. Her safety was more important than apprehending the bastard.
If they were lucky, the intruder had left evidence behind, something they could nail him with.
If they weren’t lucky, if the bastard slipped away from them, then Ariel would find herself saddled with a protection detail, whether she wanted one or not.
There was no question about it now: someone had drawn her to town for the sole purpose of grabbing her.
Why their perp had gone to so much trouble to bring her to town, rather than grabbing her in Denver, was something he’d been thinking about a lot. It would be the first question out of his mouth when he got the bastard behind the interrogation table.
Police flashers lit up the neighborhood with circular rainbows as he closed on the address he’d been given. He slowed his vehicle to a crawl and redialed her cell number. She answered immediately, as though she’d been waiting for his call.
She probably had been.
“Rhys?” Her voice sounded stronger. Less breathless. Less terrified.
Some of the tightness eased from his chest. “That would be me. Your knight in shining armor.”
“Don’t you mean khakis?” Humor laced the question.
His chest loosened even further.
She didn’t give him a chance to respond. “I’m on my way over. I’ll come out between two of the houses on the left, maybe ten houses or so from the condo.”
“I’ll be waiting,” he assured her and listened to the line go dead.
A quick count of houses indicated he was close to where she’d said she’d emerge. He stopped the Explorer, set the brake, and exited the SUV to wait for her.
A few minutes later, a stumbling shadow limped out of the darkness between two houses and headed for his Explorer.
He straightened against his vehicle like he’d been stabbed with a hot poker.
Son of a bitch!
She was hurt.
Pushing off his car, he hustled down the sidewalk to meet her. She was wearing a thin tank top and flimsy shorts. Her shoes were untied and made a sucking sound with each step.
And then he noticed the gun.
Ah hell…
His paperwork had just exploded.
She was carrying the weapon down, pointed at the ground. Fingers around the handle, not the trigger. But it was still a damn gun.
“You use that thing tonight?” he asked.
If she had, if she’d killed the guy—which he doubted, otherwise she would have mentioned that salient point earlier—things would get complicated. Not that he gave a shit about a dead killer, but she’d get hung up in red tape for God knew how long.
“Of course I used it.” She sounded irritated, as though he’d challenged her intelligence or capabilities. “I don’t think I hit him though. He ducked to the side, behind the door, and I bailed out the window.”
He stepped forward, gingerly reaching for the weapon. “How about you let me have that?”
She shrugged, letting the gun go and stared down the street toward the rotating red and blue lights. “Was he still there?”
“No,” Rhys said. “He was gone by the time the first responder arrived on the scene.”
She nodded, her expression unsurprised. Apparently she’d been expecting that news. So had he. The flashers and sirens had done their job.
“Your officers should have gone in silent, tried to catch him on-site.”
Rhys shrugged. He had no regrets over the decision. Her life had been at stake. Although the captain might have something to say about it, along with the rest of the guys in Major Crimes. So—yeah, he’d probably catch some flak for a day or two.
But under duplicate circumstances, he’d make the same decision again.
In a heartbeat.
“You’re limping.” The observation sounded more like an accusation, as he walked her around the backend of his Explorer to the passenger door. But then he hadn’t expected injuries. She’d told him she was uninjured on the phone.
“I grabbed my shoes before going out the window, but I didn’t know if he’d followed me out, so I didn’t want to stop to put them on.” She waited for him to open the passenger door, before giving him an exhausted smile. “FYI, asphalt is not kind to bare feet.”
He winced and made a mental note to call for an ambulance. The paramedics could treat her feet. He glanced at her bare legs and arms; even in the dim light between streetlamps, he could see the angry red scratches.
When she remained standing there, staring at him, without making any effort to climb into his vehicle, he searched her eyes.
They were huge and shaken. Silently he opened his arms. With something between a sigh and a groan, she cuddled up to him, her arms creeping around his waist. As she tucked her face into the hollow of his throat, he dragged her closer, cradling her against his chest.
She felt so good against him. Warm and firm and damn-near perfect. Like a missing puzzle piece he’d finally found and locked into place. Like she belonged right here, next to his heart, forever.
“Why do you think he wants me?”
The question was mumbled against his chest, almost undecipherable, but it brought all the questions back.
He sighed, eased her back, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He meant the gesture to be soothing, comforting, and it would have been if she hadn’t tipped back her head and seized his mouth with her lips before he had a chance to pull away.
Ariel had never been shy about her sexuality. Never been afraid to express her need. That fierce sensuality was insanely attractive. Sexy as hell.
Never more so than now.
Her lips were soft, urgent, full of energy and fire. They tempted, they teased, they made him want… and hunger… and flush with desire. The pressure built—in his blood, in his arms, in his heart. He pulled her closer, wanting to merge her body with his.
