Keep (Command #2) (7 page)

“You call the constable.” And he’d have to call Jason.

Maybe it was just kids, Kara tried to convince herself. Shawn stood in the hall, his eyes on the shambles of her apartment. Her hand trembled as she produced her phone and dialed. Of course the policeman that answered didn’t speak a lick of English. Her gaze went up to Shawn. “Do you speak any Dutch?”

His eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Almost everyone speaks English here. I tried to learn, but I suck at foreign languages.”

“Americans,” he’d muttered, taking the phone from her.

“Yeah, I am.” It made her crazy when he said that, like her nationality was a disease. Especially when he had a US passport in his pocket.

The policeman must have understood enough German to get an idea of what had happened. Shawn hung up and passed the phone back to her. “They’re on their way.” He peered inside. “How is it your company sent you here when you don’t speak the language?”

This is what he wanted to talk about now? “Since I’m amazing at what I do.” Normally she would be humble, but her fear and anger at the situation disrupted that.

His gaze fell on her, a hint of surprise ringing his eyes. “If that’s true, you should come work for me.” Before she could get out a response to that, he stepped inside.

“Whoever did this could still be in there.”

“I don’t think so.” He pointed to a shattered bottle of red wine on the floor by the kitchen area. The splattered remains of puddles around the shards of glass were dry, leaving an ugly, dark mess. “This happened days ago.”

Shawn moved cautiously, scouring the apartment for the intruder while she hesitantly followed him, her breath held when he disappeared into her bedroom.

“It’s empty.” His deep voice came from inside. “Don’t touch anything. I’m calling Jason.”

“Okay.” Her muscles were tight and tense.

The kitchen off of the main area wasn’t in as bad of shape, but it was overwhelming nonetheless. Silverware all over the counter, broken glasses… cereal crunched under her feet. She wanted to scream. If this was Juric, it made no sense. And if it wasn’t Juric, who and why? She had nothing of value and there was no reason for someone to be angry enough with her to do this. Unless . . . Rhodes? That made even less sense than Juric.

Her foot nudged a broken picture frame on the floor. The photo was of her, Laurel and Jason at her sister’s theater last month, the premiere of “Swan Lake.” Sometime during the following week after that night, Jason had learned of the fire and that sent them into hiding. Would Jason and Laurel’s nightmare become reality again? Through the open doorway she heard the German flowing from Shawn.

A knock on the front door sent her heart into overdrive. The cops? She cracked the door and saw a badge on the other side.
Thank god.

“Do you speak English?” she asked as she opened the door to the man.

He nodded and stepped inside, looking around and surveying the damage with interest. He was young and short, with black jeans and a dark green shirt, and a scowl. He didn’t look much like a cop.

“When I came home, it was like this,” she said.

He moved exceptionally fast. She only saw the knife because the flat side of it caught the light before it bit into the flesh of her neck.

“Where is Juric?” The man’s voice was low with a European accent she couldn’t place, and rasped like he smoked a thousand cigarettes a day. “Tell me or I slit your fucking throat.”

“W-What?”

The hand jerked and the burning pain said he’d cut her. A nick, just enough to make her bleed and believe he’d do what he said.

“We know he was here. Why?”

Juric, here? “I don’t know.” Her whole body shook. Living in New York, she’d been told not to fight back when being mugged or attacked, but she’d always been a fighter. She needed a weapon.

The ugly man grabbed a fistful of hair at the base of her skull, yanking her over to the stove. The knife was gone from her neck to flip the gas burner onto high, and then the sharp point was at her side, just below the ribs. Her eyes were drawn to the ring of flames rising from the empty burner.

“Put your hand out,” he commanded.

She tried not to whimper. “No.”

“Then talk. Why did he come here?”

“Please, I don’t know,” she gasped loudly.

The hand in her hair tightened and made her vision blur for a single breath. Warm blood ran down her neck, soaking her shirt. There was a cast-iron skillet in the drying rack on the other side of the counter. She couldn’t reach it, not with his hands on her.

For the first time since she’d met Shawn, she was overwhelmingly relieved to see him. He barreled out of the bedroom, a blur of dark hair and angry eyes charging towards her.
Holy crap, he moved fast
. So fast he probably didn’t see the knife lying in wait for him. The man released her, assuming Shawn was a bigger threat.

Her hands reached frantically, closed around the handle of the heavy skillet. Shawn was almost to them, where he’d run right into the knife. So she swung with all the force she had. There was a horrifying thud when the skillet connected with the man’s skull, and the impact reverberated up her arms. He fell instantly, the knife skittering across the floor. Shawn pulled up short, stunned.

“Oh, shit.” Her voice was barely audible as she dropped the skillet.

He flew towards her and grabbed a dishtowel along the way, pressing it to the side of her neck when he reached her.

“Are you all right?” His eyes were full of panic.

“Is he dead? Did I kill him?”

“Kara, how bad are you hurt?”

She didn’t answer. Instead she looked down and saw the burner still going. She switched it off, her mind numb from what had happened. What she’d just done.

