Risky bargain, p.8
Risky Bargain, page 8
"Could you do something for me, Kat? Could you go to Audrey's apartment and bring back her photo album? She keeps it in her bedroom. It has a blue cover. She usually brings it in once or twice a week, and we look through it together. It will make me feel closer to her—until she gets back."
The emotion in Evelyn's voice was breaking her heart. For Evelyn, Audrey was her entire world. Kat had to find her. She had to bring Audrey back to her mother. She had always envied Audrey's relationship with her mom. It was the kind of mother-daughter bond she had only ever been able to dream about, and she wanted to keep it alive.
"I can do that," she said. "I have Audrey's spare key."
"Oh, good. And maybe bring me the quilt on Audrey's bed? I made it for her, and I'd love to have it here until I can give it back to her."
"I'll bring you the quilt and the photo album."
"You're a sweet girl, Kat. Your mother was lucky."
She drew in a short breath. "I don't think she thought so."
Evelyn gave her a sorrowful look. "Oh, I'm sorry. Audrey said you had a tough childhood. I didn't mean to upset you."
"You didn't. Audrey is lucky to have had you as a mom."
"We've always had each other. After my youngest daughter died, Audrey took care of me. We became incredibly close." Evelyn's lips tightened. "I feel like she's in trouble. She said that someone at work was suffering, and she needed to help him. Now she's gone."
She was surprised that Audrey had talked about her work with her mother. "Did she mention the person's name? Was it Sean?"
"Oh, I don't remember. I think she said he was afraid, and he didn't have anyone to help him. It was complicated, and she couldn't explain, but she needed to find out what was going on."
Evelyn wasn't telling her anything new, although she had added that Audrey's patient was afraid, which lent an element of danger to Audrey's conversation with Cabot, as well as whatever was happening at the company. "Don't worry about any of it," she told Evelyn. "I'll be back as soon as I can with the album and the quilt. If I can't get back before visiting hours are over, I'll come tomorrow."
"Thank you, Kat. You've made me feel better."
"I'm so glad. Audrey will be fine." She felt the need to say it, maybe because she also needed to believe it.
After leaving the assisted living facility, she drove back to Audrey's house to get the album and the quilt. She was a little disappointed that she had gotten no updates from Lucas. He'd promised to fill her in, but she probably shouldn't have believed that. He was a federal agent, after all, which was just another version of a cop. He hadn't been helping her for any other reason than she'd given him a lead to follow. Now that she had nothing new to offer, he was done.
She let out a sigh at that disheartening thought. Squaring her shoulders, she told herself to get over it. She was used to disappointment. Dwelling on that emotion had never gotten her anywhere. She needed to focus on the real problem in front of her—finding her friend.
When she arrived at Audrey's building, she headed straight to the bedroom. After they'd found Sean's business card, they had stopped looking in jacket pockets. But it had occurred to her since then that Audrey was always stuffing things in her pockets. She'd hated carrying a bag. Maybe she'd left another clue behind.
Setting her bag on the floor, she rifled through the rest of the coats hanging in the bedroom closet, frowning as she only discovered a couple of hair ties, some tissue, and a lipstick. So much for her brilliant idea. This had been a waste of time. Then she heard a noise, and she froze. It sounded like the front door had opened.
Her heart stopped. Was it like last night? Was someone about to come in shooting?
She flipped off the closet light and quietly shut the door. Her heart was racing a mile a minute. She wanted to hide somewhere, but Audrey's closet was too organized. The sound of footsteps made her feel almost dizzy with panic. She pulled out her phone, not sure what she could do with it now. She looked through the slats in the door, almost gasping when a figure came into the bedroom.
For a second, hope ran through her. Maybe Audrey had come home. But it wasn't Audrey. The figure was much taller. It was a man. His back was to her, but she could see that he was dressed in tan camo pants and a dark-gray sweatshirt, with a beige baseball hat on his head. When he turned his head, she caught a glimpse of his face, but she didn't recognize him.
She pulled her phone out of her bag and took several pics. She sent them to Lucas with a quick text: This guy is searching Audrey's apartment.
She watched through the slats for another few minutes. The man was methodically going through Audrey's desk now. What the hell was he looking for?
A text came in from Lucas: OMW.
He was on his way. She was relieved to know that, but she hoped the man would be gone by then. She slipped her phone into her back pocket. When she looked through the slat again, she saw the man turn toward the closet.
Had he heard her? Or was the closet just next on the search list?
Of course, he was going to look in the closet, and he was going to find her.
He took one step, then paused, taking out his phone. She hadn't heard it ring, but it must have vibrated. He stopped to text.
While he did that, she looked around the closet for something to defend herself with. She couldn't let him shoot her without trying to fight back. Spying Audrey's softball bag, she quickly scurried toward it, grabbing the bat. Then she forced herself to move toward the door, even though it went against every panicked thought in her head. She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. But those weren't options.
Her breath came short and fast. She took another peek through the door. The man was still texting. Maybe whoever he was talking to would tell him to leave. Then she wouldn't have to fight for her life, because she didn't like her odds.
