by Callie Croix
His voice cut off so suddenly she thought he must have hung up, but a split second later she heard him yelp. The clatter of his phone hitting the floor rang in her ears. Then he screamed. In fear. And pain.
The hair on her arms stood up. She listened in horror as grunts and the sickening sounds of flesh hitting flesh filled the line. David’s terrified screams raked down her spine, detonating in her skull like a bomb.
Becca blanched, her stomach pitching. With the sounds of his anguish and terror ringing in her ears, Becca ran for the bathroom. “Reid!” she cried as she threw the door open.
Standing beneath the spray, he whipped around at the alarm in her voice. “What?”
“It was David—they’re beating him!” She thrust the phone at him, heart racing frantically.
Reid shut off the water and grabbed it from her. His expression went blank with shock as he listened.
“I’m calling 911.” She grabbed the flash drive from her dresser, stuffing it into her front pocket as she ran from the room and tore downstairs, intending to grab the cordless phone in the kitchen. Even if she didn’t know David’s address, surely the dispatcher would be able to look his information up and get him help. Guilt swamped her. That last call had come in almost an hour ago. What if she was the only one who knew he’d been attacked and no one had come to help? He might be dead because she hadn’t answered.
Heading for the phone on the kitchen counter, she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. Stilling, she glanced over her shoulder and froze. She watched, paralyzed, as a shadow moved beyond the office doorway and materialized into a man’s silhouette.
Becca whirled around, a scream trapped in her throat. The intruder’s broad shoulders all but filled the doorframe, blocking the light from the transom windows flanking the front door.
Blind terror stole through her. Her eyes locked on the deadly black gun in his grip. Tearing her gaze away, she looked up into his pale blue eyes. A distant part of her brain flashed back to last night, when that car had pulled up beside them. He was the passenger. There was no doubt.
She couldn’t move. Could barely breathe, her heart slammed so hard.
He waved the muzzle of the gun at her. “Give it to me,” he ordered quietly.
She stared back at him in disbelief, trying to process what was happening.
“Give me the flash drive,” he growled menacingly, aiming the pistol at her chest.
All her attention fixed on the black hole at the end of the barrel. The sickening realization penetrated that he would actually kill her over the flash drive. She would not die because of this. Becca pulled it out of her pocket. Her fingers twitched as she ordered her arm to lift so she could hand it over. Something stopped her. What if she handed it to him and he shot her anyway? She’d seen on a news piece about what to do during a mugging. Throw whatever the person was after as far away from you as possible, and run like hell.
Without hesitation, Becca wheeled around and hurled the flash drive across the other side of the living room with all her might, praying it would buy her time to escape. It hit the opposite wall with a thud as she turned on her heel and lunged for the staircase, every instinct ordering her to get away. On rubbery legs she tore up the stairs, screaming Reid’s name in warning.
Behind her she distantly heard a muffled curse and the intruder’s pounding footsteps as he retrieved the flash drive.
“Reid!” she yelled again, his name ripped from her tight throat. Her heart felt like it might explode.
She was only on the fourth step when Reid burst through the master bedroom door. Fully dressed and wearing a frighteningly cold expression, he raced past her with a pistol in his hands.
She instinctively flattened herself against the wall as he flew past, torn between the drive to run and fear for his life. “No, he’s got a gun!” she shouted desperately, her shaking knees threatening to give way. Ignoring her warning, Reid raced through the kitchen. Legs wobbling, she followed as fast as her uncooperative muscles would carry her.
The back door slammed open. She only caught a glimpse of Reid as he disappeared through it in pursuit. Oh God, what if he got shot going after that guy?
Forcing back the debilitating fear gripping her, Becca snatched the phone from its base and ran after him in her bare feet.
* * *
Carter sprinted headlong across the slippery grass in the backyard, cursing himself for pausing to shove his feet back into his shoes. That decision had cost him precious seconds and now things were turning ugly. That big bastard was pounding after him, eating up the distance like an Olympic sprinter. Carter could hear his pursuer’s every step, coming closer and closer no matter how hard he ran. And Carter was fucking fast.
He leaped up and caught the top of the wooden privacy fence, swinging up and dropping over the other side. The guy was already less than ten steps behind him, vaulting the eight-foot fence like it was nothing more bothersome than a speed bump. Who the fuck was he? A cop?
His shitty-ass luck that he’d break into a house with a pissed-off cop in it.
He tore through the next yard and cut between two houses to a footpath. His shoes thudded on the damp pavement. He could already feel the prolonged sprint starting to take its toll. But he didn’t dare slow down. All he had to do was maintain his lead a few more blocks. Kevin would be waiting at the prearranged pick-up spot and get him the hell away from here.
The man was close enough now that Carter could hear him breathing. The hair on his nape prickled. He couldn’t get caught. With his long rap sheet, this latest incident would land him in jail. No way could he handle that.
