They nodded greetings at Madison, and then he continued. “Walt from next door came over and did his Dirty Harry imitation, and by all accounts scared the living shit out of the fool.”
“I know who it was.”
Four sets of eyes landed on her. Hunter sat on the coffee table, his knees bracketing hers, so she didn’t have to look up at him. “Honey, Nelle never got a look at the person. Neither did Walt. Nobody knows who it was.”
She’d arrived home a hysterical, out-of-her-mind mess, overreacting to a minor piece of mischief. She knew that. And now, after hearing the barest summary of the situation, claimed to know who’d committed the deed. Chances were she didn’t come across as the most reliable source of information. Hugging Joy to her shoulder, she repeated her words as firmly as she could. “I know who it was.”
Office Stern lowered himself into the chair closest to the couch. “Miss Foley, correct?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Who do you think entered the premises today?”
“Cody Winslow. My ex-boyfriend. He has a drug problem and a gambling problem. He broke into my last apartment while I was at work and cleaned the place out.”
Stern scribbled notes, which gave her hope. “The police took a report—”
Hunter slid his hand under her knee and squeezed her leg. “Baby, he doesn’t know where you are.”
She shook her head, bit her lip, and prepared for strong, solid, calm Hunter Knox to go ballistic. “Remember how I told you Rachel and I went to Old Navy to buy work shirts after we filled out our paperwork?”
“Yes.” An ominous look came into his eyes.
“I ran into Cody on the way out of the store.”
He shot to his feet. “For the love of God, Madison, why didn’t you mention this before now?”
She winced. “What was there to tell? Dumb luck put us in the same store at the same time. I told him to go to hell, and I left him standing in a parking lot. I have no clue where to find him. As far as I knew, he had no clue where to find me. I hoped I’d seen the last of him.”
“What did he want?”
“The same thing he always wants. Money. Except…” Hunter wasn’t going to like this.
His blue eyes narrowed. Slowly, he lowered himself to the coffee table again. “Except what?”
She avoided Hunter’s gaze. “He had a new plan about how to get it. He acted all interested in Joy. Was she healthy? Could he see a picture? I figured I could give him that much, so I told him she’s perfect, and I showed him a picture from the photo roll on my phone.” Snuggling Joy a little closer, she went on. “I immediately regretted my generosity, because, typical Cody, you give him an inch and he takes everything. He texted the picture to his number. I didn’t know why, but it made me nervous. Then he said he wanted to help me do what was best for her.”
Hunter ran his big, protective hand over Joy’s back. “You don’t need his help.”
Her laugh sounded harsh to her own ears. “Absolutely not. He told me he had a friend who could put Joy in the arms of a loving, financially secure couple who would give her the best of everything and put ten thousand dollars in each of our pockets as an expression of their gratitude.”
“Fucking dirt bag,” Hunter said under his breath.
She closed her eyes and nodded. “I told him I’d never agree, and when he insisted I owed him ten grand if I chose to keep his baby, I informed him if he ever showed his face again, I’d sue him for child support and garnish every dime he earned for the next eighteen years.” The response sounded ridiculous, now, and forced a humorless laugh out of her. “As if he’d ever actually hold down a job. It was the only threat I could come up with at the time.”
She opened her eyes and glanced at Hunter. He looked ready to commit murder. A muscle in his jaw flexed. He gripped the edge of the coffee table so hard his knuckles turned white. “I wish you’d told me.”
“I raced back here Monday afternoon, planning to, but by the time I turned onto this street, I’d convinced myself I was being paranoid. This neighborhood might be within the same greater Atlanta area, but it is light years away from the places Cody hangs out and nowhere he’d dream of looking for me. I mean, come on.” She gestured at their surroundings. “Things here are normal and stable. I felt safe.”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “You’re lying to yourself, or me, or both of us. Some part of you still worried he could cause trouble. I know this because you’ve been wound tight for days. I put it down to separation anxiety, but you haven’t been nervous or anxious, you’ve been scared.”
