by Lily Black
And for that, she needed the right clothes and makeup so she could feel truly like herself before she faced him again. None of this snuggling in pajamas in Drew’s bed! She’d taken care of herself for a very long time without any help from a man. She would simply go back to that independence—no matter what her bonks and bruises said, and no matter that it was sometime after three o’clock in the morning.
Making a careful evaluation of the clothes that had thankfully never been removed from the guest bedroom closet, Alexa chose a pair of charcoal slacks and a pale-blue turtleneck. From the sounds of the storm outside, it was going to be a weary and wet night, followed by a morning of the same. She draped the clothes over her arm then headed into the bathroom. She was grateful for the sturdy lock on the bathroom door and felt a flicker of satisfaction as she slid it home. Being a guest in Drew’s home definitely complicated her ability to take a firm stance. It would be good to get back in her own home and her own space. She wasn’t normally the kind of girl who would throw herself at a guy. She turned the faucet to a comfortable heat and got undressed, using a washcloth to give herself a careful sponge bath.
She still could not believe Drew had pulled the plug on things like that. What was wrong with him? Maybe he was acting out some Special Forces honor code—no sex with the subject while he was protecting her. The trouble with that was, he’d been ready enough to tumble around on the dojo floor the other day and kiss her the night before that.
Alexa shook her head and would have screamed if she were sure the bathroom door would cover the sound. It just wasn’t fair. How was she ever going to know if she could trust him? She could happily strangle him right now if only she dared put her hands on him.
But she didn’t have to touch him, didn’t have to deal with this. In a few hours, all of this nonsense with Stuart would be cleared up, and she could go home and forget Drew Cosimo even existed if she chose. Her one hope was that he was as ready to back off as she was.
As she gently combed out her hair, she tried to picture herself at home in her cozy little house, surrounded by her cats and her peaceful life. She wasn’t able to feel the quickening joy she usually felt at that mental image. Instead, she felt her eyes fill with hot tears, but she blinked them away and told herself it was nothing but the pain of her head injury and all the strain she’d been under, plus the car accident. Was it any wonder she felt weepy, even at the thought of going home?
When she felt clean and tidy, Alexa swept her hair up into a soft bun, with feathery strands falling from the top of the bun to soften the back. It was one of her most professional looks, the one she reserved for meetings with the city when the library needed funding for a special project. Now she would use it to help her feel calm and cool around Drew.
Getting the turtleneck on was a trick, but it had a loose neck, and she managed it. With the slacks, she paired a conservative pair of camelbacks then started on her makeup. This was the most critical part. She wanted to hide her bruises—and her vulnerability—without looking done up. She definitely didn’t want to look as though she were trying to catch Drew’s eye.
When she finished, she stepped back and took a look at herself. The edges of the mirror were still fogged over, so the effect was a little more ethereal than she was going for, but she looked good—smart, sophisticated, and nobody’s fool.
Now she just had to live up to the look. She opened the bathroom door and turned resolutely toward the main rooms of the house. As tempting as it was to hide in her room, she wanted to make perfectly clear to Drew that she wasn’t emotionally dependent on him and wouldn’t be swayed by him. She didn’t have long until Stuart would be in custody, and she wanted to make the most of it by showing Drew the kind of relationship he could expect to have with her once she left—a friendship that was pleasantly professional.
Chapter Eighteen
As she stepped into the kitchen, Alexa realized two things. The first was that she was starving. The smell of toasted cheese and something tantalizing that she couldn’t quite name assaulted her senses. Her appetite pounced on the scent and deducted that something so delicious could only mean one thing—Drew was cooking. Her traitorous stomach was quick to remind Alexa that she’d only had soup for dinner last night and had pretty much skipped yesterday’s lunch. It also reminded her that she never had food this good when she cooked for herself.
She realized that her pose as a frost maiden had just sustained its first serious assault. The doors to the library stood half open, welcoming her into the realm of books and cozy nooks. The heavenly smell came from in there, as did the flicker of reflected firelight.