The gun pressed cold and hard against his spine. Carter didn’t think the bastard chasing him would stop even if he drew his weapon on him. Given his obvious training, it might just get Carter killed. If Carter shot first and hit him, chances were he still wouldn’t get away. Assault with a deadly weapon was a charge that even his grandfather—a former D.A. who still carried a lot of weight in Virginia’s legal world—couldn’t make go away.
You want to go to jail for real?
He risked a glance over his shoulder. The big bastard was even closer, only a couple steps behind. Carter had to do something. He hesitated only a moment before reaching back for his pistol, fumbling to grab the grip from his waistband while he ran.
That tiny shift in momentum slowed his stride enough to cost him the precious lead he’d held. Only steps from the corner where Kevin was supposed to meet him, his pursuer plowed into his back with the force of a Mack truck. They hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud that knocked him senseless for an instant. Carter’s weapon went flying, clattering across the wet sidewalk as he lay sprawled face-first on the road.
Shaking off the impact, he frantically tried to throw the big bastard off him, but the guy was built like a fucking tank. Carter snarled as the guy grabbed his hands and wrenched his arms back, damn near popping his shoulder joints from the sockets. Yowling in rage and pain, he could only flop around a little when he was pinned face-down on the cold pavement, his arms held in a painful, unbreakable grip. Shit, shit, shit.
“Move again and I’ll break your fucking arms.”
Carter had no doubt he would do it. Reluctantly going still, he bit back a sharp retort and fought back the dizzying wave of fear threatening to take him under. He was in so much shit. No way he was getting out of this one. He was going to wind up locked in a cell, spending every day trying to avoid being beaten and raped.
The throaty roar of a car engine started up nearby. He raised and turned his head a fraction to see Kevin’s black muscle car parked just down the street. For a moment, hope flared. Then Kevin hit the gas and peeled the car around in a hasty U-turn before squealing away, leaving only the scent of burning rubber behind him.
His heart sank.
Abandoned
to face the consequences alone—for now—Carter swallowed as the bitter taste of fear coated his mouth.
* * *
The discipline Reid’s training had drummed into him was the only thing that stopped him from snapping the asshole’s arms as he pinned him flat to the ground.
“Who the fuck are you?” he snarled, shifting his grip to frisk him with one hand. No ID on him, but there was a phone in his back hip pocket and a small, hard lump in his right front pocket. Reid pulled the flash drive out and set it on the ground beside them. Between it, the phone and the weapon, he hoped whatever forensic information they contained would give the cops plenty of evidence to nail this bastard.
The kid was maybe in his late teens or very early twenties. And though Reid could tell by his pale face he was clearly terrified, he wouldn’t answer. At least his weapon was safely out of arm’s reach, lying on the sidewalk a few yards away. Seeing it spiked Reid’s rage all over again. This guy had broken into Becca’s house and threatened her at gunpoint. That alone was enough justification for Reid to break a few of his bones. Her terrified screams had turned his blood to ice. For those few seconds before he’d seen her in the stairwell he’d thought for sure she’d been hurt, maybe dying.
Shoving the anger aside, he held the kid’s arms behind his back in a brutal grip, the angle awkward enough to hurt like hell. He considered yanking him to his feet and frog-marching him to the nearest house, but a few people were already coming out onto the street, watching in concern.
Reid met one man’s shocked gaze. “Call the cops,” he called out.
The man nodded and hurried inside.
“Fuck,” the kid muttered under his breath, lying his cheek down against the pavement in defeat.
Yeah, not so brave now that his buddy had left him behind. “Why did you break into the house?” Reid demanded, giving the guy’s arms a little shove that made him howl and bow upward in a futile effort to relieve the pressure.
“Not. Saying. Anything,” he panted through gritted teeth.
The kid had obviously been arrested before and knew how to play the game. It only disgusted Reid more. This whole situation was fucked up. “Just so you know, if you’d drawn that SIG on me, you’d be dead right now.” Reid would have shot him without hesitation the instant the kid’s weapon had cleared his waistband. And what a shit storm that would have caused for him and his career.
The kid stonewalled him, staring across the street.
Cursing silently, Reid had no choice but to hold him in place and wait for the cops.
“Reid!”
He looked over his shoulder to see Becca trotting toward him bare-footed with a phone clenched in her white-knuckled hand. Her face was pale, her chest heaving from either fear or the run, and her jeans were torn along the inside of one leg as though she’d snagged them on something. Jesus, had she scaled the fences trying to follow him?
“Are you okay?” she asked. Her anxious eyes scanned the length of him before she darted a frightened glance at the man Reid pinned to the ground.
“I’m fine. You?”
She gave a shaky nod and stayed where she was, obviously not wanting to get too close. Not that Reid blamed her. “He was the passenger in the car that hit us last night,” she said in a rough voice.
Reid’s hands tightened around the guy’s wrists. He’d wondered about this being connected to the crash. Part of him had already been certain of it because it was just too much of a coincidence otherwise. Hearing it from Becca was another thing entirely. He could kill the bastard for the part he’d played in the crash last night. “You pathetic son of a bitch,” he growled at him. He had to push out a slow, deep breath to regain control before he dared look at Becca again.