But how many times had she been called a survivor?
Too many to count. She steeled her shoulders. She could fight. There was no other option.
Chapter Seven
Kat held her breath for what seemed like forever. The man had stopped texting, and now he was walking toward the closet. She backed up, tightening her grip on the bat, ready to swing as soon as the door opened.
She heard the click. Her heart raced. Blood pounded through her veins.
As the door moved outward, she stepped forward and swung the bat as hard as she could, connecting with his rib cage. The man grunted in pain as he doubled over. She hit him once more with the bat, aiming for his head but hitting his shoulders. Then she dropped the bat and ran.
She made it through the bedroom, the living room…
She could hear him swearing as she hit the front door. He was coming after her. She knew it. She ran into the hall and down the stairs. She didn't know how much of a head start she had, but it wasn't much.
When she hit the lobby, she sped up, crashing through the front door. She raced toward the street.
The building door banged open. Taking a quick look behind her, she saw the guy closing in on her. He raised his gun, and she dove behind the front of a nearby car as the shot went off. The car window shattered, showering glass on her head and shoulders. She scrambled to the other side of the car, tripping over her own feet. She went down hard on one ankle as another shot took out a second window.
A dog barked. She heard someone scream. Hopefully, they were calling 911, but she didn't think she had that much time. Then a car came flying down the street, the lights sweeping across her. It came to a squealing stop just feet away. A man jumped out with his own weapon drawn.
It was Lucas! As gunfire exploded between them, sirens rang through the night. The gunman ran into the trees that lined a nearby parking lot.
Lucas came toward her. "Were you hit?"
"No. I'm okay."
"Stay here," he said, running after the shooter.
As two police cars pulled up, she got to her feet, wincing at the pain in her left ankle. She'd clearly twisted it, but that fact paled compared to the realization that she'd narrowly escaped death once more. Lucas had saved her life.
A young male police officer approached her. "Ma'am. Are you hurt?"
"Just a twisted ankle. The shooter went through the trees."
"Do you know him? What happened?"
"He broke into my friend's apartment. I escaped, but he came after me and started shooting. Then Agent Raines came and shot back at him. He ran that way, and Agent Raines followed."
"Agent Raines?" the officer echoed.
"FBI. He's investigating another case that this might be tied to. There he is now." She tipped her head toward Lucas, who had come back alone. The gunman had gotten away, probably because Lucas had stopped to check on her. That split second might have made the difference.
As Lucas talked to the officer, she sat down on the curb, careful to avoid the shards of glass. She saw several neighbors coming out of their apartment buildings now that the shots had ended, but the police officers were holding them back. Several minutes later, Lucas came over to her. "Let's go inside. I want to see what Audrey's apartment looks like."
"Okay." She grimaced as she got to her feet.
"You're hurt," he said with a frown. "I didn't realize."
"I tripped. It could have been worse."
He met her gaze. "It could have been. I told you to stop investigating. What were you doing here?"
"I was getting something for Evelyn—Audrey's mother. I went to see her earlier, and she wanted a quilt and a photo album to remind her of Audrey. I was in the closet when I heard someone come into the apartment. I turned off the light and shut the doors, but I could see the guy going through Audrey's dresser and desk, so I took his photo."
"Smart thinking. How did you get away?" he asked, as they walked toward the building.
"I realized he would eventually get to the closet. I saw Audrey's softball bag. I grabbed the bat and when he opened the door, I hit him with it. He went down, but he didn't stay down. I had just enough time to get away."
Admiration lit up his gaze. "You think very quickly on your feet."
"I'm a survivor."
"You certainly seem to be."
"Thanks for coming so fast, Lucas. I owe you my life."
"Luckily, I was in the car and not too far away."
"Is there any news?"
"No. You're the one with all the news."
They took the elevator to Audrey's floor, and as she stepped into the hallway, Lucas's arm came around her shoulders.
"Let me help you," he said.
She should say no, but it felt good to lean on him. It actually felt better than good. It had been a long time since anyone had wanted to hold her up.
When they got into the apartment, there were two police officers looking around. While Lucas spoke to them, she went into the bedroom. The photo album was in a bookcase in Audrey's room and the quilt was on the bed. She grabbed the photo album, retrieved her bag from the closet, and sat down on the bed, taking a long, deep breath.
A short time later, she heard the voices fade away, and then Lucas came into the room.
"Are the police gone?" she asked.
"They're working the scene in front of the building where the shots were fired. What else can you tell me about the shooter?"
"The photo I sent you was the best view I got of him. I don't think I even looked at him when I swung the bat. When I got outside, I was just trying to get away."
He stared back at her with an odd expression in his eyes.
"What?" she asked. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking…you should probably get ice on that ankle. Or I should get you to the ER."
She didn't believe that was what he'd been thinking at all. "I don't want to go to the hospital. I already spent an hour in an icky-smelling facility today when I went to visit Evelyn."
"Icky-smelling?"
"You know what I mean. I'll just go home and ice."
"I can give you a ride home."
