Burn on the Western Slope (Crimson Romance) (18 page)

She slumped against the door, her knees wobbling, her breath heavy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s in my condo,” she blurted through wheezing breaths. It wasn’t the running that had her gasping. Fear and memories of dead bodies, empty eyes, and white mummies … “I heard a noise.” Her head felt heavy against the wall. She leaned one hand on her knees while trying to keep her towel intact.

Garret reached for his waist and pulled out a gun. He lunged for the door.

“Oh God,” she said, sliding further down the wall. Where did that come from? Since when did he start carrying a gun?

“What did you hear?”

Her teeth shivered together. Weakness assailed her where she thought she might collapse even with the wall’s support. “I … I heard a crash. I looked out and swear I saw a shadow. Then I heard the music box crash to the floor. It couldn’t have fallen by itself.”

It had rang, rang, rang a discordant tune as it shattered.

She nailed one hand over her right ear. The other hand kept the towel attached to her body.

“Stay here while I check it out,” Garret said.

“No.” She couldn’t stay here. Not alone. Not right now. And she didn’t want him to go alone. After lounging so near that dead body, thinking at first it was just a rock, maybe she really was losing her mind.

“Okay, okay, calm down.” He seized her shoulders. Warmth and security. She moved into him, longing to be safe in his arms. Longing for his reassurance that everything would be okay. As if his simple embrace could protect her.

He could rip off her towel and it’d only be her bare-naked skin. Skin that was so cold and frightened on the outside but warm and willing on the inside.

Her nipples pebbled. Now was not the time to be thinking these things.

He stepped away from her and dropped his grip on her shoulders. “I’m going to go check on things. Sit by the fire. Get warm. I’ll be right back.”

He left. She let him go. She had to let him go, check on things, assure her she wasn’t losing her mind. But then? If she wasn’t losing her mind, it meant someone had been in her condo. Why would someone break into her condo?

Did it have anything to do with that letter, warning her of death? Did it have anything to do with her mother, who had warned her Uncle Ray was a fraud?

She swore Garret was gone an hour, but only a couple of minutes passed before he came back in, carrying Aikido.

“I saw a broken music box and found Aikido in there. Don’t know how that happened.”

“It couldn’t have been the cat.” Reagan had seen a shadow, hadn’t she?

She sat on the hearth and let the warmth lap at her body like the aforementioned cat’s tongue. The towel rode up too high for vanity’s sake. Garret dropped the cat and sat beside her, his eyes going everywhere but on her face.

Heat spread through her limbs and for one crazy moment, she thought about opening her legs and revealing all. But sanity returned and she kept them closed.

“You … you had a gun.”

Garret shrugged.

“Do you carry a gun with you everywhere you go?”

“Not usually.”

Reagan shuddered. She couldn’t dwell on this now. “I need to dress. Will you go over with me?”

She accepted his proffered hand, using his strength as an aid to help her stand. Unsteady legs weighed her down. Her clammy palms weakened his hold until she finally dropped her hand from his. She inched one step forward, but heavy weights kept her sluggish and slow. It was like a rope had been tied to her feet, not only anchoring her but stretching and sinking her to a dark, dank place she didn’t want to go.

“Did you check the closet?”

“Yes, I checked everywhere.”

They entered her condo. Reagan bundled the front of the towel together in her hands, keeping it cinched around her, and stopped to listen for footsteps. Entering the bedroom, she saw the broken music box. She knelt to study it, fondling the pieces in one hand while the other still held the towel. She really liked this box, felt a kinship with it somehow, as if it was meant for her, as if a part of the memory of her uncle died along with the music.

She had no memories of her uncle. This music box was a memento, and now it was irreparable. She doubted the cat created this damage.

She stood, catching the towel before it fell. Maybe she should let it fall and watch Garret’s reaction.

“Watch your step.” Garret took her hand and guided her over the broken porcelain. Her body burned. She held onto the towel, wondering what he would do if she let it drop. Her skin prickled and tingled, begging to be touched. She imagined him rubbing his hands across her breasts, down her stomach, and onto her thighs.

