Stolen in Love

by G. G. Andrew

  He shouldn’t have found out what he’d been missing.

  She was the first to break the kiss, confirming his suspicions that she was stronger and also that she wasn’t as overcome. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered against his mouth, but he could tell she was smiling.

  He remembered what he’d meant to say before. “I’ll watch you leave,” he said, out of breath and with a telltale tightening in his pants. “I’ll keep an eye on you until I know you’re back at your parents’ with the door locked behind you.”

  She stepped away, and the temperature dropped as she removed her heat.

  “You’re a good guy,” she said softly. “You deserve a good woman.” She opened the door and left out into the night.

  His hands shaking, he pushed the door open wider and watched her go, his eyes scanning both of their yards. His cop instincts hadn’t yet left him. Good. Even if he’d just been about to ask Kim Xavier to stay the night, at least he had a brain cell or two jingling around in there.

  She walked across the street and over the dark expanse of her parents’ lawn and entered a side door, turning to give a little wave before she disappeared into the house. He raised a hand in farewell, but waited an extra beat to make sure that, true to his word, the door was safely locked behind her.

  Then he shut his own door and leaned his back against it, exhaling.

  Damn it. He didn’t want a responsible, suitable woman without a criminal record. He didn’t want someone who’d make a stable girlfriend, someone he could invite to neighborhood potlucks or to come around the station and meet the guys.

  He only wanted Kim Xavier.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kim

  Kim was still dreaming about that kiss when she woke up the next morning.

  She had the early shift at Hot Haven, which meant she should’ve sprung out of her childhood bed to quickly dress and get there for the seven o’clock opening. But for a moment she snuggled deep into the covers, stretching out her legs and arching her neck as she thought of how it’d felt to have Scott Culpepper’s mouth on hers.

  She’d kissed a lot of frogs in her life. And more than a few snakes. Shit, probably an entire reptile house. Kissing Scott was something else. She’d felt so strong and safe, protected, in his arms, and yet the heat behind the embrace surprised her. In her fantasies, kissing Scott was never going to suck; he was painfully easy on the eyes, and making out with a police officer promised a shot of adrenaline at the very least. But her response to the kiss caught her off-guard: a sweetness that heated into boiling before she’d even realized it. It’d made her weak in the knees when her brain caught up to what her body knew, that this was something she’d never experienced.

  She reluctantly slid out of bed, biting back a smile as she pulled on a pair of work pants and her black shirt.

  God, what would he be like in bed?

  Her thoughts were rising with the springtime temperature outside when she grabbed a banana off her parents’ counter and quietly unlocked the front door to slip out. The day was breaking bluish white and peaceful, a few birds chattering in the trees. No one was awake in the neighborhood, and as she crossed the street to her parked car, her eyes searched the Culpepper house for signs of life.

  No lights were on, and she knew he was probably asleep. Was he dreaming about her? Was he shirtless, twisted in the sheets, a gleam of sweat on his skin? A bloom of pleasure tingled all over her body, and she had the dirty thought that she wished she could be there when he woke, curled next to him, sliding her hand down his bare chest and underneath the covers, discovering if her suspicions of how hot they could be together were true.

  Her mind was so fogged by lust that when she turned back to her car, she didn’t realize what she was seeing at first. Again, her body was quicker. Her stomach flinched and a bolt of ice shot through her veins, driving out all thoughts of Scott. She stopped in her tracks.

  There was a knife on the hood of her car.

  Her heart hammered in her ears.

  Someone had been here.

  She jerked her head side-to-side, but the street was deserted.

  What was going on?

  She scanned the neighborhood for cars she didn’t recognize, and it was then she remembered the car driving slowly past late last night.

  Scott said he’d only driven by once. In their exhaustion, neither had clued into the discrepancy.

  She drew a shaky breath, her heart still beating like a fist against her chest cavity. Whoever he was, he knew where her parents lived, where she was staying.

  She forced her feet to move again, because somehow she knew there’d be more. She walked around her car to the driver’s side, the side facing a thick row of boxwoods across the street. Someone standing here would be hidden enough to do something quickly, something they didn’t want anyone else to see.

  Sure enough. All along her driver’s side, a thin line had been scratched in the paint at waist-height, like someone had run the tip of a knife blade along it as he walked.

  Kim squeezed her eyes shut a moment, while her breath grew erratic against the soft morning sounds of birds chirping. When she finally opened her eyes, the scratch and knife were still there.

  The initial shock wearing off, she moved quickly, if not rationally. She took off the black sweater she’d donned against the morning chill and grabbed the knife with it, wrapping it up until it was invisible. Unlocking her car, she put it on the floor in the back, pushed underneath the passenger seat. She didn’t know what else to do, but she didn’t want to see that violent reminder any more. She just wanted to get the hell out of there.

  After another quick glance around the neighborhood, she jumped into the driver’s seat and started the car. Her body on autopilot as she drove to work, she was halfway there before she realized her face was wet with tears.