Ah fuck… He’d never wanted anyone, even her, this badly before.
He might have forgotten everything—the break-in, the intruder, the four units with their crimson and blue flashers waiting down the street—if a blue Explorer hadn’t cruised past them and honked its horn.
Hell.
He jerked back from her, caught between hunger and duty.
The SUV was already ten feet down the street, so he couldn’t see who was behind the wheel. But it was blue, an Explorer and unmarked, which indicated it was a detective’s unit. Likely one of his Major Crimes buddies.
Just fucking perfect…
“Just tell them I kissed you. That I caught you by surprise.” Her voice was smoky and thick. She cleared her throat and batted her eyelashes at him. “It’s even true. So you wouldn’t be lying.”
She tried for a smirk, but there wa
s too much vulnerability on her face to pull it off.
“I didn’t complain, did I? Hell, I was as enthusiastic as you.” He grinned reassuringly and pulled her in for a quick, hard hug. Before the embrace had a chance to turn carnal, he pushed her back, turned her around, and tucked her into the passenger seat.
It took seconds to reach the condo. He parked behind the blue SUV that had honked at them, a wave of relief hitting when he recognized Sevier’s muscled form sliding out of the driver’s seat and stepping onto the pavement.
Sevier was a good guy. Closed mouthed. He might raze Rhys about what he’d seen, but he’d do it privately, away from interested ears.
“Wait here,” he told Ariel quietly as Sevier approached them.
Rhys joined the other detective in front of his vehicle and waited for the opening salvo.
“Might as well bring her in,” Sevier said, coming to a stop directly in front of Rhys. “She’ll need to do a walk-through. See if anything’s missing.”
That wasn’t why his buddy had come over. Rhys waited for the rest of it.
“Yeah.” Sevier scrubbed a hand over his hair and then down his face, where he stifled a yawn. “Look, what you do on your own time, that’s your own business. But man, you’re walking the line with her. She’s a case.” When Rhys opened his mouth to protest, the other detective waved his hand in the air as though he were batting the objection away. “Even if she’s not a case, specifically, she’s attached to a case. Fuck—to two cases. If word gets back to the cap that you two are involved—”
“We’re not.”
When Sevier’s eyebrows shot up, Rhys elaborated. “We’re not involved. She was upset. Scared. Hurt. I was comforting her.”
Even to his own ears the explanation sounded like a load of bullshit.
“Riiiiight. You were comforting her… with your mouth…”
The disbelief in Sevier’s voice was so strong it hung in the air and sneered.
Rhys grimaced and backtracked. “Look—it’s complicated. There’s history between us. Things got a little out of hand. It won’t happen again.”
Assuming he could keep his fucking hands to himself.
After a long, hard look at Rhys’s face, followed by a small frown, Sevier rolled his shoulder and stepped back. “Maybe we’ll luck out and the perp left some prints.”
Cue discussion over.
Rhys relaxed. “Kinda doubt it. He didn’t leave any at the hotels.”
Sevier scowled, looking disappointed. “It almost has to be the same asshole.”
No shit. The odds of two separate people being after her were astronomical, particularly when you added in her midnight caller of five nights ago.
He stood there, watching Sevier walk away, halfway expecting him to swing around and light into him for another round of scolding. But the other detective’s stride never faltered. Turning, Rhys headed around the hood of the Explorer.
By the time he reached the passenger door, Ariel had climbed out and was waiting for him. “Is everything okay.”
“Sure.” He locked his expression down tight. No way did he want her regretting that kiss. It might be the last one they’d get to share.
The patrol officer on guard duty nodded politely at him and stepped aside to let them pass through the door. The dark door. He peered through it into the shadowy interior of the house. Flashlight beams periodically swept into and out of view.
“The electricity was cut?”
“Yes, sir. Looks that way,” the officer said, his round, soft face all sorts of studious.
Well that explained why the motion-detector lights had come on at every house on the block… except for this one.
Rhys glanced at Ariel and lifted an eyebrow. “Do you have any idea when he cut the wires.”
“No.” She stepped closer to his side, a shiver shaking her athletic frame. “The bedside clock was already dark by the time I heard the alarm sound.”
He frowned thoughtfully. “The alarm went off?”
If the alarm had sounded, the electricity must not have been cut after all. So why was her clock dead?”
“Not the condo’s alarm. That never went off. I meant the alarm I rigged up before I went to bed.” She shivered again, more violently this time, and looked up at him. “Can we go in? It’s freezing out here, and I’m not dressed for subzero temperatures.”
Of course she wasn’t. She was still in her sleep shorts and tank top. He scowled, catching the appreciative glance the young officer slid her way. Her skimpy attire left far too much skin on display. Not that the officer at the door was complaining.