She glanced down at the phone in her hand with a kind of blank expression, as though she’d forgotten she was holding it. “I…I’m too far away from the house. It won’t work,” she said apologetically, her voice much too hoarse for his liking.
Shit, she was scared to death, yet she’d run after him all the way here despite the danger, just to make sure he was okay. “Bec, it’s fine. Don’t worry, it’s all under control now.” He knew the driver wouldn’t be coming back for his buddy.
Right on cue, the man across the street stepped onto his front step. “The police are on the way. Should be here within a minute or two.”
Reid nodded. “Thanks.”
“Let me up,” the kid snapped.
“Shut up and lie still,” Reid ground out, upping the pressure on his wrists. The kid blanched and froze.
When Reid looked up at Becca again, she’d wrapped her arms around herself and was staring with an almost haunted expression at the man who’d held her at gunpoint. He wanted to hold her so badly his muscles were rigid. “Bec, go home and lock the door behind you, then set the alarm.” Why the fuck hadn’t he insisted they set the alarm last night? This would never have happened. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Meeting his gaze, she shook her head slightly. It made him even angrier to know she was afraid to be alone in her own house because of this piece of shit he held, but maybe it was better this way. There was at least one other person involved in all of this. Until the situation was resolved, Reid would feel safer if Becca stayed close to him.
She licked her lips, her gaze moving to the flash drive lying beside them. “That’s what he wanted. It’s why they ran David and me off the road, and why they attacked him this morning. Did you kill him for it?” she demanded, a quiver in her voice as she stared holes through the man beneath him.
The guy didn’t answer, just kept his gaze on the trees lining the street as though he hadn’t heard her.
But Reid had, and he wasn’t happy. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You knew about it last night but didn’t say anything?”
“No. I mean, David sent me a file a few days ago that I unencrypted for him. He told me last night he’d found incriminating evidence on it. About work.” She glanced uneasily at the suspect, as though afraid of saying too much. “Last night he asked me not to tell the police yet until we had more time to talk, and I was going to tell you after breakfast, but…”
But he’d been too busy making love to her, and when she’d finally gone downstairs, she’d run right into this asshole.
Fuck. Exactly what in hell was going on, and how deep was Becca into this mess? Tightening his jaw, Reid looked away, relieved when he finally heard the distant sound of approaching sirens.
Within a minute the police were there to take over. They cuffed the prisoner and shoved him none too gently into the back of a squad car while someone disarmed then questioned Reid. After telling them what he knew and adding details of Becca’s run-in last night, he gave the cops the make of the car he’d seen and its license plate. As soon as the initial questioning was done, he went to Becca, where she stood talking to another cop. Giving him the details she should have divulged last night.
She looked up when Reid approached, and the relief on her face made his gut clench. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and lock her up someplace where no one could find her. The thought of anyone trying to harm her made him crazy.
He listened as she spilled everything she knew about the flash drive, including how it incriminated at least one of the partners at the investment firm where she worked. One of the largest in the country. It sounded like a big deal too. Reid was no financial wizard, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out just how desperate that partner would be to keep the information a secret and silence anyone with access to it. His skin crawled at the realization of just how much danger Becca had inadvertently placed herself in by opening that file. And he was even angrier at David for putting her in harm’s way by giving her the flash drive yesterday.
“I recognized him as the passenger as soon as I saw him,” she was saying to the cop. “I should have said
something sooner, I know, but I wasn’t positive it was connected and I was hoping my gut was wrong…” She bit her lip, looked away as she blinked really fast.
Unable to stand there and watch her tear herself up with guilt, Reid reached for her. Without a word she went into his arms and pressed tight to him, burying her face against his neck.
“I was scared he’d shoot you,” she admitted in a whisper, a shudder wracking her body.
Reid hugged her close and shook his head, still stunned that she’d chased after him in a bid to make sure he was safe. “Lucky for him, he didn’t.”
Frowning, she pulled her head back. “They won’t tell me anything about David. I told them what happened to him and they said they couldn’t comment.”
He stroked a hand over her hair, damp from the drizzle. More than anything he wanted to take her someplace safe and quiet, get her warm and dry. No doubt she felt violated now, worried to go back to her house. He spoke to the cop she’d been talking to. “She’s cold and she’s been through a lot. Can I take her home now?”
The officer nodded. “I’ll give you guys a lift. Forensics and the detectives will be over soon anyhow.”
Reid held her hand on the way to her place, massaging her cold, stiff fingers. More police cars were already there when they arrived. Officers had done a sweep to ensure the house was secure, and a forensics team was en route to gather evidence.
Once they were allowed inside, Reid followed Becca upstairs, where she peeled off her ruined jeans in her closet. Her feet had to be raw too. “Are you hurt?” he asked softly, checking for blood.
“Just a few scratches,” she answered, checking her inner thigh. He noticed several long welts marring her smooth skin. “The top of that second fence got me.”
He shook his head. “What were you thinking, climbing the damn fences, anyway?”
She didn’t look up at him. “He had a gun. I was afraid you were going to get shot and I didn’t want to lose sight of you.”