Alexa followed the wonderful aroma, walking as if her feet were possessed of their own mind. She pushed open the door and paused just inside.
Drew had lit a fire and placed candles along the table running along the back of the couch. He’d centered a small round table and two chairs in front of the fire. On the table, a fancy wine bottle kept company with a tall flickering candle. Two places were set, and on each plate was Alexa’s all-time favorite breakfast food—eggs benedict.
Alexa had to swallow around a suddenly tight throat. She drifted toward the table and looked down. It was her favorite dish. But his making it felt all wrong.
Drew stepped out of the shadows, a look of glimmering hope on his face. He was dressed in a nice pair of slacks and a deep-blue shirt that shimmered in the light. He looked positively scrumptious.
“What made you decide to fix this?” Alexa asked.
Drew’s smile grew stronger. “You once said it was the way to your heart. I figured, given the circumstances, it was the least I could do.”
Alexa couldn’t breathe around the emotions rising inside her. She was trapped by the look in his eyes and by her own wash of emotion. One tear escaped her, and she swiped at it with a trembling hand. How had he backed her into a corner so quickly? And how did he know to make eggs benedict… wait. Dimly, the memory came back.
Years ago, she and Drew had been at a party when the subject of romantic dinners had come up, and how a guy should propose. The girls and guys had gotten into a kind of competition as to who could come up with the most extravagant or unusual setting. When Drew had asked Alexa for her input, she’d said that so long as there were candles burning, a fire lit, and eggs benedict for breakfast, the guy couldn’t go wrong. At the time, Drew had teased her, then he’d forgotten about it—or so she’d thought.
“Alexa?” Drew reached a hand toward her, love evident on his face and in his eyes as they met hers.
The rest of her control dissolved. A torrent of tears stormed inside. She turned and ran—away from Drew and his preposterous, even traitorous, proposal, away from her pain, and away from her own feelings for him. Unfortunately, she was in his house, so running just highlighted how trapped she was.
She dodged the kitchen table and just missed slamming into the counter. As she rounded the corner and started down the hall to the guest bedroom, she made a sharp turn and headed toward the garage instead. She’d come back too quickly. Clearly aiming for friendly professionalism was a fool’s hope—and everything in her revolted at being made the fool again.
The garage was shadowy and cold, even with the light on, and the heavy pounding of rain was louder out here. For just a second, she paused on the steps. Was this wise? No. But she was more afraid of what was behind her than anything in front of her.
She hurried down the steps and rushed to the truck. It wasn’t until she was inside with the door slammed shut and fishing for keys that she realized her mistake. There were no keys, because this was Drew’s truck. Her own little car was smashed up somewhere in a junkyard, a casualty to her deranged stalker.
She laid her head down on the steering wheel and cried.
How long she cried, she wasn’t sure. Long enough to let her grief over her car—silly as that seemed—and her general frustrations out. Long enough to not e
ven know what she was crying for anymore.
A gentle tapping on the truck’s window brought her back to herself. She sniffed and applied another napkin to her nose, because apparently a Ranger’s truck didn’t come equipped with tissues. She didn’t exactly look at Drew, who was waiting on the other side of the glass, but she turned her head enough to let him know she was listening.
He said something, but what it was didn’t translate through the window. He waited, held up a set of keys, then raised his eyebrows as if to ask if she would like them.
Alexa hesitated then flipped the lock so he could open the door, and held out her hand.
Slowly, Drew opened the door, as if afraid she might jump out and run off. He rested the keys in her palm. He had to speak over the sound of the rain pelting the garage roof, and his voice was thickened by emotion. “I’m giving these to you, so you can leave if you want to. But I’m asking you to hear me out first.”
Alexa swallowed and isolated one word in her swimming thoughts. “Okay.”
