by Tara Wyatt
A silence stretched between them, and when he stole a glance at her, her bottom lip was caught between her teeth again.
After several seconds she answered. “You know, I don’t think I ever thought about it the way other kids do. I was just always going to be an actress.”
“Because that’s what you wanted to do?”
“Because it’s what was always going to happen.” He could almost hear her unspoken “whether I liked it or not.” She gave her head a small shake and smiled. “Maybe someday I’ll go to college. I’d like to. You’ve found your thing with fighting. I’m still looking for mine, you know?” She sent him another smile. “One thing at a time, I guess.”
Sadness tugged at his chest as he thought of how alone she must’ve been growing up, with only cold, manipulative adults around her. So much wealth and fame that she’d been trapped by it.
When he’d first started talking, he’d felt the tiniest bit of worry that she’d look at him differently once she knew he hadn’t gone to college and that he was dyslexic. But it had been worry for nothing because she was still looking at him with that sweetness and light he found so damn appealing.
He pulled into the driveway of the small 1920s bungalow, with ivy crawling up one side of the house, obscuring the off-white stucco.
“Cute place,” he said, putting the Jeep in park. “It suits you.”
Pink spots jumped up on her cheeks, and she smiled, glancing from him to the house. “Thanks. I like it here. It’s the first time I’ve lived away from my parents, and I’m really loving it.”
“Must be freeing,” he said, cutting the ignition and snapping off his seat belt, then taking in the details of the property as he pushed open his door. The driveway ran along one side of the house, and a walkway paved with patio stones led to the front door. A low shrub hedge separated her yard from the neighbors’, and a couple of palms lined the far side of the driveway. A large cedar took up most of the front yard, shading the front of the house, and a pair of shaggy cypresses flanked what he assumed was the living room window.
He helped Alexa down from the Jeep, frowning as he followed her up to the house. No outward signs of a security system. No decal announcing the presence of one, no visible motion-detecting lights, no cameras. The windows looked newer and secure, but there was no front porch. Only a set of three concrete steps leading up to the front door, which, he was glad to see, was solid wood with a deadbolt. She wouldn’t stay at Sierra and Sean’s forever, and they’d need to look at upgrading her security for when she moved back into her house.
Alexa fished her keys out of her purse and moved to unlock the front door. But just as she brought the key to the lock, the slight pressure of her touch sent the door swinging open. It hadn’t been locked, hadn’t even been fully latched. She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes wide. “I know I locked it before leaving yesterday.”
A surge of protectiveness pushed up through Zack’s chest, sending his blood pumping through his veins. He grabbed Alexa’s hand and pulled her back toward the Jeep, not wanting her out of his sight for even a second. He considered having her wait in the car while he checked out the house, but doing that could play into a trap. Separating was never a good idea, and leaving her alone was an even worse one.
He pulled open the passenger side door and unlocked the glove box, then yanked out the loaded Smith & Wesson M&P9 he kept there. Slamming the door—there was no point being quiet, because anyone in the house would’ve already heard the Jeep’s engine and their doors’ opening and closing when they’d arrived—he turned to face Alexa, whose face was pale, her sweet blue eyes wide as she stared at the house. Those blues swiveled from the house and dropped to the gun in his hand, and she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her hands over her arms.
“Don’t leave me out here alone,” she said, her tone soft and pleading.
“No. I wouldn’t do that. I’m going to update Sean, and then we’re going to go check it out.”
After a quick call to Sean, letting him know they’d found Alexa’s place unlocked and the door slightly ajar, he nodded at Alexa. “Stay behind me and keep your hand on my back so I know you’re there. I want you close.”
“I’ll stay close. I promise.”
He turned and made his way back to the house, Alexa tucked behind him. Gun raised in front of him, he nudged open the front door, sweeping both the weapon and his eyes back and forth across the small entryway and what he could see of the living room. The house was completely silent.
Silent, and trashed.
Chapter 7
From behind Zack, Alexa gasped as she took in her ransacked house, fear cascading over her like icy water. She curled her fingers into Zack’s T-shirt, a slight tremble coursing through her. Gun raised in front of him, Zack took a slow step forward, and she followed, her heart racing, the sound of her pulse in her ears almost deafening.
The mirror above her fireplace was smashed, shards scattered across the hardwood floor and glinting in the sunlight coming in through the window. The flat-screen TV was gone, her decorative knickknacks—candleholders, a porcelain horse, a small silver tray—strewn on the floor, most of them broken. A framed picture, an antique print of a horse, lay against the wall, the glass cracked. The baskets in which she kept magazines and books had been upended, their contents littering the floor, torn pages sticking out at odd angles.
“No security system?” Zack asked over his shoulder as they made their way through the living room. A sickening sensation crawled over her skin. Someone had been in here, in her house, going through her things. Some of her fear gave way to anger, and she clenched her shaking hands into fists.
“No. I’d asked the landlord to put one in, but it hadn’t happened yet.”
“Son of a bitch.” The lines of the muscles in his forearms were taut, and she kept herself firmly behind him, watching the way he led them toward the kitchen with graceful, easy confidence. He was so strong, so sure, so capable that she didn’t even have words for what she felt, sheltered as she was behind him. Grateful and relieved, yes, but there was more to it than that. She felt safe, despite the sense of violation that made her want to scream and break things.
