On the Scent

by Angela Campbell

  What the hell? Getting away from him obviously wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped. And why did she feel so guilty about calling one of his competitors?

  “Okay.” She sighed and allowed the forty-pound dog to lead the way. As soon as Costello realized she wasn’t holding him back, he stopped trying to drag her behind him like a ragdoll. Slowing her steps, Hannah spared a quick look at the disheveled man beside her.

  A morning beard darkened his chin, and his hair was ruffled.

  Whew. He was hot. Sexy.

  Trouble.

  “Are you going to tell me why you spent the night in my driveway?” She focused on Costello, who’d slowed down and was backing up to do his morning business on her neighbor’s lawn. Hannah snatched a small bag out of her pocket and waited for the dog to finish, and the man to answer.

  Zach scanned the street in front of them with hawk-eye precision. “Someone was following you yesterday. Last night your house was being watched.”

  Worry zinged through her brain until she shook herself free of the useless emotion. Had someone been following her, or had Zach invented it as a convenient excuse to scare her into retaining his services? She opted to believe the second, if only because the alternative was too terrifying.

  She turned to him and forced a smile. “Thank you for staying, but I did make it clear your services aren’t required.”

  “I’m not kidding, Hannah.”

  “Neither am I.”

  His fingers gripped her arm, forcing her to turn and look at him. “You could be in real danger. Let me help you.”

  “How do you know my house was being watched?” Costello hauled on the leash, demanding to be walked, so she gave in and hoped Zach would follow. “Did you actually see someone? What did they look like?”

  He ran a hand through his hair as he casually matched her pace. His jaw clenched. “I didn’t see anyone. I felt it.”

  “Like a psychic thing?”

  He shook his head. “Call it a gut reaction. I’ve been doing this a long time. Trust me, I know when my instincts are dead on, and I know when I’m being watched.”

  Hannah had no idea how his psychic abilities worked—or if he was even psychic, for that matter—but she could hear the sincerity in his voice.

  His fingers gripped her upper arm tight again, bringing her to another stop. His wide-eyed expression was serious—and a little alarming. “Who’s watching the cat?”

  “No one,” she admitted. “I—” She stopped her words when Zach yanked the lanyard from her hand and sprinted back the way they came. Costello bounded after him, jerking her arm almost out of its socket and nearly dragging her to the ground. “Wait a minute!”

  Then she remembered Zach’s question, and she ran like hell to catch up to him, too.

  His gut churned in a familiar way that told Zach something bad was about to happen. He might not be psychic, but he hadn’t been lying when he told Hannah his instincts rarely led him wrong.

  A few minutes ago, the thought to trigger that gut churning had been, the damn cat is a sitting duck right now.

  He didn’t see anything suspicious as he hurried up the steps to Hannah’s house, but he still opened the front door carefully.

  The house was eerily quiet. He scanned the room and saw nothing unusual—not even the cat. He took a step inside, and that’s when it hit him. The pungent smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, as if someone who smoked often had been in the room.

  “What on earth?” Hannah said, coming up behind him fast.

  The dog’s paws shoved against the back of his knees, and Zach almost fell face-first into the carpet. He stumbled forward and caught himself against the wall as Costello raced around him and bounced into the room.

  He was gonna kill that damn dog.

  He held out an arm to prevent Hannah from moving further inside and asked in a whisper, “Do you smoke?” But he already knew the answer.

  “No.”

  The look of distaste on her face turned to something else as her nostrils flared and caught the same scent his had. She paled, and her fingers gripped the leather jacket covering his arm.

  “Grab your cell phone and call the police. Go to a neighbor’s house and wait on their porch.” He pulled away from her and inched forward, wishing like hell he was carrying his gun or some other weapon. A single vase sat on the bookshelf, so he grabbed it, glad to feel that it was heavy and could do some damage if needed. His attention caught on Costello, who sniffed the air and headed down the hall toward what Zach assumed were the bedrooms. He kept a good pace behind the dog, just in case.

  The mutt growled and dashed into the open doorway of one of the rooms. Zach waited for an intruder to run out, but then the dog’s whimper ripped the silence.