Drew let go of the keys and took his hand back. Alexa shut the door, locked it, then put the keys in the ignition and rolled the window down. However, she left the engine off. Her urge to run was strong, but her desire to stay was stronger.
Drew took a deep breath and spoke clearly but gently. “I didn’t mean to upset you in there. I wasn’t thinking of how it would look. I’d forgotten the rest of the conversation at that party when you said you liked eggs benedict. I just remembered that it was a food you really liked, so I made it this morning as a comfort food for you.”
Alexa’s insides went still, almost as if all of her had become her ears and she was listening with even the pores of her skin.
Drew scrubbed a hand across his face. “I wasn’t trying to propose. I wouldn’t do that to you—not now and not so quickly. That would be a really jerkish thing to do, given what else is going on in your life right now. I’m sorry I upset you.”
Alexa nodded. “That’s okay.” She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry I fell apart.”
Drew waved a hand. “Don’t be. You had every reason to fall apart, and you’ve actually held up amazingly.” He grinned. “Worthy of a Ranger.”
Alexa smiled back at him, albeit a bit wobbly. She looked down at the steering wheel and around the cab of the truck. It was tidy without being fussy and had a distinctive “Drew” scent that she found comforting, even now.
Something shifted inside, and without thinking that shift through, she looked back at Drew. “You said that you wouldn’t do that—wouldn’t propose—right now. Would you… do you think you will someday?”
Hope bloomed in Drew’s eyes, and she had her answer right there. However, there was something else in his expression—caution.
Her question and the moment hung between them.
Drew’s phone rang, and a look of relief washed over him. He signaled that he needed to get this and turned away to answer it.
Alexa rested her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes for a second. It had been crazy for her to ask him that. Her thoughts were total nonsense. She was so tired—physically and emotionally. Her head throbbed where she’d been knocked out, and the rest of the aches and pains she’d acquired in the accident clamored loudly. She needed another painkiller. But what about her heart? It wasn’t hurting. It didn’t ache the way it had all morning. It wasn’t throbbing like it had when Drew rebuffed her upstairs. She wasn’t sure just what to make of all this, but her heart had quite suddenly decided it was just fine.
Something in Drew’s tone changed as he talked on the phone. Alexa sat up and looked at him. He’d turned back toward her and the truck, and his eyes met hers. She read something in them that almost looked like—fear? He spoke into the phone, loud enough for Alexa to hear. “Got it. I’ll get things squared away. Here’s Alexa.”
He held the phone out to Alexa, offering it through the truck window. “It’s Detective Rawlings. She has something she wants to tell you directly.”
Alexa nodded and took the phone gingerly. “Hello?”
“I’m glad you’re up,” Detective Rawlings said. Alexa could hear the sound of a siren in the background. “We’ve had a development.”
“What’s going on?” Alexa tried to speak calmly, as if she hadn’t been a quivering emotional wreck five minutes ago. She was grateful that the truck’s interior made it easy to hear the detective, despite the growing storm.
“The good news is we found evidence linking Stuart to the crimes—an online receipt where he purchased the eavesdropping device. And one of our guys lifted a print from the driver’s side seat adjustment on the van he stole.”
“Okay, that’s good. Right?” Alexa braced herself mentally and emotionally, because there seemed to be a big unspoken “but” coming on the heels of Detective Rawlings’s words. She used her free hand to turn the key in the ignition and rolled the window up. Then she cut the power, got out of the truck, and handed the keys back to Drew. Whatever it was she sensed was coming, she knew in her gut she wouldn’t survive it without Drew at her back. She pressed the phone tight to her ear.
Detective Rawlings’s voice was grim. “Yes, but unfortunately, we were unable to pick him up at his house. It looks like he hasn’t been living there. He’s got a second property—a storage place, really—that he rents. We’re getting a warrant to check the premises and see if we can find anything that will lead us to him.”