They made their way past the table and chairs at the front of the kitchen. A painting that had hung on the wall where the living room and kitchen met was missing, but it was no great loss, since she’d painted it herself and it wasn’t worth anything.
“Stuff’s missing?” he asked softly, his gun trained in front of him.
“Yeah. The TV from the living room and a painting, so far,” she said, relaxing a little as she realized the unlikeliness of the thieves’ still being in the house.
They stepped over a toppled potted plant, the dirt crunching softly beneath their feet. The kitchen was relatively undisturbed. Drawers were half-open, cupboard doors were ajar, but there wasn’t anything worth stealing in here.
If it had been, in fact, a robbery.
As though he could pick up on her thoughts, Zack murmured, “Pretty goddamn fishy that this would happen the same day you…heard what you heard.”
“I know.”
“We’ll check out the rest of the house, you can grab your stuff, and we’ll get out of here.”
She nodded, tucking herself close behind him. Heat from his body brushed her skin, and she wanted to press her face into the muscles of his back, to breathe him in and bask in his protection.
They moved into the sunroom behind the kitchen. The chest she used as a coffee table had been wrenched open, splinters lying on the floor. Books and DVDs lay strewn over the sectional sofa, the cushions all pulled out and opened, stuffing spilling out of the zippers.
“What was in the chest?”
“Nothing valuable. Books. DVDs. A few photo albums. Old scripts.”
“Anything missing from in here?”
She shook her head. “No. Still only the TV and painting.”
“How many bedrooms?”
“Just t
wo.”
“What’s this door?” he asked, pointing with his gun at a door off the kitchen.
“Bathroom.”
Nodding, he nudged the door open. It creaked as it swung wide, and she jumped slightly, brushing against him. A quick scan of the bathroom revealed nothing out of place. The thieves likely hadn’t even come in here.
“Where’s your bedroom?”
Despite everything, a warmth flushed over her skin at his words. “The other door off the kitchen.”
He pushed the door open.
She’d been lulled by the minimal damage and property missing, and hadn’t braced herself for what awaited her in her bedroom. She pressed a shaky hand to her mouth, her heart in her throat.
The mattress lay half-on, half-off the padded king-size bed frame, the sheets pulled away and ripped. Pillows had been torn open, and the mirrored stand beside the bed had been smashed completely, drawers lying askew on the floor, empty of their contents.
“Shit,” Zack whispered. He pointed at the gaping hole in the wall facing the bed. “TV?”
“Used to be.” Gingerly, she made her way across the floor, stepping over broken glass, pieces of drywall, drawers, and feathers, her chest aching. “I think all my jewelry’s gone. A lot of it was in these drawers.”
“Anything expensive?”
“A few things, but mostly sentimental stuff. Anything really valuable is either at my parents’ in the safe or in a safe-deposit box.”
Quickly they checked her en suite bathroom and the second bedroom, from which her laptop had been stolen. The thieves had also knocked over a set of shelves, leaving more damage behind. Zack pulled his phone from his pocket and paced up and down the hallway as he made a call, his gun still clutched in one big, strong hand.
Shaking slightly, Alexa moved into the center of the room, standing in a patch of sunlight and closing her eyes, not wanting to look at the damage around her. The new start she’d been so excited about was completely tarnished now. The new home she’d been thrilled to call her own had been violated and no longer felt safe. Maybe she’d been foolish to move out on her own. But then the thought of moving back home…A clamminess rose up on her skin, the sunshine doing nothing to chase it away.
She couldn’t go home. She didn’t want to stay here. A sense of loneliness swamped her, and she swallowed against the thickness gathering in her throat. She blinked, and hot tears dropped down her cheeks as she stared at the blurry patch of sunlight on the floor, tracing her toe around its edges, just trying to breathe.
It was all too much, and everything she’d been through over the past day pressed down on her, a crushing weight on her shoulders.
Everything stopped—her heart, her ability to breathe, the entire world, it seemed—as she wondered if her father knew what she’d overheard yesterday. Her legs went weak as more tears fell, and she was about to sink to the floor when a strong arm circled her waist. Zack held her up, pulling her back against his firm chest.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, and she relaxed into his strength. Into his warmth. Into him. She took a deep shuddering breath and turned, burying her face against him. Her shoulders shook as sobs racked her, and his arms came up around her, cradling her against him. “Shhh.” His warm breath fanned against her temple, and she closed her eyes, timing her own breaths with the rise and fall of his chest against her cheek.
“What if this is related to what happened yesterday?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly.
“It might be,” said Zack, tightening his arms around her, his lips brushing her temple as he spoke. A shiver worked its way through her. God, the feeling of his lips on her skin…it was incredible. Just that tiny touch made her want to weave her fingers into his hair and pull his mouth down to hers.
If only that were actually an option.
“We need to go to the police. What if my father knows what I heard? That puts not only me but you and the entire team in danger. I can’t have that.”
