Adrenaline fueled by fear swept through him.
Emotional fear.
Maggie was not like other jobs.
“Lora?” He asked the
officer for an update.
“We took a walk. Were gone
maybe thirty minutes. Got back less than five minutes ago. Maggie
found this. We locked up before leaving.”
“Have you checked the
house?”
“Not yet.”
Harte loosened his grip on
Maggie enough to turn her to face him, but not enough to let her
free.
His heart drummed in his ears. He’d
had a shitty day with little progress on any of his cases,
especially Maggie’s, and it had just gotten worse. BD pulled his
gun and grabbed Maggie’s hand again.
“Seriously, we’re doing
this again?”
“Yes, and you’re staying
with me.” Adrenaline roared. Possibilities snapped like starved
crocodiles. They may have missed Adalia or scared her away. They
may also have driven her into hiding. “Lora, check the far side of
the house. Closets too.”
“On it.” The officer
pulled her gun from her waist at her back and headed to the
office.
“You know, Harte—” Maggie
trailed behind him semi-obediently, “—you take this paranoid cop
thing too far at times.”
“Mags.” Her tone didn’t
relay the casualness her words did and with his patience already
close to exhausted for the day, he didn’t feel like placating her.
Adalia had probably already gone, but it was a chance he couldn’t
take. “I have a job to do and it includes keeping your stubborn ass
alive.”
“You think Adalia’s still
here?”
“I’ve seen stranger things
happen.”
Maggie nodded and became
agreeable. “Got it.”
After a thorough search
turned up an empty house, they met back in the living room. “Lora,
call Craig, McClain and Lewis. And I want CSIs.”
“On it,” she said just as
she had before and walked away, pulling out her cell
phone.
“All right, Mags, here’s
how this is going to work.” He led her to the built-in bookshelves
stuffed with romance novels and pointed. “Pick out a book. I’m
going to process your house with my team, and I need you to stay
out of the way while I’m doing it.”
“So you’re telling me to
pick out a book as if I’m going to be able to relax like nothing’s
going on?” Her agreeable attitude was slipping away beneath her
bristling need to be independent.
“I’m asking you to please
pick out a book and go to my room to wait for me. Read. Pretend to
read.” He shrugged. “I don’t give a dam as long as you let me do my
job.”
She studied his face
intently. Her fingers flexed in his. “Answer one question for me
first. No qualifications or evasions allowed.”
This didn’t bode well. She
wouldn’t ask an easy question he could talk his way out of or
around. “One question.”
“It’s been relatively calm
around here the last couple of days in regards to murdered women,
animal carcasses and haunting memories from my life with Mike. I
was just beginning to relax and now this. How is it Adalia is able
to hit me from every angle at the perfect moments?”
It was a tough question, but easier than if
she’d asked about the connection to Mike. Still, he had to be
careful with his phrasing. To speed things along, he reached up to
grab a book from the shelf. Stuck in a corner of a shelf was a
small, almost unnoticeable bug. His jaw stiffened until it
throbbed.
The destroyed bedroom had netted Adalia
nothing so she’d messed up part of the house and planted bugs to
see what else she could learn. She wouldn’t stop with the privacy
invasion until she had what she wanted.
“Because she’s gotten
lucky. Now, take this book and come with me.”
Maggie opened her mouth, no doubt to argue
his answer wasn’t good enough or that he was being bossy again. He
put a finger on her lips to stop her and then led her to his
bathroom.
“I want you to take a nice
long bath.” He motioned for her to stay quiet a little longer. “I
realize this tub isn’t as luxurious as yours, but it’s still quite
nice. You said it yourself, you’ve had a rough few
days.”
He sat the book on the
counter, closed the doors that led to his room and to the hall,
turned on the bath water and then searched the room for a bug. “You
deserve to relax and let someone else do the worrying for a little
bit.”
She crossed her arms and
leaned against the wall. “Sounds like I should schedule a spa day.
Mani, pedi, facial, full-body massage.”
He looked up from his search and found her
watching him with arched brows and pursed lips. She’d figured out
what he was doing and was biding her time. She noticed too much at
times, but times like now her awareness worked in his favor.
“I hear you women love
those. My mom and sister do.”
Once he was satisfied the
bathroom was free of bugs, he left the water running and kept his
voice low in case he’d missed one. “Adalia is good, but not good
enough to do all of this without help. We think she’s got someone
on the inside, and by that I mean someone on the force. As for how
she knows when to strike, I think she’s been watching you from very
close by—like from the empty rental house next door.”
She didn’t react
physically, which made it impossible to know what she’d do or say
next. “And when she’s been in the house she’s planted
bugs.”
“Unless you see a need to
spy on yourself, yes. So I am asking you to please stay in here or
my room while my team processes your house. No phone
calls.”
“Fine.” The mutinous glare
in her eyes broadcast her difficulty with agreeing. “I want an
update as soon as you finish.”
“I agreed to answer one
question. We’ll see about more later.” She didn’t like it, but
she’d backed herself into the corner of having to take what he’d
give her. Once he had her assurance she would cooperate, he left to
join his team.
In the living room, after he pointed out the
bug and signaled for a sweep to be done, he lined out what he
wanted done with silent instructions for the one in the bookshelf
to be left for the time being. He could use it to their favor.
“Maggie’s obsessive,” BD
told them, “so it will be easy to spot anything out of
place.”
McClain and Lewis were on bug duty. The CSIs
would take prints and pictures. He and Craig would take Maggie’s
room. Lora called in her partner and they would take the house next
door.
With everyone heading their own way, he and
Craig headed to Maggie’s room. Craig pulled his digital camera out
and took pictures. Then they settled into the work of sorting
through everything to see what Adalia had hidden for Maggie to
find.