Instead of fulfilling her fantasy, she changed in the closet, keeping the door open. Oh well if he saw her, she was too scared to keep the door closed now.

Someone had been in her condo. She was sure of it.

When she came out, fully dressed, Garret had cleaned up the glass on the floor. “You want to check around, make sure nothing is missing?”

“Why would something be missing if it was Aikido?”

Garret shrugged, a casual movement of shoulders that belied the clenching in his jaw. Anxiety edged along her spine.

“Just in case.”

She wouldn’t know if anything was missing. She checked her clothes. They were there. The TV was there, but it’d be hard to steal. The DVD movies appeared to be in order, but she wouldn’t know what her uncle kept here. He could have a stash of money somewhere and she’d never know.

The moose lay on the floor, partway under the bed. She picked it up, petted it, and set it on the bed. That could have fallen at any time, but she was sure it’d been on the bed this morning. She slept with it propped against the spare pillow, but it was possible she’d knocked it off and didn’t notice. Nothing else on the bed was disturbed.

Ray’s cologne and shave cream still occupied the bathroom vanity. She didn’t have the heart to throw it away and besides, having men’s belongings in her bathroom comforted her. Her art supplies were all intact and the door to the spare bedroom was closed.

The necklace. She should check the dresser, but she’d have to show it to Garret. Besides, her drawers were all closed like they had been before she left. Nobody had disturbed them. The sparkly socks were still in the box in her closet. Only the music box had been disturbed. If the necklace was gone, she’d have to face reality. She’d rather forget reality, that someone might want her gone. Dead.

And why would she even think that? Her mother had sent that letter to scare her. She was sure of it. This break-in was unrelated.

“Everything is here as far as I can tell.” She stood by the door in her bedroom and stared outside, letting the beauty surround and relax her. She wanted to feel safe again.

“That man,” she said, glancing at Garret as he walked toward her and stood beside her. “Who was he?”

“A friend who disappeared several weeks ago. He was out skiing with some friends.”

“Chris? Your friend Chris?” She heard her voice rising and crashing like the screeching tires of a vehicle colliding with another. She remembered talking about Chris at their awkward dinner date.

Garret nodded an affirmation, and the fear inside her intensified. Everything was falling apart. “What happened?”

“An avalanche happened,” Garret said. “He was out skiing with his buddies, and they didn’t take precautions. He didn’t have on his transceiver. They searched for days, but … ”

Garret fluttered his fingertips on her palm, a feather light brush of skin on skin.

“A transceiver?”

“It’s a radio device, like a beacon, that is essential for that kind of skiing. Even if he was wearing it, they’d have to know where to search to find him.”

His hands enveloped hers and she thought, she hoped, he was going to kiss her. Comfort her, stay with her. She didn’t want to be alone.

She leaned into him. His breath caressed her ear as they stood side by side facing the window. He draped his arm behind her, resting it on the other side of her hip. Turning her face to his, she caught a gasp in her throat as his head came down. He covered her lips with his, a feather light touch of mouth against mouth.

The room spun. Her eyes burned. She tempered her passion, afraid to appear desperate. She opened her mouth and he deepened the kiss as he turned into her arms. His strong arms held her, preventing her from melting into the floor. For one sweet moment, she thought she would finally be able to release everything she’d been holding back for him.

His phone rang. Startled, she flinched. He pulled away to answer it.

His brow furrowed. He turned his back to her, but she walked around to face him. She wanted to know if something was wrong, even if she didn’t know the dead guy. She’d discovered the body and deserved to know what else they found.

He ended his call and studied the floor. Seconds passed between them, and she knew it must be bad. But she didn’t want to be treated as if she couldn’t handle the truth.

“What’s going on?”

He raised his gaze to hers and those magnificent eyes slammed into hers.

“Naomi and Chayton are in jail.”

• • •

Naomi was the last one to walk through the door, and the way she slammed it could have created an avalanche twenty miles away.

Reagan glanced at Garret, who was brave enough to stay through the storm. She was thankful for him. They’d ridden together to pick up Naomi and bail Chayton out of jail. Chayton stayed for his Jeep, pissed that the police had impounded his vehicle and determined to wait until he got it back. Naomi would have walked home if Chayton rode with them.