“If you want, we could just report the break-in. You don’t have to tell them about your father if you don’t want to.” He slipped a hand under her chin and tipped her face up. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll keep you safe.”
Her stomach fluttered, and heat pulsed between her legs. “I have to go to the police. It’s selfish if I don’t.”
Zack’s hand slid from her chin to her cheek, and his thumb grazed her cheekbone, brushing away her tears. He pulled her a little tighter against him, his chest rising and falling steadily against hers as his eyes dropped to her mouth. His head dipped slightly, just the tiniest bit, and her breath caught in her chest. She held completely still, terrified of shattering the moment. Terrified of what would happen if he kissed her. She both wanted it and didn’t want it, for completely different reasons.
“So sweet,” he whispered, and he closed his eyes, his jaw clenched tight. He pressed his forehead to hers for several breaths, his thumb still tracing over her cheekbone, and she had the feeling that as much as she was waging an internal war, so was he.
Which was completely perplexing. Because he couldn’t possibly be feeling what she was. He couldn’t want her the way she wanted him.
He wouldn’t. And even if he did, it’d be wasted on her. It’d be like giving someone who didn’t know how to drive a Ferrari. A lovely gift that she wouldn’t have the first clue how to handle.
He brushed his nose against her cheek, and she shook slightly, that internal battle ripping her to shreds as she fought to hold still and not do something stupid.
They couldn’t. It would be wrong. A mistake. Maybe even dangerous.
With a soft growl that had her belly and thighs clenching, he pulled away, his brown eyes dark and hot. “Gather up what you need, and let’s go talk to the cops.”
* * *
Zack raised a hand in greeting when he spotted Sean sitting in one of the chairs in the glass and chrome lobby of the Robbery-Homicide Division, housed in the towering administration building of the Los Angeles Police Department. Sean pushed to his feet, buttoning his suit jacket as he stood, and Zack glanced down, realizing he was still in his post-workout sweats. Not very professional, but, given the circumstances, it couldn’t be helped. Their footsteps echoed off of the tiled floor, cops and civilians alike moving around them. Voices swirled together into a low hum, mixing with the click of shoes on tile and the occasional buzz of a cell phone.
After he’d made sure the house was empty and had known that Alexa was safe, Zack had called Sean and filled him in on the break-in. Then he’d almost kissed Alexa, and then he’d called Sean again to let him know that they were going to the police.
Calling the boss to fill him in? Yeah. Good thinking.
Almost kissing Alexa, who was not only a client but not the type of woman he should even think about starting something with? Colossally stupid.
“Alexa, honey, I’m so sorry,” said Sean, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
She nodded and sent him a small smile, but she was pale, her eyes sad. “Thanks.”
They started walking through the bright, airy lobby toward a bank of elevators. “So the break-in made you change your mind?”
She sighed heavily and fiddled with the strap on her purse. She’d changed out of her borrowed clothes before they’d left her house, from the too-tight jeans and T-shirt and into a flowing white top, black leggings, and a pair of black-and-white sneakers. Although Zack missed the sight of all those curves, he had to admit that she looked a hell of a lot more comfortable now.
She leveled a look at Sean. “Be straight with me. In your professional opinion, what are the odds that this is a coincidence? That I heard what I heard yesterday and suddenly my house gets broken into?”
Sean frowned and shrugged as he jabbed a thumb against the elevator’s call button. “I don’t know about the odds, but from a security standpoint, it’d be foolish to treat it as an unrelated coincidence.”
She nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “That’s what I
thought. As scary as it is and although he’s my father…I can’t stay quiet. That wouldn’t be right.” She shuddered slightly, as though a chill had just run through her, and Zack laid a hand on the small of her back, rubbing in small circles. She leaned into his touch, and it only made him want to pull her into his arms.
Goddammit.
“So why did you want to meet here, instead of just going to a precinct?” she asked as they stepped into the elevator.
“I have some LAPD connections. My friend Antonio’s a detective with major crimes, and he gave me the name of someone in Robbery-Homicide we should talk to. Cut through the rigmarole of going to a precinct, filing a report, having to answer the same questions, tell the same story over and over again.” Sean glanced down at Alexa. “He also promised that Detective Morales is very discreet. You’re in good hands.”
Alexa froze, all the blood draining from her face. “Did you say Morales?”
Sean nodded slowly. “Antonio did a directory search, and there are eleven officers with the last name Morales on the force. We have no way of knowing which one your father was talking about.”
Alexa nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin line. An ache took root in the center of Zack’s chest, because fuck, did he wish he could carry some of this for her. Her world had been turned upside down, and while he was impressed with how she was handling it, he wished she didn’t have to handle it at all.
“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” She leaned back into Zack’s hand a little more. God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to really comfort her. To pull her against him, to stroke her hair, to kiss her and promise her that nothing would ever hurt her.
But that couldn’t happen, so instead he stared at the electronic screen embedded in the elevator, watching the numbers go up as the elevator rose. When they reached the seventh floor, the doors opened with a soft chime, and Sean led them out and down a hallway. Turning a corner, they almost ran smack into Mac, who leaned against a wall, one foot propped casually against it, holding a paper cup of coffee.