“Cautious,” she corrected, because she could see she’d hurt him by not coming to him with her concerns. She’d have to try and explain the other things that had held her back later, when they were alone. Not now, in front of the officers.
“Bullshit, Madison.” He got up and prowled the room. “I know scared. I deal with lots of scared people in my line of work, and I hope I never see the kind of terror I saw on your face when you ran up to the house a few minutes ago.”
Officer Langley cleared his throat. “Miss Foley, did Mr.”—he broke off and consulted his notes—“Winslow threaten you, or make any threat to take the baby?”
The whole encounter had left her feeling very threatened, and angry, but the truth was… “No. He wanted me to willingly participate in the sale of my baby, or he wanted me to give him ten thousand dollars.”
“And the last time you saw or had any contact with him was Monday afternoon in a store parking lot?”
“Yes.” Joy fidgeted in her arms. She leaned over, put the baby in the swing, and turned it on low, but kept hold of Joy’s hand. The ghost of the panicked mother who’d pulled up to the house ten minutes ago still lived inside her, and she refused to let go of her daughter. Not yet. Silence stretched and she glanced at Hunter, who’d moved to stand beside the swing. Like a sentinel. “That’s another reason I didn’t say anything. He didn’t follow me when I left the store.”
“How do you know?” Langley posed the question.
She shifted her attention to the officers. “He drives a black F-150. I used to look for it all the time, when I first had Joy, but after I moved here I broke the habit. Let my guard down.” Let your daughter down. “Still, I would have spotted his truck from a mile away.”
Hunter rested his big hand over her knees. “What if he traded the black F-150 for a blue Chevy? Or if his friend with the rich couple connections was driving?”
“I didn’t think about those possibilities then,” she admitted, “but I’m thinking about them now.”
“I can’t promise one of those possibilities didn’t occur,” Officer Langley said, “but I can tell you it’s very unlikely your ex managed to tail you all the way across town, no matter what he was driving. Despite what you see on TV, most drivers don’t have the skills to just hop in their car and follow someone that distance. Not in Atlanta. This city experiences some of the densest traffic in the nation. Throw in fifty miles of heavy rail, ninety-some bus routes, sixteen hundred licensed taxis, and over forty-five miles of bike paths, and you’ve got a whole lotta stars that have to align to tail a vehicle to an unknown destination.”
“On top of that,” Stern interjected, “today’s break-in smells like a crime of opportunity. Nothing more. Somebody happened by, spotted the open window, got the lay of the land well enough to realize, ‘Hot damn, I found myself an empty, unlocked house.’ None of the neighbors report seeing an unfamiliar vehicle, so it’s possible the intruder lives nearby and fled on foot.”
“A kid?”
She couldn’t tell by Hunter’s voice if he was skeptical or in agreement.
Langley shrugged. “A bored teen. Possibly someone taking a dare.”
“Or it could be Cody.” She didn’t care about looking paranoid anymore. She cared about protecting Joy. “Somehow he tracked me here, staked the place out to make sure nobody was home, and then came in through the window in the hopes of finding cash or so
mething valuable he could convert to fast cash. In his mind, I owe him ten thousand dollars, and he can’t afford to write that off—”
Stern leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Is there some other way he could have learned your whereabouts? A friend or family member? A social media post?”
“No. Nothing like that. I’m not on social media. I honestly don’t know how he found me.” She released Joy’s hand and twisted her fingers together. “Maybe when he texted himself the photo from my phone, he established a link and now he can track me through cell towers or something?”
“Miss Foley, is your ex Jason Bourne?”
She swiveled her head to look at Langley, whose faint smile suggested he was trying to make a joke to ease her mind. It didn’t work. “Of course not, but he’s desperate and you can’t underestimate him.”
“He can’t track you through your phone,” Stern said, commanding her attention again. “Did the photo contain any background elements he could use to pin down the house or neighborhood?”
