On the Scent (3 page)

Three hours later, Brian's daughter was born, and damn if Zach didn't feel a swell of pride, looking at the tiny infant for the first time.

An unfamiliar emotion puffed out his chest when he peeked in on the nursery with Brian and saw little Jessica kicking her tiny feet against a pink blanket. He'd never been a kid kind of person, but he had a feeling that little squirt was gonna own his heart.

“Now that I know Jenny's fine and the baby's here, I need to get back over to Hannah's place,” Brian said as they stood there. “I didn't tell her about the car following her.” Brian rubbed the back of his neck. “She's not safe, and I owe her. I need to get back over there and —”

“You're not leaving this hospital.” Zach pulled out his phone and began scrolling through his contacts. Kellan was due to bodyguard his actress girlfriend at a charity event tonight. What freelancers did they know? Who was available? “I'll put someone else on her.”

“Who?” Brian held up his hands. “We're stretched too damn thin as it is.” His glance strayed back to the crib that cradled his kid. “You should do it.” Before Zach could manage a response, Brian stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Look, man, it's been six months. It's time for you to get back in the game.”

“Not a good idea.” Zach leaned in close. “Let's face it. I'm a better actor than a P.I. We don't need another screw up like what happened the last time I handled a job.”

Brian scrunched his face in either disgust or disagreement. Maybe both. “You were an actor for fifteen minutes on some stupid reality show hardly anyone remembers. That's behind you. What's bringing this up now?”

Fifteen minutes? That barb stung.
The Psychic Detective
had lasted three seasons before Zach's conscience had gotten the best of him and he'd quit. The so-called psychic who'd replaced him hadn't lasted more than a year before viewership had dropped and the show had been cancelled.

People had liked him, dammit.

Zach opened his mouth to argue that perhaps if they'd taken advantage of that fact a little more, the firm wouldn't be in such a mess now, but he censored himself. The only time he and Brian had ever come to blows had been over Zach's television con. Brian had beat the shit out of Zach when he'd finished his tour of duty, returned to the states, and discovered Zach had been pretending to be psychic by using his eerie ability to pick up on the details others missed. Never mind his reasons for doing it. Brian hadn't cared.

Zach clenched his jaw and said nothing. Just looked at his best friend.

Brian lifted his chin and softened his tone. “Come on, man. You
do
have the background. You'd either be a Marine or a cop if it weren't for your arm.” He flicked his fingers against Zach's left elbow. Zach instinctively massaged his forearm, remembering his basic training exercise gone bad. He'd been lucky some nerve damage was the only injury he'd gotten from the overturned vehicle. He kept it in check with medicine and exercise.

“Yeah, but I'm not a Marine, and I'm not a cop.”
Thanks for rubbing it in, asshole.
His injury had prevented him from qualifying for either title.

“But you never gave up trying.” Brian held up his hands, in full-on pep-talk mode now. “When I was stationed in Afghanistan, you were working your ass off at one of the best P.I. firms in Los Angeles. You were so good, a client recommended you to that TV producer. Hell, you've been a P.I. longer than me. So what if something bad happened on one case? It was just one case.” When Zach stepped to move away, Brian grabbed his good arm and stilled him. He kept his voice low, but firm. “Point is, we need to help that woman, and you're more than capable.
I
need you to help that woman. Do it for me.”

“You don't know what you're asking.” Zach pulled his arm free. Brian hadn't been the one Ellie Parham had hired years ago to do the background check on the young woman she'd employed as a nurse. He had no idea the things Zach had done to meddle in Hannah's life after that. Zach would like to keep it that way.

Everything inside him was screaming for him to walk away. He couldn't say no to the only friend who'd stood by him.

“Fine. I'll do it.” Zach cast one last glance toward the newborn in the nursery. “Just remember that I said this was a bad idea.”