“So, he’s still out there.” Alexa still felt as if she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sure, she’d been in an accident and had a long couple of days, but why didn’t Detective Rawlings get to the point?
“That’s right.” Detective Rawlings paused, and Alexa wondered if her lungs would explode from holding her breath. “The trouble is, we found a paper at his house. It has a formula on it for a fairly powerful fire accelerant, so we believe he may be planning arson. It also has four addresses on it—your house, Crouching Tiger, Drew’s MMA studio, and your friend Keri’s place.”
Alexa sucked in air so fast, her head did a dizzy swirl. “Keri’s place?” she heard herself ask. Without even registering what she was doing, she stepped closer to Drew. He put his arm around her and guided her up the garage stairs, into the house, and to a seat on the couch.
“Yes, but I’ve spoken with her on the phone. I’ve also sent two officers over there to move Keri somewhere safe until we catch up to Stuart. The other places on the list will be watched as well, and I’m sending a pair of uniforms out to stay with you two. Hang tight for now, stay inside, and I’ll be phoning you soon to say we’ve got him.”
“But it doesn’t make sense.” Alexa’s brain was stuck several sentences back. “Why would he put Keri’s house on the list? He knows I’m not staying there. And I just talked to her. Did her house go on the list because I called her?”
“No, this list was made some time ago—of that, I’m sure.” The phone was muffled for a moment while Detective Rawlings spoke to someone else, then she was back on the line with Alexa. “He may have put Keri’s house on the list when he thought you were there. The list itself may also be nothing more than a scare tactic or a maneuver to buy him time. We’ll get answers soon. Stay close to Drew, stay inside, and keep your guard up.”
Detective Rawlings hung up, and Alexa handed the phone to Drew.
He shook his head. “Keep it.” He walked to the door, locked it, and now he pulled her up to walk beside him as he made a thorough and careful inspection of each door and window. Outside, the storm rattled and raged.
Trailing him and watching him work efficiently to protect her, Alexa felt a stone settle on her heart. They’d come close to something this morning—some understanding. But her situation and the threat of her stalker had once again inserted itself. Would she have been able to follow that lead if Stuart’s sick obsession hadn’t interrupted them? She didn’t know. She was worried that Stu
art would hurt Keri or someone else, that Drew would use her to blight the good things she was doing at Crouching Tiger, that he would simply break her heart. Would she ever be free of fear again?
“Hey, come here.” Drew took her in his arms. “The police know who they’re looking for and have their best people focused on bringing Stuart in. It’s going to be okay.”
Alexa didn’t have the heart to tell him Stuart wasn’t the only person she was afraid of at the moment. She didn’t like misleading him, or leading him on, or whatever this was, and was stiff for two seconds. But she couldn’t resist his hug and quickly melted into his arms. It was funny—he was one of her fears, yet when he put his arms around her, all the fears faded, and she felt safe.
Drew turned his face into her hair and sniffed appreciatively then kissed her head. “Come on.” He released her. “Let’s get up to the safe room. We can wait there for Detective Rawlings’s call.”
Get up to the safe room… he thinks Stuart might try to break in. The fear tried to fountain up at that thought, but Alexa pushed it aside.
“What about my cats?” she asked. “Do we have time to get them?”
“We’ll gather Oreo and Ragbag,” Drew said decisively. “Fieldgar is still upstairs. The last thing we need is Stuart having leverage over us because your cats aren’t safe. But we need to be quick.”
Alexa gulped and nodded. They’d already seen that he was more than happy to threaten her fur babies.
Drew shadowed her as she headed toward the guest bedroom. He checked each room briefly before she entered it, and he had produced a handgun from somewhere. Alexa wanted to ask how long he’d been carrying, but she didn’t want to distract either of them with idle chitchat.
A quick search turned up Oreo, but no Ragbag.
Alexa clutched her black-and-white kitty and tried not to hyperventilate. This was precisely the point in a horror movie when the bad guy would get them—while they were searching for the lost cat.