“I don’t think so. It’s just Joy with her teddy bear.” She reached for her handbag, and then stopped. “Shoot. My purse is in the car.”
Hunter went looking for his phone, and returned a minute later, scrolling as he walked back to the living room. “This one?” He turned the phone toward her.
She nodded. He handed the phone to Stern. “I only see baby and bear, but I’ll let you be the judge.”
Stern stared at the image, widened the screen—presumably to zoom in on some aspect—and then handed the phone back to Hunter. “Yeah, he didn’t get any information from this, except Miss Foley has a very cute daughter.”
This was slipping away from her. She could feel them discounting her suspicions. The knot in her stomach tightened. “Officers, please. Can’t you at least find him and question him? Maybe charge him with…I don’t know…blackmail, or attempted child trafficking? I don’t know where he’s living, but I can give you a list of places he likes to hang out.”
“Do you have a picture of him?” Langley asked.
Hope surged, but quickly ebbed. “No. I can describe him, if that helps.”
Stern raised his hand in a hold-on gesture. “Do you know if Mr. Winslow has ever been arrested by Atlanta PD? If so, we can get his mug shot and fingerprints.”
“I’m sorry.” She sagged back against the sofa. “I don’t know.”
“All right. We can look into that, too.” The older officer took a deep breath and then blew it out slowly. “I’m stretching the shit out of this to characterize it as anything but breaking and entering, but here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to call CSI out and have them check the window and doors for prints. Assuming they can lift anything, they’ll run them through our system and get a list of likely matches. If Cody Winslow is in our system and makes the list, we’ll definitely track him down and have a chat with him.”
She resisted the urge to reiterate everything she’d already told them. It wouldn’t do any good. They weren’t starting a manhunt based on her word. “How long does it take to see if prints match?”
“Couple weeks.”
A couple weeks! The shock of the news must have shown on her face, because Stern shook his head. “I can’t put a rush on this. Those guys have murders, and rapes, and all kinds of felonies to deal with.”
“I understand.” She took Joy’s hand again and held fast. “I’m grateful for your help.”
“We’ll let you know if we get any hits with the prints. In the meantime”—Stern stood and his gaze shifted to encompass Hunter—“you’ve got a real nice alarm system installed. Wouldn’t hurt to use it.”
Chapter Seventeen
A muffled cry tugged Hunter out of sleep. He sat up, his body on auto-pilot, and checked the bedside clock to see if Joy wanted her three a.m. feeding. But the clock read four thirty, and the louder, more urgent follow-up cry came from beside him in bed, not from the baby bed on his dresser across the room.
Madison.
He leaned over her, thinking a few calm words and a touch might soothe her back to restful dreams without actually waking her up. “Shh. You’re okay, baby. Everything’s okay.”
She kicked at the blankets and her cry got louder. Started to take shape. “Nnnnn…”
So much for not waking her up. Light from the hall filtered into the bedroom, and he could see her tear-streaked cheeks plain enough. “Madison.” He shook her shoulder gently as he said her name.
She came out of the nightmare swinging. “No!” A fist connected with his chest. The other bounced off his shoulder and smacked knuckles-first into the headboard. “Oof. Stay away. Stay away from her. I’ll kill you…I’ll kill you…”
Or die trying. On that grim thought, he threw a leg over her hips, caught her flailing arms, and pinned them to the pillow on either side of her thrashing head. “Madison, you’re dreaming. Wake up.”
“I’ll—” Her eyes flew open and slowly focused on him. “I…oh, my God. Joy?”
“She’s over there, in her bed.” Miraculously, still asleep. He loosed his hold on her wrists and kissed her forehead. “You had a dream.”
She blinked. A shudder shook her. “A dream?”
He kissed one wet cheek then the other. “A bad one.”
Her shaky exhale feathered over his neck while her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders. “Very bad.” She clung tight. “I woke you. I’m sorry.”
“Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head but then sighed. “I can’t be sorry I ever met him, because without him I wouldn’t have Joy, but I want him gone. Forever. I have never had a hateful thought about anyone. I wasn’t raised that way, but…”
“Let me handle the hateful thoughts.” He pressed a kiss to her parted lips and tamped down on his body’s automatic reaction. She needed comfort. “Let me handle all of it. You don’t have to worry. You’re safe. Joy’s safe. I promise.”
“Okay.” She nodded but didn’t release her hold on him. Instead, her soft, damp mouth slid along the curve of his shoulder, and he felt his self-control slipping away.
“Madison…”
“Help me forget, Hunter.” Her tongue traced a line up his throat. “Make me stop thinking. Please.” In contrast to her whispered plea, she nipped his jaw, hard, and ground her hips against his. “Fuck the ugliness right out of my head. Replace it with something honest and good.”
The raw need in her words overrode every bit of sound judgment he possessed. He reached between them, took hold of the hem of her T-shirt, and dragged it up her body. She let him, without so much as a whimper of protest, which told him how far fear had transported her beyond her normal concerns. As soon as he swept the shirt over her head, she sealed her lips to his and kissed him with hot, reckless urgency. Her tongue raced around his mouth. She arched against him, again and again, until self-preservation had him flexing his hips and pinning hers to the bed.
“Slow. Slow. We need to go slow.”
Her chin squared. She brought his hand to her breast and squeezed a lot harder than he’d ever dare.
“Jesus. Hold on.” Of course she didn’t listen. Their hands tangled in a haste to work his briefs down. By the time he kicked his feet free she’d already ditched her yellow panties. He wasn’t even sure how, but he suspected she’d torn them off. He reared up on all fours and reached for a condom.
“Hurry,” she murmured when he sat back. Then she wrapped her hands around the base of his cock and got herself a firm grip. A quick, rough squeeze followed and he nearly fumbled the condom.
“Fuuuuck, Madison. You do that again, we’re not gonna need the rubber, ’cause I’m going to come all over us.”
She closed her eyes, either out of impatience, or to let the image of him exploding like a geyser simmer in her imagination. He used the moment to roll the condom on and then prepared to reverse their positions by sliding his arm around her waist, using the small of her back as a tunnel.
“No
.” She bent her left leg and braced her foot on his hip. She angled her right leg out and dug her heel into the mattress. “I don’t want it like that.” Hall light reflected in her eyes, giving them a feverish glint. “I want it like this.”
The muscles in his legs and hips quivered with the urge to thrust into her. Fold those slender legs back until her knees brushed her earlobes, and give it to her exactly the way she wanted. “It’s too soon.”
She tipped her head and looked at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Don’t do that. Don’t treat me like I’m fragile or weak.” Her fingers curled into the comforter and she raised her hips. “Treat me like I’m strong. Like I can handle anything.”
Hell. She’d managed to wrap a lot of self-validation up in what he’d once considered a relatively uncomplicated sex position. But still… “How about we start with you on top, and I’ll flip us around after—”
“No.”
“Or I put you on your hands and knees, and you keep your pretty little ass in the air for as long as you please?” And crawl away if the action got too rough.
“Stop trying to save me, dammit.” She clasped his shoulders and practically shook him. “I don’t need a protector. I need you. I need this.” She ran her hand down his abs, and gripped him again. “Trust me, respect me, enough to give me what I need.”
Stop trying to save me. Shit. Was that what he was doing? A fist of desire slammed into his gut and reverberated all the way to his balls. He wanted this woman so deeply and constantly that even the thought of letting her go felt like losing a vital organ. Here she was, demanding exactly what he longed to give her, and he was being heroic? Fuck that. “Christ, you win.”
“Hurry,” she said again and used her other hand on her clit.
“One…damn…minute.” He ground out the words while he pumped a crazy load of Liquid Silk into his palm. Then he shoo’d her hands away and more or less slapped it on. She moaned and lifted for him. He rewarded her with another quick slap, making sure the flat of his palm connected with the plushest parts of her.
Emergency Delivery (Love Emergency) Page 16