  “Dammit.” He moved to charge forward and—

  Someone rushed him from the side. Zach had enough time to see the bat swinging toward him before it felt like his brain exploded inside his skull. His teeth rattled as he hit the floor. The metallic taste of blood coated his tongue as everything threatened to fade to black.

  Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

  The strange sound brought him back toward consciousness. Zach swallowed, tasted his own blood and nearly gagged. He blinked and saw a furry black and white cat standing too close to his face, licking its paw over and over again. He jerked sideways in surprise, making stars swim in his vision and a groan escape his mouth.

  What the hell is his problem? It’s not like I did this to him.

  The thought—more like a strong feeling than words—seemed oddly foreign to Zach. He felt pressure on his leg and looked down to see the damn dog going to town with a fury.

  Gotta help him. Gotta help him. Gotta show him who’s boss. Gotta help him.

  Again with the strange thought-feeling. Zach groaned and dropped his head back down, jarred his teeth.

  He heard more licking and turned his head to see the cat’s tongue still taking long swipes at its paw.

  Dirty paw.

  Hungry.

  When’s dinner?

  Was the cat actually talking or—?

  “Gnn-mmmm,” Zach groaned.

  A second later, black engulfed him.

  He should have come out by now.

  Hannah shifted her weight from foot to foot as she debated going inside. She’d done as Zachary asked and called the police and was still holding on the line with the dispatcher, who annoyingly kept asking her for updates she couldn’t give. She couldn’t see or hear anything from where she stood on her absent neighbor’s front porch.

  “It will just be a few more minutes,” the woman on the other end kept saying.

  It had already been seven minutes.

  “Screw this,” she told the dispatcher. “I’m going inside.”

  “I wouldn’t advise that, Miss Dawson. Stay—” The voice ended when Hannah moved forward and a double beep informed her she’d lost the call. Well, crap. She shoved the phone in her pocket and hurried across her lawn.

  The smell of cigarette smoke wasn’t as strong as it had been when she’d stepped inside earlier. She listened, heard absolutely nothing aside from the tick-tock of the clock above the mantle, and slowly moved forward.

  She tried to remember where she’d put the baseball bat she’d been keeping close for comfort’s sake. Bedroom. Damn. What else could she use for a weapon? Another vase? They were in a box somewhere. She really needed to unpack soon.

  “Mreow.”

  The cat’s call echoed through the living room seconds before Abbot’s black and white body sauntered into view. He sat down, looked at her and meowed again. Then he rolled onto his side and gave her a sleepy-eyed look.

  “Zach?” Her voice sounded loud, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of the silence or because she’d spoken higher than she’d planned.

  Hannah hurried toward the cat, scooped him up and stared down the empty hallway.

  “Costello?” She whispered loudly.

  The dog’s he
ad peeked out of a doorway. His beady eyes met hers, he barked and then he disappeared with a bunny-hop motion back into the room.

  The curtains swayed in a breeze when she entered the area she had planned for an office. Her gaze landed on Zach’s motionless body in the floor. Costello was busy humping one of the private detective’s legs.

  “Costello. No!”

  Zach’s chest barely rose and fell on shallow breaths. Her nurse training kicked in, and she bent to check for a pulse, trying to find evidence of what had caused the injury. A trickle of blood was drying below his nose. His pulse was steady.

  “Zach, can you hear me?”

  A low groan rumbled through his chest.

  Abbot sat down on the other side of Zach’s head and seemed fascinated by Hannah’s actions as she used trembling fingers to lift his eyelids and check his pupil dilation. She reached for her phone, intending to dial 911 again, but the sound of a police car’s siren in the distance stilled her.

  She took a deep breath and caressed Zach’s face. I’m sorry. So sorry. Someone had been in her home again. Someone had done this to him. She felt so violated and scared and angry. Angry at herself for not listening to him earlier. He’d been right.

  The person doing this was dangerous, and worse, they didn’t seem likely to give up anytime soon.