Shawn eyed the twitching body on the floor. Kara’s face was completely white as she held the towel to her bleeding neck. Her shoulders shook as she trembled. They couldn’t stay here — it wasn’t safe. He pulled a black coat off of a hook and draped it around her shoulders, not wanting the red one she’d been wearing because it would be too noticeable. “We have to go.”

He gently pressed her forward, staying between her and the man on the floor, shielding the body from her view. He grabbed both of the bags they’d left by the front door, urging her out into the hall, and was grateful now he’d set the crew on standby until he called. He’d felt confident in getting Kara’s invitation to stay the night, but then again, he’d made plenty of mistakes with her. She said nothing as he dialed his pilot’s mobile.

“Register the flight plan to Munich. We’ll be on board in twenty minutes and I want to be in the air immediately afterward.”

They fled back to the airport, him pulling both suitcases this time. She kept her head down and the dishtowel around her neck like a scarf, and they didn’t draw much attention since it was getting late and a weeknight.

“I can’t go to Munich, I’ve got a meeting at nine.” A nervous laugh escaped her, like she only realized the ridiculousness of what she’d said at that moment.

“Once we get in the air, we’ll figure out what to do.” He wasn’t sure himself. Thoughts of Juric out in the open had left his brain sluggish. This had to be Juric, but why?

“I thought he was going to kill you,” she said. “He had the knife, and you were coming at him so fast.”

The truth was Shawn had been coming for her. There had been a lot of blood and it made him sick thinking about it now. Seeing the knife and the man who’d hurt her had filled him with blinding rage. He was going to make sure that man couldn’t use that knife on her again.

“He cut your throat, and you were worried about me?” he said, in disbelief. She didn’t answer.

He carried their bags straight into the cabin to save time and Victoria startled when she noticed Kara’s injury.

“Bloody hell,” the flight attendant gasped. “What’s happened?” Then the woman flushed at cursing in front of her employer.

Shawn ignored that. “Close the cabin door so we can get airborne and bring me the first aid kit.”

Victoria didn’t bristle at him barking out orders. Instead she followed them without question. Kara sank down into a seat. Her blank eyes were disturbing. Was she going into shock? Her shoulders rose as she took a deep breath, blinked her eyes back into focus, and pulled the towel away.

“Is it still bleeding?” she asked.

His stomach felt like it was lined with lead. He took a knee in front of her and set a hand on each of her shoulders. She angled her chin to give him a good view. The cut didn’t look deep, or like it was weeping blood anymore. “I don’t think so.”

Behind him, there was a thud as the hatch slammed shut with force, and Victoria’s footsteps dashed away.

His hand on the shoulder opposite her wound, slid up to hold her cheek. “
Scheiße,”
he swore.
“Please tell me you’re all right.”

The icy silver of her eyes was magnetic as she slowly nodded.

Victoria was back with a white medical box in one hand and used her other to brace herself on a seatback when the plane lurched into motion. He snatched the box from her, popped the lid open, and paused. Blood, some still fresh, streaked down Kara’s neck, over her collarbone and soaked the shirt.

“What is it?” Kara asked.

He stood. “You’ll want to clean up first in the lavatory.” He turned back to Victoria. “Do you need us seated for takeoff?”

“Yes, Mr. Dunn. I can have the pilots hold for a minute.”

He didn’t want to be on the ground another second, but he also wanted the constant, visible reminder of what had just happened gone for Kara. “Do it.”

“Shawn, sit.” A cool hand grasped his and tugged. “It can wait. I don’t want to stay here.”

His eyes snapped to Victoria’s and she nodded with understanding. Her fingers punched in the code to the cockpit as Shawn sat, Kara’s grip still tight on his. The engines throttled up and they abandoned their hold only for a second to do up seatbelts, and then she took his hand again.

“Tell me what happened,” he said.

She explained it in an unemotional voice while they climbed into the clouds.
“Where is Juric? We know he was here.”
Shawn’s spine felt like it was made out of ice, the cold spreading outwards. Juric had been to her place, or at least that man believed he had. What the fuck was Juric doing anywhere near Kara?

The pilots hadn’t finished the climb to altitude when the sound of metal unbuckling came from Victoria’s station. She materialized instantly, a clean towel in her hands. “What else can I get you?”

Kara stood at the same time he did. “I’ll need a new shirt.”

He asked Victoria to do that by motioning to Kara’s suitcase, taking the towel from the cabin attendant’s hands, and then led Kara to the lavatory at the back of the plane. The small room would be difficult to maneuver in even with the door open.

At the sight of the half-dried rivulets of blood down her neck in the bathroom mirror, Kara put her hands on the hem of her shirt. There were no words. She simply lifted the bloody shirt over her head and set it on the sink, revealing her creamy skin held in a black bra beneath, and took the towel from him.

There was nothing sexual about it and he took his gaze off of her while she cleaned up. His nerves were jagged, the effects lingering in his system. He took the offered shirt Victoria had pulled from the suitcase.