Rhys stepped between the two, effectively blocking the blue-suited Lothario’s view and ushered Ariel into the darkness with a possessive hand at the small of her back. When it occurred to him that he’d effectively claimed her and silently, but graphically, told his competition to back off, he dropped his hand so fast one would think he’d fingered a nest of hornets.
Dammit. Where the hell was his common sense?
Missing, that’s where.
“Where’s your flashlight?” Mason asked him, joining them in the condo’s foyer.
Very good question. The answer was back in his truck. Which was another glaring indication that mentally he wasn’t firing on all cylinders. It was dark out—ergo the first thing he should have grabbed from his truck was a flashlight.
It was common fucking sense. It was muscle memory.
Or it should have been if Ariel or thoughts of Ariel or the taste of Ariel hadn’t shredded his concentration.
Luckily, Mason didn’t wait to hear the answer to his question. “Our perp cut the electrical cable at the outside box and picked the lock on the kitchen door.” He paused to grin at Ariel. “That was a nice trick in front of the doors.” Respect laced the comment. “You must have heard him the instant he pushed the patio door open.”
Ariel tried to look modest, but the way she preened beneath the compliment stole some of the humility away.
“Thank you.” She beamed at Mason, her smile so bright it competed with the flashlight for the most luminous thing in the darkness. “You would not believe how much noise those things make.”
“The responding officers believe it.” Mason laughed. “The racket when they forced the front door open about gave them a heart attack.”
Rhys looked back and forth between them.
Without saying a word, Mason aimed the flashlight behind them, toward the front door. Rhys turned around. The flashlight beam wasn’t illuminating the entrance to the condo; it was centered on the wall to the right of the door and the objects cluttered along it. He squinted and stepped closer for a better look.
Cans… there were at least a dozen coffee and pop cans strewn along the wall.
“They’re full of something—” Mason offered.
“Pennies,” Ariel finished for him, sounding far too pleased with herself.
“There’s an identical setup at the kitchen entrance,” Mason continued. “Which is what our guy triggered when he pushed open the door.”
“Your alarm system?” Rhys asked dryly.
“It’s incredibly effective.” Her expression was so self-congratulatory he suspected she would have patted herself on the back if she been able to reach that far.
He would have patted her himself—hell, her alarm system was pretty ingenious—except she was already too full of herself.
“Let’s check the house. See if anything is missing.” Rhys waited for Mason to lead the way.
Ariel followed the shimmying beam of light from the flashlight with her eyes, as Mason swept the living room, only to shake her head. “Nothing of mine was in here. Has anyone called the owner?”
Mason nodded and turned around, heading for a hall to the left of the foyer. “He’s on his way.” The flashlight beam bounced off a framed picture of a winter wonderland, complete with barn and old-fashioned log home, before exposing the short hallway. “You were sleeping when he knocked the cans over?”
<
br /> “I was in bed,” Ariel admitted in a deadpan voice.
Rhys glanced over; the lack of inflection in her voice was a dead giveaway that she was holding something back. He played her words back over in his mind.
I was in bed.
She hadn’t mentioned sleeping. Had she been awake when their perp broke in? Was that why she’d responded so quickly?
“You weren’t sleeping?” he asked her point-blank.
“No,” she admitted without looking at him. “I often have insomnia.”
The way she was studiously avoiding his gaze told him her insomnia had been caused by the same thing his lack of sleep had been caused by.
Hormones. Hunger. General horniness.
He pulled back from that line of questioning lickety-split.
“There’s a bullet in the bedroom doorjamb, and—”
“That was me,” Ariel told Mason. “He didn’t have a gun. Or at least he never fired one.” She must have seen the narrowing of Mason’s eyes, because she gave him a sharp, toothy smile. “And yes, I have a permit, and yes, the gun’s registered to me.”
Mason’s gaze shifted to Rhys.
Who offered a casual, “It’s locked in the glove box of my Explorer.”
“We’ll need to run ballistics on it,” Mason said, his attention back on Ariel.
“Fine. I have nothing to hide.”
Apparently satisfied with that, Mason continued down the hall to the bedroom.
The flashlight beam skimmed the bed with its thrown-back covers, before landing on the open window. An image leaped into Rhys’s mind—a picture of Ariel bolting out of bed and diving through that window, the intruder hot on her heels—thick, thuggish hands stretched out to grab her. He stiffened, his heart suddenly slamming against his chest, his muscles tightening, his protective urges roaring up out of nowhere.
Fuck. I’ll kill the bastard when I find him. I’ll fucking break him in half.
Whoa…
He dialed the blast of rage back. Damn, he needed to get ahold of himself. There was no need to go all caveman. At least not yet.
Dark Legacy: (Dark Falls, CO Romantic Thriller Book 3) Page 11