by Regan Black
Catching a flash of orange in her peripheral, she noticed a man wearing his ball cap backward, loitering at the west end of the block. He raised his phone, presumably taking pictures of the scene. Her comforting delusion of happy-ever-after dissolved.
Was his phone aimed at her? She moved closer to the center of the crowd, nudging Bethany along with her, grateful her friend hadn’t left the scene. Julia didn’t care if Bethany stayed out of concern or curiosity or admiration for the first responders assessing the scene across the street, she just needed a friend.
“What do you think happened to the doors?” Julia asked quietly, her mind kicking into solution-and-survival mode.
“Probably just a malfunction with the electronic lock or something,” Bethany replied. “Do you think I should tell them what we saw?”
Julia nodded. She couldn’t imagine a lock malfunction would have shattered the glass. “It might give them a better starting point.” She suppressed a shudder. “I’ll go with you.”
While Bethany explained what they’d seen, Julia watched the emergency teams swarming around them. It was so easy to envision Mitch working among them, focused and calm despite the questions and anxious bystanders. Just as he’d behaved with her from the moment she’d walked up to the bar. He kept moving forward, intent on his assigned task of protecting her, levelheaded and kind at every turn.
Thinking about Mitch as a firefighter, working among those who’d responded, stemmed another surge of distress. She hadn’t known him long, but it was easy to see this was exactly where he was meant to be. His suspension, as she’d told him, was cut-and-dried and should be reversed without any trouble. Although she wasn’t familiar with the fire department’s internal policies or politics, it troubled her that they were taking so long to schedule the hearing to reinstate him.
They’d been guided back across the street. Julia’s mind was so absorbed with Mitch that the next officer to approach them startled her.
“Pardon me, ladies,” he said, and smiled. “We’d like to take you to the station for a few more questions.” He gestured toward the west end of the block, well away from the crowd of temporarily displaced employees.
“Anything to help,” Bethany replied.
Julia hesitated. “We can answer questions right here. Please,” she added belatedly.
“Station is warmer.” The cop’s smile disappeared. “This way.” He reached for Julia’s elbow.
She sidestepped out of his reach, pulling Bethany back, as well. “Why don’t you send someone down tomorrow? We’re overwhelmed right now.”
The officer muttered an insult to lawyers everywhere. “Come on, lady.” He glanced toward the corner. “I’m just trying to do my job.”
Bethany yelped as another officer came up behind her. “Julia, what is this?”
“Stop that!” Julia tried to help her friend. “We’ll answer your questions right here.” Neither she nor Bethany was going anywhere without someone she trusted and, right now, the only name on that short list was Mitch Galway.
“Cool it.” The unyielding barrel of a gun dug into her ribs. “Cooperate or I shoot your friend,” the officer said.
At the now-familiar order to cooperate, Julia stopped fighting. No doubt in her mind that the stalker was behind this. He’d probably managed to keep Mitch from intervening, as well. She was on her own with no ideas. All she could do was pray for an opportunity to let Bethany escape whatever fate the stalker had in mind.
*
After an hour of prowling around the Marburg office building, watching for the stalker’s return, Mitch had gone out to his brother’s auto shop. He’d spent the afternoon convincing Stephen to take the sublet. He even gave Stephen the spare key, letting him know they’d be cleared out later tonight. At this point it was better to go back to Julia on this issue as a fait accompli. She had enough on her plate with the case. Though he respected her preference for familiar surroundings and routine, they needed to force the stalker to make a mistake.
His thoughts about the apartment vaporized when he found Walnut Street blocked off by police. It was hard to tell as he turned the corner, but it seemed as if a convention of emergency vehicles, flashers swirling, were gathered near the Marburg building.
Stopped at the next traffic light, he checked his phone for any communication from her. Only one text had come through since his last check-in with Julia, and it was from her stalker.
You’ll need more than this phone number to stop me.