Twenty minutes later, Zach took a deep breath as he parked his SUV in front of the white-sided traditional home on the edge of one of Atlanta's nicer communities. He rarely came to Buckhead—too rich for his wallet—but he knew a woman who'd inherited ten million dollars could've picked a larger, newer, nicer house than this one-story ranch. He scanned the area, spotted an older woman walking her poodle along the sidewalk, watching him, and forced himself to get out of the car.

Brian was right. They needed to help Hannah Dawson. Maybe it was even meant for Zach to do penance by handling this case. Heaven help them both, but maybe it was.

He waved Kellan off and moved to press the doorbell. Sighing, he redirected his hand to push the hair away from his face instead.

This was gonna be awkward.

The echo of a dog's barking grew louder until he knew that chubby little mutt was right on the other side of the door. Zach blew out a breath and pressed the doorbell.

He heard movement on the other side followed by a quiet, “Hush, Costello.” The chain rattled as the door opened against it, and he barely recognized the woman who peeked out at him. He saw enough to know she was now dressed in a pair of sweatpants, baggy shirt and bare feet. Her hair was yanked back in a ponytail, making her look years younger, too.

He felt his breath catch in his chest. He'd always enjoyed seeing her like this.

“Mr. Collins. Can I help you?”

The dog's long snout poked out from the bottom of the cracked door as if it thought it could squeeze its entire body through the tiny space.

Zach squared his shoulders and forced a smile. “Miss Dawson. May I come in?”

She sighed, but nodded. “Just give me a second.” The door shut and the chain protested again as she unlatched it. The entrance cracked open. “Come in, and hurry.”

She was bent over, holding the dog's collar as he stepped through the door. Zach made sure the cat was still inside—there it was, perched on the back of the sofa—and shut the door.

“Sorry. I wasn't expecting visitors.”

The dog strained against her hold, and when she released him, he ran to Zach and jumped against his leg in greeting.

Hannah clapped and pointed at the ground. “Down, Costello.” Her shoulders sank some. “I'm sorry. Ellie never had him trained. He's horribly disobedient.” Seeing the dog sit, she walked toward the open kitchen, separated from the living room only by a large island. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Zach squinted down at the dog sitting on his left foot and looking up at him with a smelly, open-mouthed, tongue-hanging-to-the-side smile. “No thanks. I wanted to come by and apologize.” He looked up to see her tugging a cookie sheet from the oven. The aroma of melted chocolate chips triggered his mouth to start watering. “And also to thank you for what you did today.”

“How's Brian?”

“Holding up. His wife delivered a little girl. Seven pounds, eight ounces.”

“No problems?”

“None.”

“That's wonderful. What did they name her?”

“Jessica Marie.”

“Pretty name.” She checked the cookies to make sure they were done, and then she turned toward him and leaned against the counter. “I'm glad it ended well.”

He took a deep breath. “I'm sorry Brian reacted that way. I assure you he has never fainted before, especially while on the job. We'd like to offer you a discount on our services for a month. Half off. It's the least we can do.”

She looked away and her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. She was hesitating. Why was she hesitating?

“Mr. Collins—”

“Call me Zach.”

That seemed to give her more reason to pause. “I'm not certain your firm is the right one for me. Truthfully, I've decided I probably overreacted in coming to you.”

“But you signed a contract.”

“Yes, beginning with a trial day.” She straightened. Her eyebrows pulled together, but her tone was polite when she told him, “I'm sure Brian would prefer to spend this time with his family anyway. Perhaps, in the future —”

“Someone was following you today.”

“W-what?”

Ah, that had caught her attention. “Brian spotted the tail when you left our office.” He gave her the vehicle description. “Have you noticed that car before?”

“I don't know.” She sighed. “You know, maybe Brian was mistaken.” But the expression on her face told him she was worried.

Why the hell was she being so stubborn? He blew a soft breath through his nose and said, “If it matters, I was also planning to take over your case personally.”

“You were?”

Oh, it mattered, alright. He could tell by the way her eyes had sparked with interest. Why?
Because she thinks you're psychic, dumbass.