She was that upset.

Garret muttered something Reagan couldn’t quite hear to Naomi, and Naomi wheeled on him, nose flaring.

“Your brother almost got me arrested. He did get arrested.” She threaded her fingers through her hair. “They searched the vehicle as if we were criminals.”

“He drives like a maniac sometimes,” Garret said. “That doesn’t mean he’s a criminal.”

“They said this was his second offense in a year. He had a warrant out for his arrest for unpaid tickets.”

“Speeding tickets,” Garret said. “He probably forgot. He stays busy.”

Reagan glanced at him. He wasn’t helping much, but Reagan didn’t want him to leave.

“He drove over the median in the middle of an icy highway,” Naomi said. “So he could turn around and avoid the wreck in front of us. That’s more than just a speeding ticket.”

Naomi dropped to the couch and curled into a ball. Reagan sat beside her. “So he needs to grow up a little,” Reagan said. Springing up, Naomi jammed a pillow into Reagan’s chest. Reagan stood with her. “So he needs to grow up a lot, but give the guy a break. He just found out his friend was dead.” Reagan shuddered. Those cold eyes plagued her, lifeless and staring straight into hers until Garret closed them.

Chris. A friend of Garret’s, of Chayton’s, of her uncle Ray’s.

“Chayton is in jail, and I was almost arrested because of him.”

“You wouldn’t have gone to jail,” Reagan said. “I walked up on a dead body, and all you care about is whether or not you almost
didn’t
go to jail.”

Naomi retreated one step, her face blanching, white as snow as she glared at Reagan. Whirling, she stormed to her room, her boots booming against the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Reagan called, immediately regretting her cruel words, even if they were true. She winced as Naomi slammed the door behind her.

Garret leaned against the counter in the kitchen, his hands stuffed in his khaki pockets, jiggling keys and change. Relaxed, as if none of this was a big deal. Reagan wanted to ball her hands into his shirt and use his chest as a support post. Wasn’t that what friends were for?

“You going to be okay?” Garret walked up to her and for a moment, she thought she would have the safety net of his arms. Instead, he rubbed his hands along the sides of her arms like a boy scout would rub sticks to create a spark. He didn’t have to work too hard to create a spark.

She nodded and stepped into him, nuzzling her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, his warmth and strength offering the support she desperately needed. He smelled like safety. Like the shelter of trees on a cold winter’s day and a cozy campfire.

His phone bleated. She lifted her head and looked at him as he reached for it. Since his back was braced against the cabinet and he couldn’t move away, he gently moved her aside.

“Yeah?” he answered as he walked away from her, keeping his back toward her. He glanced at her once, started for the door, and muttered something she couldn’t hear. Something that sounded like, “I’ll be right there.” He ended his call and lingered a moment, as if thinking.

He turned and looked at her, his chin to the floor but his eyes lifted up to meet hers. Time stood still for about a second before he approached her. He set his forehead and nose against hers, breathing her breath and giving his in return, sending a hot wake of fire to the apex of her thighs.

He raised his head and looked at her before lumbering to the door. “I’ve got to go check on Chayton before he does something incredibly stupid,” he said, his voice rich with regret as he slipped away and opened the door. “Or before I do.”

Chapter Fourteen

“I can’t stay, Reagan.” Naomi folded a sweater and bundled it with the other sweaters in her suitcase. “I have two hours before I have to head to the airport, and I still need a shower. So please don’t argue with me.”

“I’d help you pack, but I wouldn’t do it right.”

Naomi laughed and side hugged Reagan before returning to her task. “Probably not.”

Reagan paced the room, fell to the bed, twirled Dr. Till in her arms. Restless, she didn’t know what to do with herself as she watched Naomi pack. She hadn’t seen Garret since yesterday, after he had bailed Chayton out of jail and then bailed out on her.

“Reagan, you’re making me nervous.”

She stomped out of the room. “Fine.”

Naomi showered. Reagan called Chayton and Garret, but neither answered. She slipped next door to inform Chayton of Naomi’s imminent departure, but no one was home. She called Air Dog, but Simone told her they were both out today.