Mitch’s pulse slammed into overdrive. He drove to her apartment building and parked in the space Mr. Capello had assigned him. He’d get there faster on foot anyway. He sent Julia a text message and then leaped from the car and ran to the Marburg building.
Fire department and police vehicles had cordoned off the entire block. Wincing against the glare of emergency and media lights, Mitch sought out Julia, praying she was with the cluster of people behind the tape the police had stretched between barricades.
He chided himself for not having a plan for this type of emergency. How arrogant he’d been assuming the only threat to her would be direct and personal. He could almost hear the lecture Grant would level on him when they reached the club.
And they would reach the club. He had to think positively.
He searched for her red hair. She’d pulled it up again today and worn a charcoal blouse under another sexy, feminine power suit in dark blue. He swore. She might as well be in camouflage in this crowd. It was clear the building had evacuated quickly—very few people had coats or belongings with them. He stopped at the corner, looking up and down the route she normally would walk to and from work. She wouldn’t have gone to her apartment, not alone. Why hadn’t she contacted him?
Where the hell was she? Spotting a few familiar faces among the firefighters on scene, he resisted the temptation to stop and ask about the situation. Julia would fill him and they could search for answers later—together.
Mitch waded into the milling onlookers, asking for Julia by name, but no one seemed to know her whereabouts. He was ready to call Grant for help when he heard a woman shouting. Ignoring the protest of the nearest cop, Mitch ducked under the tape and into the slightly clearer space of the roped-off scene. He needed a better view of the bystanders on the street.
Hearing another shout, closer to a scream this time, he turned toward the sound. Julia and a woman with dark hair were being led away from the scene by two cops. They were nearly to Washington Park. Mitch sprinted down to block them.
“Hang on a second,” he called out. “You’ve got my girl there.”
The closest cop turned. “This isn’t your business.” He rested his free hand on his service weapon at his hip, his other hand gripping the arm of the woman who worked as a receptionist on Julia’s floor. She had tears in her eyes. “You can pick her up at the station in an hour.”
Mitch held his hands out at his sides. “I don’t want any trouble.” His gaze raked over Julia. She appeared fine, no tears, just fury in her green gaze.
He studied the men, recognizing them as the team who’d been with the stalker in the coffee shop earlier. What the hell was going on? He couldn’t get into a brawl with two armed cops, yet he couldn’t let them lead the women away. “Can’t you do witness interviews or whatever over there?” he asked, jerking his thumb back toward the scene.
“Go on and let us do our jobs.” Cop Two urged the party forward.
Having been to the gym with Julia twice, he knew she was grittier, tougher than the skirt and heels implied. Keeping his gaze on the man closest to him, he addressed Julia. “Do you believe these men are cops?”
“No.”
“Shut up.” Cop One gave Julia’s arm a hard jerk and shoved her along. Cop Two and the receptionist followed.
Julia protested with a flurry of legal terms Mitch had only heard in movies.
“Hey.” Mitch hurried forward, putting himself between the fake cops and the quieter end of the block. “Are they under arres
t?”
“Persons of interest,” Cop One claimed. “Out of the way.”
Mitch shook his head. “What a line. You don’t even have a cruiser down here,” he said. He advanced a step, halting when Cop Two drew his gun out of the holster. “Easy,” Mitch said. “I don’t know who gave you your orders, but these women are needed back there at the scene.”
“Just kneecap him,” the cop holding Julia muttered.
That put an end to his attempt at diplomacy. “Run!” Mitch lunged at the nearest man, driving his shoulder into the rib cage. The force carried them into the shadows of the trees lining the sidewalk.
He caught a glimpse of legs flying as the receptionist raced back toward the Marburg building screaming for help. With his hands full of fake cop, he could only hope Julia was right behind her.
Mitch hooked his foot around the other man’s ankle, causing him to stumble backward. Any second now, the second cop would leap into the fray to help his friend. Mitch pressed his momentary advantage, throwing a right hook into the man’s jaw, pleased when the man’s body slumped lifelessly.