  Chapter Four

  Sarah Taylor glared from across the room. “And why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?”

  Hannah shrank deeper into the corner of her new sofa and watched her best friend pace a line in the living room rug. Sarah’s ebony skin didn’t turn red in anger the way hers did, but Sarah had other tells Hannah had picked up on throughout the years. Hannah knew her usually calm and quiet best friend was livid.

  Well, at least she hadn’t brought one of her brothers with her. Then Hannah would be defending herself against two of the Taylors. Heaven help her.

  “I told you,” Hannah said. “I didn’t want to distract you from your schoolwork. You work a full-time job, and your mother is sick with cancer. The last thing you need to worry about is me.”

  “I know you didn’t say that Hannah Michelle Dawson.” Sarah stopped pacing and pointed an accusing finger at her. “You are practically my sister, and you know you can come stay with us. We could have been watching out for you.”

  Hannah grabbed the pillow beside her and hugged it. Batting her eyelashes, she feigned a proper British accent. “If you would be so polite as to grace me with your forgiveness, I’d be ever so grateful.” Sarah could never resist the British accent.

  “Don’t even try it.” Her friend’s thinned lips twitched as she held up a hand in warning and spun away.

  “Do you like crumpets?” Hannah batted her eyelashes. “I’ll make you crumpets if you forgive me.”

  Glancing back at the sofa, Sarah rolled her eyes and relented with a smile. “Fine.” She crossed her arms. “I forgive you, but only if you come stay with us.”

  Dropping the accent, Hannah groaned. “Come on, Sarah. You and I both know you and your mom have this weird phobia about cats. That’s why Abbot is locked in the other room right now. I can’t bring him into your house. It wouldn’t be fair to any of you.”

  “I don’t understand why you don’t get rid of that thing anyway.” A feigned shudder jiggled Sarah’s shoulders. “Creepy-as-hell cat.”

  Gritting her teeth, Hannah moved to her feet. Every few minutes she felt the need to check on that so-called creepy-as-hell cat to make sure no one else had climbed in the window and tried to snatch him again.

  “Besides the fact I love and adore Abbot, you know why.” Hannah paused on her way to the bedroom to peek out the front window curtain. “Remember the money that paid off your mother’s medical bills? Remember that money I gave you to pay for this semester’s tuition? That’s why.”

  “Loaned me,” Sarah corrected, padding close behind her with Costello bringing up the rear. Hannah opened the bedroom door and spotted Abbot twisted in an unnatural kitty position in his fluffy bed, deep asleep.

  A sigh of relief escaped her parted lips as she closed the door.

  How was she ever going to get a decent night’s sleep again, with her constant guarding over the two animals in her care?

  “I’m gonna call Jeremy so he can come and stay with you.” Sarah pulled out her cell phone. “The boy’s crazy as hell, but he doesn’t mind cats or dogs.”

  The mention of Sarah’s youngest brother nearly tore a groan from Hannah. She grappled with her friend’s hand before Sarah could complete the dial. “Jeremy is in high school.”

  “So?”

  “Sarah, I’m a 30-year-old single woman who just moved into this neighborhood.” She shook her head. “I love your brothers like my own, but all my new neighbors will see is that a 15-year-old boy keeps coming and going from my house. Awkward.” She let the word roll out in two syllables. “Besides, if anything happened to him, do you know what that would do to your mom?”

  “Ugh. You are such a party pooper.” Groaning, Sarah twirled, and her long, black hair swished around her shoulders. Her pretty features appeared drawn tight, and Hannah worried her friend hadn’t been taking care of herself very well. Lord knew she had plenty to cause her stress. Sarah plopped onto the sofa, arms crossed, her hazel eyes sparkling with determination. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

  Hannah closed her eyes and prayed for strength. She rarely won arguments with any of the Taylors, but she absolutely could not allow her friend to stay here. She refused to burden Sarah any more than she already was.