  What had she taken that he wanted so badly? What had she done? Because it was she who had done this, had taken something that wasn’t hers, and now she was paying for it. Worse, she’d brought the trouble to her parents’ doorsteps. To within shouting distance of where Scott and little Lily slept.

  She roughly wiped tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand. She had to think. She had to figure out who was doing this, and what they wanted.

  A Yalie, Hutch had said, and she grew angry, her fingers gripping the steering wheel as she wondered if she was being terrorized by some nineteen-year-old asshole with a trust fund and daddy issues.

  Hutch had invited her to that Yale underground party that night, and though she’d recognized it for the terrible idea it was when he’d asked, it no longer seemed quite as terrible.

  This had to stop.

  She drove up to the coffee shop and parked, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself. Call Scott, a voice in her head said, but she quickly dislodged the idea with a firm head shake. He was still sleeping. Plus, what would he think once he realized she’d brought the very worst of her past to the neighborhood where his daughter played and slept?

  She walked into work, her eyes still peeled for any Ivy League assholes watching her. Though it made cosmic sense that she, an untrustworthy person, should eventually find herself not trusting anyone around her, she still felt a shiver of fear as she walked in.

  Viktor was alone at the coffee counter, regarding her with blue-gray eyes as opaque as a fish’s.

  “Morning,” he said in his heavy accent.

  “Where’s Boyd?” she asked, striving for casual and falling about two miles short.

  “Back,” Viktor said. “Unloading a shipment.” He said shipment in two sharp syllables, each syllable like a slash in the empty interior, and jerked his head to get his dirty blond hair out of his eyes.

  She nodded and walked to the back to put away her bag.

  “Get it together,” she whispered to herself. “Just work now, and figure it out later.”

  The squeak of a van door opening out back and Boyd’s voice mingled with another man’s reached
her ears. She couldn’t hear the words, but she heard Boyd’s laugh and knew he was bullshitting with the supplier, like he did to keep up good relations.

  She stowed her bag on the counter. There was a new shipment of fancy designer teas there, the kind her mom and sister drank. They were probably for the front of Hot Haven, where they sold gift items like mugs, bags of coffee, and chocolate bars.

  She peeked in an open box. Small round black tins with gold lettering sat in the box in neat rows. She picked one up, feeling the smooth, cool metal against her palm.

  A tickle of excitement snuck into her veins. The tins were pretty, and so very small, and already she felt calmer touching something that wasn’t hers. Something she could slip in her bag, right now, because Boyd was out back and she could hear Viktor helping a customer in the front.

  She drew a shaky breath, rubbing her thumb on the top of tin, across the little gold letters. Probably no one would miss it. If he counted, Boyd would think the supplier had miscounted the shipment.

  It only held tea leaves but already the container felt like a balm, like something she could take to get through the day, the thrill of the secret smoothing over her jangled nerves from the sight of that knife.

  A rushing filled her ears, her heart thumped, and she knew she’d already made the decision. She clasped the tea tin in her palm, and, with her free hand, opened her purse to slip it in.

  “What are you doing?”

  Kim gasped and jerked around to discover Boyd three feet away staring at her. He’d come inside and she hadn’t even noticed.

  His eyes were hard.

  “Sorry, Boyd, I just—”

  “Were you”—Boyd had a hard time getting the word out—“stealing that?”

  She swallowed and forced herself to set the tin down on the counter. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. Then, she found her voice, the words tripping over themselves to get out. “I had the break-in, and I’ve been under a lot of stress, and when I get under stress, I just—it’s hard to—I do this.” She gulped and pointed a shaky finger at the tea. “It’s not right. I know. I freaked out today and did something stupid. I’ve never done this before. Here.” She tried to catch Boyd’s eye, but he was staring hard at the small tin, still as a statue. “Boyd, I’m sorry. Please. Believe me.”

  Boyd shook to life and rubbed his face with his hands. He walked a few steps towards her and sighed. “Kim, you know how hard I’ve worked—how hard I continue to work—to make this place run?”

  “Yes.”

  “I just—I know about your problem, but I can’t have it here. Okay?”

  “Okay. I get it.”

  He sighed again and met her eyes. “Look, I’m sorry you had someone break into your place. How about…how about you take a few days off, try to get everything sorted?”

  Her stomach dropped, but she nodded. “Okay, that sounds reasonable.”

  Boyd rubbed his hands together. “Okay. Viktor and I can cover the morning shift here. Why don’t you go try to take a nap or phone a friend or something?”

  His tone was polite, friendly even, but Kim had known Boyd long enough to realize what he was doing. He wasn’t harsh enough to fire her outright, but he didn’t want a thief working among his staff. It wasn’t that he wanted to give her a few days off as much as he wanted to let her go gently.

  She nodded her agreement, grabbed her bag, and exited the coffee shop as the morning rush began. She didn’t stop to see if Viktor was watching. As she walked to her car, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the strands hard enough the pain brought tears to her eyes.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she be so stupid?

  She was going to lose her job. Just like she’d lost her job at the preschool, and as the office manager, and at the furniture store. Her addiction had cost her so much, and here was one thing more.