Swiftly disarming the unconscious man, he rolled him over and dragged him a few feet until he could handcuff the man’s wrists around a tree. Then he turned, simultaneously relieved and alarmed to see why the second man hadn’t attacked. Julia held him frozen at her feet, his gun aimed at his chest.
“You okay there?” Mitch asked.
“Fine,” she snapped, her gaze locked on the fake cop. “What now?”
“Nicely done,” he admitted in the tone he reserved for keeping victims calm during a crisis. “You’ll have to tell me how you did that.” He walked over and took the impostor’s handcuffs off his belt. “Over here.”
The second impostor sat down as directed by Mitch, his eyes wide and wary as he tried to keep his distance from Julia. “We had our orders.”
“You’re not cops.”
“No,” the man admitted, his gaze darting toward the end of the block.
Mitch couldn’t see anything in that direction worth investigating. Right now his priority was getting Julia away from here and somewhere safe.
“Give me the gun,” he said to her when he had the second man handcuffed. She handed it to him and he breathed a little easier as he stepped between her and the impostors. With her eyes fierce and her stance strong, he would have believed anything about her murky past.
Hearing footsteps and labored breathing, Mitch put the guns down and turned with Julia to see another man in uniform jogging toward them with the receptionist in tow. “What the hell is this?” he asked.
“Good evening,” Mitch began, hands open and visible. “My friends were—”
“Galway?” The officer squinted, eyeing Mitch and then the guns. “You’re Samuel Galway’s boy, right?”
“Yes, sir.” Mitch extended his hand. “Call me Mitch.”
“Conway,” the officer said as they shook. “You sure do have the look of him.” Officer Conway slanted a glance at each of the women and winked. “His knack for admirers and trouble, too, apparently.”
Mitch laughed it off, hiding how deep that particular barb hurt. “No trouble. Just helping out a couple friends.”
Officer Conway eyed the weapons on the ground and the men cuffed to the tree before he radioed for backup. “Bethany gave me her version. Why don’t you tell me yours?”
A chill slid down his spine as Julia explained how they’d been separated from their coworkers shortly after telling the police what they’d seen upstairs.
Officer Conway took notes and contact information while another officer bagged the guns and hauled the impostors into a squad car. “The ladies are lucky you came along,” he said with a sigh. “We’ll find out what they were planning to do.” He handed each of them a business card. “Call me if anything else comes to mind.” He stuck out his hand to Mitch once more and gave it a firm shake. “I’m glad you were here to put a stop to this kind of nonsense. We have a hard enough time as it is.”
Mitch walked with Julia and Bethany back toward the growing cluster of bystanders. Her hand felt cool and small in his, as if the chill of the autumn night had taken root under her skin. He released her long enough to shrug out of his jacket and wrap it around her. He kept expecting her to go into shock or break down into adrenaline-infused tears. She did neither. If he didn’t get her out of here, away from so many factors he couldn’t control, he might be the one to break down. “We’re leaving,” he said at her ear.
“I need my purse and coat. My laptop,” she added, her gaze drifting over his shoulder to the stately limestone building behind him.
“You can get whatever you need at home. We’re leaving.”
“Mitch.” Her voice cracked on his name and she clamped her lips together.
“Are you hurt?” The paramedics should check her out. He looked around for the nearest ambulance. “This way.”
“St-stop. I’m fine.” Her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt.
He pulled her into his arms, drew her head to his shoulder. As much as he wanted to be strong for her, his knees were shaking. “That was too close.” If the stalker’s fake cops had succeeded...if he’d lost her to that bastard... He couldn’t let his thoughts drift far or he’d lose it and be of no help whatsoever.
Either the stalker and his pals had orchestrated all of this or he’d moved like lightning to capitalize on a golden opportunity. Mitch couldn’t stomach the grim thoughts of Julia’s fate if he’d been only five minutes later. Although the fake cops made it obvious, he should tell her what happened at the coffee shop, that the stalker wasn’t working alone. He couldn’t do it, not while the jerk was surely watching them. “We’re sitting ducks out here,” he said, struggling to regain his composure. “Let me protect you, Julia.”
