A Wrong Bed Christmas: IgnitedWhere There's Smoke

by Kimberly Van Meter

  “What are you doing?” she asked and he silenced her with a look.

  “Do you smoke?”

  She shook her head, brows raised. “It’s terrible for your skin. Why?”

  Someone who was smoking on the street would not have purposefully flicked it all the way up to her front door. No, the smoker had been standing right there.

  Rose huffed at his lack of response and shoved her key into the lock, holding her coat tight around her neck with her other hand. “You’re all wound up for nothing.”

  But Max’s senses remained on high alert. Years on the force had taught him never to ignore his gut. In fact, he’d earned the nickname Spider-Man for how reliable his “Spidey senses” were in the line of duty.

  And the one time he had ignored those senses, he’d paid. Dearly.

  She opened the door and stepped into the entrance of the apartment, her heels sharp against the dark polished boards. She tapped a number into her alarm pin pad and dropped her keys into a crystal bowl, the sound echoing through the empty apartment.

  “I told you nothing was wrong,” Rose continued, shrugging out of her coat and stepping out of her heels. “I don’t need pro—”

  The last word died on her lips as she glanced around. Cushions were scattered across the living room. The drawers of her coffee table had been opened, their contents spilled like blood across the floorboards. A floor lamp lay on its side, surrounded by glinting glass from a smashed photo frame.

  “Oh, my God.” Rose’s breath hitched as she surveyed the damage, her hands fluttering uselessly at her sides.

  She bent down and picked up the silver frame. The photo had a scratch on it from where the glass had broken, marring the face of the young girl standing with an older woman. She traced the jagged line with her fingertip.

  Paper filled with jewelry sketches littered the floor like oversize snow. A bookcase had been overturned, its contents scattered. He tested the weight of the bookcase. Someone strong had done this.

  Red shards glinted on the floor—an ornament had been knocked off her Christmas tree and shattered beyond repair. Two more baubles sat on the floor, unbroken, and the angel on top of the tree hovered at a precarious angle.

  “Stay close while I check the rest of the house,” Max said, his voice level.

  He knew the drill. Clear the area. Don’t leave the victim alone in case the intruder was still in the house. Since it was just the two of them, there was no one to stay behind and watch Rose while he did the clearing.

  He reached into his leather jacket and drew the pistol from his holster. “We need to make sure whoever did this is gone.”

  She pressed her lips together and nodded, drawing nearer to him without argument. They moved together through the dining area and into the kitchen. More cupboards were open there, more glass smashed. A door leading out to a tiny courtyard remained closed.

  It was unlocked.

  “Did you check this today before you left the house?”

  She sucked on her lower lip. “I honestly can’t remember.”

  Max was careful to move slowly so Rose could follow. But his blood pumped fiercely through his veins, his senses tuned to notice the slightest noise or change in atmosphere. A near-silent footstep. A breath.

  He felt her presence at every step, her body close to his as they checked every nook, every corner. Her bedroom was by the front door. It, too, had been ransacked.

  The drawers of her bureau were open, colorful scraps of lace flung everywhere. A purple bra hung from the handle of the drawer and a pile of panties had been dumped nearby like a crumpled rainbow. The head-spinning scent of flowers filled the room. Max spied an overturned perfume bottle, its contents dripping down the drawers to form a puddle on the ground.

  Rose picked up the bottle, her mouth pressed into a thin line. She touched her fingertip to the chipped neck. “This was my mother’s. She brought it with her when we left America.”

  The ink on the label had run, the leaked perfume smearing the words together. Her hand shook and Max reached out, taking the bottle from her so she wouldn’t cut herself. He placed it back on the bureau.

  “We’ll find out who did this, Rose. But you have to believe me when I say this doesn’t feel like an isolated incident.”

  She nodded mutely, her face set into a hard mask. Unemotional. Contained.

  They walked to the living room. “Can you get upstairs from inside the building?”

  Rose shook her head. “It’s a totally separate apartment. The guy who lives there uses the stairs out front.”

  “He might have seen something.”

  “I’m pretty sure he does shift work. He’s hardly ever home in the evenings.” She shrugged, her eyes unfocused. “But you could try.”

  They hovered by the front door, Rose huddled close to him. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her black jeans as though she didn’t want to risk touching anything. But her eyes revealed what the nonchalant pose was trying to hide. Fear.

  The robbers had struck the jewelry store first, but hadn’t taken anything. And now they’d targeted Rose’s home. They were looking for something specific.

  “Is anything missing?” Max asked as softly as he could. It was hard not to sound like a cop when it was all he’d ever known.

  “Not that I can tell.” Her yellow-green eyes clouded over, dark brows pinched together above her pert nose. It was cruel that a women could look so beautiful with a face full of storm clouds.

  He listened intently, but only Rose’s quickening breath broke the silence. He holstered his pistol and watched her for a moment.

  Max turned to inspect the closet by the entrance. It wasn’t built into the wall, but it appeared to be bolted against it for stability. The door was ajar.

  Inside, a black coat hung beside its gray twin. A pair of snow boots and two pairs of black high heels sat on the floor. He bent down to inspect a storage box that had been opened.

  “Do you keep anything valuable in here?” He turned, expecting to see her behind him. But she wasn’t there. “Rose?”