  She got in her car, slammed the door, and bit back a sob.

  She had to find a way to move on, figure out what she’d stolen and give it back to the asshole who’d broken into her apartment. She was sick of living in fear, letting it creep into her life and costing her. She hated laying down with wolves, but she knew how they operated.

  And she knew exactly where she’d find a lot of them that night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Scott

  As Scott sat down to paperwork at the beginning of his shift, Carter came to him.

  “I talked to her,” she said.

  “The woman from last fall?”

  “Yeah.” Carter sat on the edge of his desk. “She’s still not sure who was leaving her those notes, but she has three possible leads for us.”

  Scott smiled. “It’s us now, is it?”

  Carter raised her forefinger at him and drawled, “Now, don’t get cocky.”

  “Never.” He turned his chair towards her and gestured to her to keep talking. He needed to focus. All he’d been able to think about the past eighteen hours was that kiss with Kim—a little why he shouldn’t have done it, some imagining what she thought, and a lot of wondering when it could happen again.

  “There was a man she dated a few times, but then she ended it. She says it was mutual, but also that he was a quiet guy. Then there was a student she gave a failing grade to, said he was pretty pissed at the time. We checked him out last fall, but maybe he’s worth a second look.” She dropped a notebook page on his desk and lowered her voice as several uniforms walked by. “You recognize the names?”

  He didn’t, but he was certainly going to acquaint himself with the men. “Has she had anything happen since the fall?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay. Who’s the third?”

  “A longer shot, but she said she had to take her laptop to the computer lab at the university a few times, and there was a guy there that always stared at her. Kind of creeped her out is how she put it.”

  “Did he ever approach her?”

  “No.” Carter tugged her suit jacket tighter around her. “I called over there, but they’re moving locations and said to come back early next week when the manager’s free. They get a lot of international students, so they couldn’t tell me who this might be. The victim didn’t know his name, just that he had a Russian accent and sort of long hair.”

  “Okay, good.” He picked up the paper with the names the victim had mentioned. Carter went to work on another case, and before he started on paperwork again, he shot Kim a quick text with the two men’s names they did have.

  Recognize either of these?

  No, she wrote back ten minutes later. That and that only.

  When he was trying to figure out what to text back, he got called to respond to an accident, and the night got away from him. He put in a quick call home once, around eight, to check in with Bette and say goodnight to Lily. Bette had been making her physical therapy appointments, but more and more he noticed her walking was strained. He’d insisted she stay the night, so he could drive her back home in the morning.

  As his shift ended and he headed home, he drove from the station through downtown. It’d been a slow night, and his thoughts distracted him. Would Kim be up at this hour? Would she be in bed? Should he text her again? He thought of her sleep-mussed hair from last night, her full drowsy lips. What he wouldn’t give to kiss her again.

  He should call her. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d call her. Ask her to babysit again. Maybe he could ask her on a date. Did she do dates?

  Then, as if he’d materialized her with his thoughts, he passed by a taxi and saw a young woman step out. She wore a pair of tight dark jeans that clung to her curves, a silvery top, and—he realized as he braked the car—had crimped brown hair.

  He stared through his rear view mirror at the woman. She leaned over to pay the driver and one side of her top slipped down further from where it hung off her shoulder, exposing her creamy skin under the glare of streetlights. Then she straightened and began walking in the opposite direction he was driving.

  It was Kim alright. It wasn’t o
nly the way she looked, but how she moved. What was she doing in downtown New Haven, this late on a Wednesday? He watched her walk purposefully away from the taxi she’d exited, her hips swinging. As she turned a corner, he swore and parallel-parked in the next free spot he saw.

  Exiting the car, he moved quickly to follow her. She strode down three blocks, then made a sharp left down a less-populated, darker street. He kept his distance, because his antenna was up. He knew she was keeping something from him, and maybe this late-night errand had something to do with it.

  She glanced around from side to side every so often, and, once, she looked over her bare shoulder behind her. He inhaled and pressed his body against the nearest building, hoping his dark uniform would disappear in the shadows.

  She didn’t seem to see him, and he let out the breath he was holding.

  Then he whispered, “Shit.” Because that shouldn’t be a relief. Someone wanted something from her, and that person could be following her, too—if not now, then later. If she hadn’t noticed him, she might not see anyone else coming either.

  He was beginning to feel a little creepy himself, but curiosity overtook him, especially when she approached a brick building and climbed down a flight of steps. She disappeared from view, but Scott pressed his back against a building to watch if she entered. A minute later, light crawled up the steps as a door opened.

  Scott knew the address. The police had found drugs at a party here once, though nobody ended up getting prosecuted. They were all rich kids, those who could afford to pay their way out of trouble.

  What was Kim Xavier up to?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kim

  The party was in the basement of an old house just off campus, an attractive, deep red brick building that looked like it might hold an historic home or attorney offices. Maybe it did. But, late at night, dash down a short flight of steps to the thick wooden door that led into the basement, and it became something else.