She nodded, her chin bumping his shoulder. “Yes,” she whispered.
He zipped up his jacket and tucked her hands into the pockets. She didn’t resist. With his arm around her waist, she leaned into him as they walk the two blocks to her apartment building. At the elevator, he punched the call button with his free hand. “We’ll pack up what you need and you’ll move in with me. My brother will cover your rent.” He wasn’t taking no for an answer anymore.
“Okay,” she whispered with a tight nod.
Her complete lack of argument floored him, worried him more than any other response she might have given. “Take a breath. You’re not alone.” He kept her close as they rode the elevator to her floor.
In her apartment, she turned a slow circle, her eyes glazing over. The events of the past hour were swiftly catching up with her. She turned that green gaze on him and it took all his strength to hold his ground when he wanted to scoop her into his arms and tell her it would all work out. He could hold her, but he couldn’t lie to her.
“You think the stalker was trying to kidnap me,” she said, her voice thin. “You think he set all this up tonight.”
“That’s just one possible explanation.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. If she didn’t start packing, he would.
“I’ve had time to think of a few others.” She shrugged out of his jacket and returned it to him.
“Let’s save the theories until we talk to Grant. By the time we get over there, he’ll have some idea if the bomb threat was a hoax or not.”
“He hasn’t heard about the fake officers?”
“We’ll fill him in on every detail, I promise,” Mitch replied. “Now tell me how I can help you pack.”
She arched one auburn eyebrow with such incredulity he wanted to laugh. “I’ll manage,” she said. At the closet she pulled out a suitcase and a tote bag. “Where will I be sleeping?”
With me. He nearly blurted out the inappropriate answer. Oh, he wanted her body with an intensity that left his heart racing. Those chaste kisses and hugs for the sake of playing her new boyfriend were becoming far too tempting. Spending the nights on her floor, listening to her sleep, had him longing to hold her when she tos
sed and turned. He wanted to rub the tension out of her neck and shoulders after a long day. The woman wasn’t at all his type, with those perfectly tailored suits and her lofty career. Except when her guard was down at the gym, or when they shared lunch in the park and her eyes lit with fire to debate or agree with something he said. Then she seemed perfect.
The kicker was Julia didn’t seem to be affected by him at all. Oh, her eyes would flash with interest occasionally, then fade too quickly. His job was to protect her, to buffer her from the jerk pushing her to capitulate to his demands. She was in a tough situation, one wrong move away from needing to be rescued. Mitch had learned the hard way a rescue didn’t create the best foundation for a relationship.
“You’ll stay in my brother’s room,” he said at last. “He’ll pay the rent here and keep an eye on things.”
“That’s—” She cleared her throat and stepped away from the closet, stumbling back into the bed. She pushed her hands through her hair. “That’s great,” she said. “I know arguing is useless, especially after this fiasco.” Her hands fell to her lap and her shoulders drooped. “Can we just make sure I get a chance to thank your brother personally for uprooting himself on my behalf?”
“Sure.” Mitch suppressed the chuckle. The woman appreciated a good routine. He could respect it, since repeated training and drills kept a firefighter sharp.
She packed up in record time while he straightened the area where he’d been sleeping and stuffed the belongings he’d brought over back into his duffel. Still, she hesitated at the door. “I want to argue,” she admitted. “I feel like moving is admitting defeat.”
“Nothing of the kind,” Mitch replied. “We’re changing the rules midgame to work in our favor. It’s time your stalker learned he doesn’t have all the control.”
She gazed up at him, her chin angled and her eyes sparking with more of the familiar fight. “That’s an excellent assessment. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He meant to reach for her bags and found his hands sliding around her waist. She’d changed into trim jeans and a silky cream-colored sweater his callused hands would probably ruin.