  “If you stay, we’ll both gain ten pounds from eating ice cream and get no sleep because we’ll be watching your DVDs of Downton Abbey all night. You, my friend, have exams coming up. Get your butt home and study.” Hannah moved toward the kitchen to grab a diet soda—maybe the caffeine would help keep her alert—and chewed her bottom lip as she came to terms with the decision she’d already made. “Besides, I’ve hired Zachary Collins’ agency for protection. There is no need for you or anyone else to stay here.”

  “Yeah, because they’re obviously doing a top-notch job so far.” Sarah snorted. “How old is that kid guarding your house anyway? Sixteen?”

  “E.J. is at least in his twenties, and he’s been nothing but professional.” Hannah closed the refrigerator and turned to face her friend. A zing of irritation on Zach’s behalf triggered her temper. “Zach refused to leave the other night because he thought I was being watched. If he hadn’t been here yesterday morning—” She didn’t like to think what could have happened. She waved a dismissive hand. “Besides, they moved me to a hotel last night and made sure the house was safe to come back to. They’ve been keeping us safe, Sarah.”

  Her friend held up her hand. “Fine, but don’t expect me to believe Zachary Collins is doing this out of the goodness of his heart. I’m sure he only sees dollar signs when he looks at you, Hannah.”

  “It’s not like that.” She frowned. “You don’t even know him.”

  “I’m just sayin’ be careful.” Sarah sprang up from the sofa and joined her at the kitchen island. Sarah leaned against it and wiggled her eyebrows. “So, what’s he like in person? I’ve only seen his show a few times.”

  “He’s…good. I think he’s good at what he does.”

  “Gay?”

  “Sarah.” Hannah couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice.

  “What? He was on TV. You have to wonder.”

  “I don’t think he’s gay.” Although she didn’t have much to base that on. Wishful thinking probably.

  Sarah’s smile grew lascivious. “Is he as hot as he seems on TV?”

  Hannah sighed dramatically. “Hotter. Much hotter.”

  Sarah snuck some pieces of popcorn from the bowl Hannah had left sitting there…had it been three days ago? Geesh. She really needed to clean. “What about the other bodyguards?”

  Hannah gave her a quick run-down of the men she’d met so far, and Sarah released a long breath, picked off one last pie
ce of popcorn and then pinned her with a look. “Promise me you’ll be careful with him.”

  “With Zach?”

  “You’re beautiful. You have millions of dollars at your disposal.” Sarah lifted her chin. “I don’t want to see you get into another situation like you did with Eric. That’s all.”

  Every muscle in Hannah’s body snapped into painful awareness at the name. Sarah had always had a tendency to jump to conclusions that made absolutely no sense, but how she could compare hiring Zachary Collins to protect her with what had happened with Eric was beyond comprehension. “You’re nuts. The two situations are nothing alike.”

  Sarah arched a brow. “He’s gorgeous and exactly your type. I don’t want him to take advantage of you because he wants your money. You’ve got to think about things like this now, Hannah. People are going to try to use you.”

  Hannah scoffed. She should have never told Sarah that Zach was even hotter in person. “I’m not stupid, you know. I know I have to be careful.” She ticked off points with her finger. “I checked with the Better Business Bureau. No unresolved complaints against them. I had Mr. Russell check to make sure they were properly licensed.” Ellie’s attorney—now her attorney—had been a godsend. “And Brian gave me references from some of their past clients. I called and confirmed that these guys know what they’re doing.”

  They stared at each other for several seconds.

  “Alright then.” Her friend heaved a reluctant sigh of surrender and reached for her purse. “If you didn’t have a bigger, stronger bodyguard coming to take over for that puny guy on the porch, my rear would be planted on that sofa all night.”

  “E.J. is hardly puny.”

  Another snort. “He looks like a thug.”

  “Sarah.”

  Sarah threw up a hand. “Just sayin’. Know what he said to me when I walked up?”

  Hannah shrugged.

  “He got out of his car, ran over to me and said—” Sarah mimicked a gangsta’s voice and gave Hannah a salacious look up and down her body. “‘How ya doin’, baby? Come ’ere often?’” She returned to her normal voice and stance. “Like I said. He’s how old? Sixteen? My youngest brother doesn’t act that way.”