“This is about more than
some papers. It’s like Adalia has a personal vendetta to
settle.”
“She hasn’t found what she
wants and she isn’t seeing the results of getting into Maggie’s
head.” As if the mental rape of destroying her room wasn’t a clear
enough message, BD picked up a piece of paper pinned to a black
lace thong. He didn’t need the image in his head of Maggie in a
thong. Or the knowledge they seemed to be her preference judging
from the scattered clothes. He wouldn’t look at her in her proper
slacks the same way again.
“Interesting place to
leave a note.” The humor in Craig’s voice snapped him
back.
“Very.” He unpinned the
slip of paper and dropped the panties back onto the pile on the
floor. The note shoved the image of Maggie’s ass framed in black
lace backwards.
“Mike paid for turning me in. Don’t try to
outsmart me. Get me the papers or die.”
—Adalia
“Mike turned her in?”
Craig paused with a wrinkled T-shirt that might have belonged to a
non-OCD Maggie in hand.
“You think he called in
the tip about that meeting?”
“It could follow. Maybe
he'd decided he was in over his head. Helping stop her was the only
way to get out.”
Shit.
He hadn’t wanted to be right about Mike being involved, and
if Maggie found out… It would rip her down to the level Adalia
wanted her. “We need a more thorough background on Sullivan. I need
to finish searching the house, and Maggie is in the way of my doing
that.”
“You could clue her in and
see what she knows.”
“No.” Involving her could
only be a last resort. “At least not yet.”
“Mags.” Exhaustion
darkened Harte’s eyes when he returned for her.
Checking the clock, Maggie
saw she’d been waiting in his room for five hours. More shocking
was she’d actually read over half of her newest romantic comedy and
the humor had eased some of her tension. “You done?”
“Yeah.”
Prepared to spend the night cleaning, she
marked her place in the book and headed toward the living room. His
team had pawed through her entire house, so she would likely have
days of work to do.
She rounded the wall into
the living room and stumbled. It was clean. Not just tidy, but
clean. Clean to her standards. “Did you guys fingerprint
stuff?”
“Yes.” He pointed to the
bug. “The bedroom’s still a little messy, but the rest of the house
is clean.”
“I’ll deal with it.” She
nodded her understanding and went to see his definition of clean
for the rest of the house. Harte didn’t follow, as if he knew she
needed to face this alone. Every room was as spotless as the living
room had been, but she’d saved her room for last.
After a bracing breath, uncertain she wanted
to see her room again, she stepped inside and stared.
He’d folded her clothes and
stacked them in tidy piles on the dresser. The shredded mattress,
bedding and damaged headboard were gone. In their place sat a new
mattress on a plain frame. Her knick-knacks had been straightened
and all other reminders of the scene were gone. “He…”
Breathing raggedly as her
heart shook and her throat grew tight she swiped at her eyes.
Unable to mute the hum growing louder and louder in her brain, she
shook her head and stared. “He cleaned…”
He had thought of her. Whether he’d known
having to clean the mess would shred her guts and rob her of more
control or not, he’d dealt with the destruction for her. He’d given
her a brief respite from having to handle everything on her own.
He’d sheltered her. Yes, there was work still to be done, but she
could easily live with letting it wait a little bit.
She bit her bottom lip and walked to the
middle of her room. Her hands trembled violently as she reached for
an undamaged pillow from the chair. Sinking to the floor, she
buried her face in it and curled into a ball. No man had ever
touched her like Harte managed to do by cleaning. Tears stabbed her
eyes like hot ice picks. Massive sobs racked her body until she
ached everywhere.
She cried for the loss of Mike. She cried for
Jared’s pain. She cried for Emma, who would never know her father.
She cried for the rediscovery of herself.
Her neighborhood was no longer the quiet and
safe place she’d once thought. Her home had now been invaded and
bugged by a killer. Whatever Adalia wanted, Maggie could do nothing
to make it all go away.
And as scary as it all was, she had a man in
her life, if only temporarily, who had considered her feelings and
gone above and beyond in his job. And he’d talked his team into
helping. Generally stubborn and demanding, his flashes of
thoughtfulness and tenderness struck a chord deep inside and he
calmed her as if he’d been doing it for years. He brought to light
the reality of what she’d hold out for if she were to ever marry
again.
She swiped away a tear and trembled.
It had been less than a week and Harte knew
her better than Mike, which was sad considering she’d grown up with
her husband.
“Mags.” Harte squatted
beside her and brushed the hair away from her face.
Looking at him through tear-blurred eyes, she
yearned for the freedom to curl into him. To know he’d protect her
and his comfort was the kind she could grow to need. Even depend
on.
A shiver pranced along her spine. Knowing
that kind of connection with Harte, a man who could die any day on
his job, wasn’t a chance she could take. Opening up again just to
lose again… No way.
He settled on the floor, pulled her into his
lap and handed her some tissue. He’d apparently taken a quick
shower while she wandered the house because he was slightly damp
and dressed like he’d been the night the power went out.
Engulfed by helplessness to listen to logic
and reason, unable to resist his comfort, she bowed to desire and
curled into his warmth. The dusting of hair covering his chest
rubbed softly against her cheek. He fit against her perfectly. She
hadn’t noticed the fit when he’d comforted her after Mike’s death,
but she’d noticed it each time they’d been close recently. Her
pulse sped.
Noticing it now wasn’t less scary.
And wanting him for this moment wasn’t wrong.
It didn’t mean she’d come to rely on him or that he’d stay when it
was all over. For now, for just a little while in the security of
his embrace, she pretended she was special to him.
“Mags, I’m going to make
this right.”
She shook her head. “Things
will never be right again.”