"But then my car will be here, and I'll need it at some point. Can you just help me carry this stuff to my car?"
"Sure. But I am going to follow you home."
"You don't need to do that. I'll be fine."
"All evidence to the contrary," he said dryly.
"Don't you need to look for the person who broke in here?"
"My team is working on that photo you sent. Hopefully, we'll have an ID soon." He extended his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, she took it.
The heat between them was sudden, intense, and not really that unexpected. It had been simmering since they first met. As he pulled her to her feet, she found herself looking at his solid, broad chest, and her body tingled all over. She slowly raised her gaze to his and saw the same awareness in a pair of beautiful green eyes that shimmered with gold.
She didn't know how long they stared at each other; she just knew it was too long.
Lucas's lips tightened, which only drew her attention to his mouth, his full, sexy lips. She wanted to kiss him. She could feel the pull between them, especially when his fingers tightened around hers.
"This is…" He didn't finish his statement. And whatever battle he was fighting in his head was suddenly over. He pulled her closer and lowered his head.
The touch of his hand had been hot, but the kiss was even hotter. Lucas took her mouth with a cocky possessiveness that made her nerves tingle and her lips part. As he took the kiss deeper, everything else faded away. It was just her and him. They were on an island of heat, and she wanted to stay there as long as possible.
The sound of voices finally broke through. Lucas stepped back, his breath coming hard, like he'd just run ten miles. She felt the same breathless sensation, but she still wanted to go back for more.
Unfortunately, Lucas was backing away. When he got to the door, he turned and walked into the living room. She heard him talking to the police once more. She sank down on the mattress.
She didn't know what the hell had just happened, but she'd liked it. She'd liked it way too much. It was crazy. Lucas was a good-looking man and he kissed like a dream, but he was a federal agent. He was law enforcement. She couldn't trust him. Could she?
She wanted to trust him. He'd saved her life. He was trying to help her. Sure, maybe it was just because Audrey's disappearance might lead to Spike Cabot, and Spike was the primary concern, but he'd come when she'd sent him the text, and that had felt really good.
But he hadn't come for her; it was all about the case. She couldn't let herself forget that. The spontaneous, impulsive kiss had probably just been a reaction to all the drama. There was no more to it than that. One thing was clear, she shouldn't kiss him again.
She felt a new resolve settle within her, but as soon as Lucas returned, that resolve faded away. He was just so damn sexy. If he wanted to kiss her again, was she really going to say no?
"The police have finished investigating the scene outside," he told her. "Are you ready to go?"
She nodded and stood up once more, but he was blocking the door, and he wasn't moving. She shivered, even though she didn't think the look in his eyes meant he wanted to kiss her again.
"I feel like I should apologize," he said. "That was…unprofessional."
"Is that all it was?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.
His green eyes glittered. "No. It was more than that. But it can't happen again."
"I agree."
"You do?"
Was that a twinge of disappointment she heard in his voice? Or was she just hearing what she wanted to hear? She squared her shoulders. "Yes."
He frowned. "Did I read you wrong? I thought you wanted—"
"You didn't read me wrong, but like you said, it shouldn't happen again."
"I know why it can't happen for me, because I'm working this case, and you're a witness, a victim."
"I'm not a victim." She bristled at the word. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time—twice. But I'm not a victim. And I don't get involved with men who are in law enforcement."
"We're back to that."
"We are, and now I'd like to go home. Would you mind carrying the photo album?"
She hobbled past him with the quilt in her arms while he grabbed the album and followed her out of the apartment. She missed his arm around her, but she'd drawn a hard line between them, so she had to make it to her car on her own.
Lucas set the album on the backseat and then said, "I'll be right behind you."
She didn't answer, just pulled the door closed and let out a breath. The past few hours had been filled with rocketing emotions, and she felt suddenly exhausted. Her ankle ached as she drove home, but not enough that she couldn't manage the drive.
Along the way, she tried not to think about Lucas's scorching kiss, because that would get her nowhere. Instead, she focused on what had happened before that.
Who was that man who had broken into Audrey's apartment? And why? What had he been looking for?
The questions ran around and around in her head and by the time she arrived home, she felt even more tired. The sun had set when she parked in the carport and got out of her vehicle. There was a pretty, purplish tint to the twilight sky. While the temp had dropped into the seventies, it was still warm. It would have felt like a beautiful night if her mind wasn't in emotional turmoil.
Lucas jogged down the street from where he'd parked.
"You don't have to walk me up," she told him.
"We need to talk."
She didn't really want to talk to him right now, but he was already grabbing the photo album, so she didn't have a choice.
When she got into her apartment, she headed straight to the couch and sat down, propping her leg up on the coffee table. She pulled up the hem of her jeans and saw that her ankle was a bit swollen, but it didn't look too awful.
Lucas had headed into the kitchen, and she could hear him shoveling ice, so she pulled off her shoe and by the time she'd done that, he was at her side, putting a bag of ice over her ankle.
She winced at the sudden cold, even though she knew the ice would help the swelling go down.