  A crash in the kitchen sent a jolt of adrenaline through him. He sprang up and raced through the apartment, his boots heavy and loud on the wooden floor. Each sense was focused, his eyes capturing and assessing every detail.

  “Rose!” He drew his pistol.

  Something hard connected with his shoulder as the intruder sprinted toward the front door in a blur of black. Max quickly regained his footing, but the person was gone in an instant. Max burst out onto the street only to find the intruder had vanished into thin air.

  A lady walking her dog peered at him curiously, her eyes zeroing in on his gun. She hurried along, her head down. Max slammed his hand down on the brick letterbox as he stalked back into the house, holstering his weapon.

  “Are you okay?” he called out as he jogged through the doorway.

  Rose sat on the ground, her eyes wide and her breathing erratic. Chest heaving, she stared up at him. Unblinking. He dropped to the ground in front of her and inspected her face for cuts and bruises. Thankfully, she appeared to be shocked but not seriously hurt.

  “I came back into the kitchen and he grabbed me from behind.” She touched her fingertips to a bright red spot under one eye and winced.

  “Did you see his face?”

  “It all happened so quickly. He was tall and had dark hair... That’s all I saw after he pushed me over.” She swallowed. “Oh, he had a tattoo on his neck.”

  “Of what?”

  She bit her lip. “Something black...a spade, I think.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  She took a deep breath, her eyes finally focusing on Max. “Where is it?”

  “What?”

  “He said, ‘Where is it?’” She shook her head. “I don’
t know what he was talking about.”

  He’d been prepared for her to cry next, but Rose Lawson held firm. Shell-shocked, but firm. Her bubble of denial had well and truly been shattered today, but she’d taken it like a champ and he respected her for that.

  He had to fight the sudden urge to bundle her up and kiss her until she forgot everything—the trauma, the stress, the reality—but the pressure of his lips. He shoved the thought aside. It wasn’t like him at all to think about anything other than the facts. How had Rose gotten under his skin so quickly?

  Max cleared his throat. “Do you hurt anywhere?”

  “In my brain.” She managed a wan smile. “He clipped my face when he grabbed me, but otherwise I’m fine.”

  “I’m going to check out the front.” He stood and held a hand out to her. “I need you to come with me so I can keep an eye on you this time. And no walking off unless I say so.”

  “Okay.” She brushed aside his hand and stood on her own, dusting her palms down the front of her jeans.

  “I mean it. Don’t go wandering off.”

  “I said okay.” She followed him, but a scowl narrowed her eyes. The mark on her face had started to bloom. She’d have a nasty bruise there tomorrow.

  They wove through the debris of her belongings and Max walked back out onto the sidewalk to take stock of the area. Rose hovered at the entrance and he glanced at her every few seconds. Everything appeared the same as it had been before with the exception of a missing black car. It could have been the getaway vehicle, or it could belong to a neighbor who’d gone out. He hadn’t heard an engine start, but noise from a renovation a few buildings down drowned out everything else.

  Rubbing a hand along his jaw, he scanned his memory for the model. Nothing. The car had been nondescript, a sedan. Not old, but not brand-new, either.

  His breath puffed out in front of him. The sun had dipped along with the temperature and the light from Rose’s apartment filtered out around her, highlighting her silhouette.

  “What happens now?” she asked as he walked up the path.

  “We should find you a relative to stay with,” he said, motioning for her to go inside. He closed the door behind him, willing the warmth from the apartment to seep into his limbs.

  Silence.

  “What if I don’t have anyone?” she asked, her voice icier than the snow-covered ground outside.

  “What about your father?”

  “It’s complicated. We’re not...” She attempted a smile but it came out more like a grimace. “No, I can’t.”

  “He hired me to look after you. Obviously he’s concerned for your safety.”

  She put up a hand to stop him arguing with her. “I’m not staying with him. End of story. Besides, lightning doesn’t strike twice, right?”

  She wanted him to reassure her. But he couldn’t, not after what had just happened. He wouldn’t jeopardize her safety, not for anything.

  “Don’t you have anyone else to stay with? A friend, another relative?” He knew her mother was deceased, but surely she had someone else in her life.

  “I’ve only been back in New York a month. The closest thing I have to a friend is the barista at the coffee shop I go to every day,” she said, her eyes meeting his, her chin tilted.

  She didn’t want his pity. He could see that as plain as day.

  “You shouldn’t be alone.” Max shook his head again and raked a hand through his hair.

  Everything about this scenario rankled. His gut had told him this was more than a simple robbery. The intruder’s question only solidified his suspicions. The jewels in Rose’s bedroom appeared untouched apart from them being dumped onto her bed, though she’d have to confirm it. He wasn’t a jewelry expert, but he was sure her pieces would be worth something.

  No, this wasn’t just a robbery. A dangerous person wanted something from Rose Lawson, and he was going to find out exactly what it was.

  Copyright © 2015 by Stefanie Little

  ISBN-13: 9781460386194

  A Wrong Bed Christmas

  Copyright © 2015 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

  Ignited

  Copyright © 2015 by Kimberly Van Meter

  Where There’s Smoke

  Copyright © 2015 by Liz Talley

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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