Dammit. He did not want to lie to this woman, but what choice had she given him? They needed this paycheck, but more than that, his gut twisted at the idea of her being alone with only God-knows-who targeting her. He liked this woman. Always had. Hell, he
owed
her.

If he was careful with his wording, maybe that would excuse him from bending his ethics this one time. It was worth a shot. She might hate him when she discovered he'd twisted the truth, but at least she would be safe.

“I'd like to take over your case.” He felt a heavy weight crush against his foot and realized the dog had decided to lie down against him. He gestured to the animal, swallowed, and prayed Brian wouldn't find out about this part. “And I will try my best to communicate with your cat and dog.”

She crossed her arms and leaned her head a tad to the right while she considered it.

Give her a reason to say yes.

What did those stupid Facebook memes always suggest cats and dogs were thinking? Food. Something about food would seem real.

“Your cat would like a treat.” He nodded toward the feline sitting on the floor behind her.

The cat perked up and shuffled its weight from paw to paw. As if Zach had said the magic word, the dog jumped to his feet and sat at attention.

Bingo.

Hannah uncrossed her arms. “You mentioned the T word. Doesn't take a psychic to know that'll get a reaction.”

Good point.

She turned and stretched up toward a cabinet. Zach used the opportunity to inspect his surroundings. Unopened boxes were strewn about the floor. Very few decorations were placed around the room. She wasn't giving him much to work with here.

A phone book was open on the sofa. He recognized the full-page ad of one the agency's biggest competitors. She was hiring someone else? Like hell.

What did he remember about her that he could use? His gaze landed on a familiar-looking DVD cover, half-buried beneath a few magazines on the coffee table behind him. He mentally snapped his fingers. When she faced him again, he gestured to the cat.

“He also wants to know when you're going to watch the short little man with the funny-looking hat and mustache again.”

Her entire body froze as if he'd pressed a pause button on her. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked at him, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I'm feeling laughter and seeing —” He scrunched his eyebrows. “Is it Charlie Chaplin?”

The bag of treats fell from her fingers and hit the counter with a soft thud. She turned her attention to the cat, who was still staring at Zach—and swishing its tail like crazy.

“Okay, that's kinda creepy.” She lifted the cat onto the island and gave it a few treats while she stroked its back. “I've got a new alarm. The police said they'd try to have a car patrol the area for a few days. I'm sorry, but my mind is made up.” She rounded the island and stuck her hand out to him. “Thank you for your services, Mr. Collins.”

A few minutes later, Zach stood on her doorstep, pissed at himself that he'd tried to con her with his psychic routine and angry at her because she hadn't taken the bait. Had he weirded her out, the way he was looking at her or something? He found her attractive, but getting involved with a client was the ultimate no-no in his book.

No, he knew he'd been careful not to give himself away on that front.

So what had happened? How did he fix this?

He scanned the neighborhood as he walked to his car, remembering Brian's words from the hospital.

“I didn't tell Hannah, but there was someone following her today.”

He'd promised Brian he'd keep her safe.

And he'd blown it.

“What the hell do I do now?” Zach shook his head as he lifted his hand to start the ignition, but something—a gut feeling—gave him pause. The hair on the back of his neck tickled as it lifted. Goosebumps rose on his arms.

He felt like he was being watched.

Why the blazes was there a SUV in her driveway?

Hannah hesitated on the doorstep when she spotted the unfamiliar vehicle. She instinctively jerked Costello's leash to rein him in, but he pulled ahead with the strength of a freight train.

Never mind calling the cops, Costello. For all we know there's a knife-wielding maniac waiting to jump out and grab us, but go on. Trudge ahead. I'm right behind you.

She stumbled along after him as Costello yanked over to the grass and hiked his leg. She kept her gaze on the car, trying to decipher the huddled figure slumped behind the steering wheel and leaning against the truck's window.

Was that Zachary Collins?

Surely he hadn't stayed here all night. Why would he have?

She led Costello closer. Yep, it was Zach alright. When she tapped on the driver's side window, the man gave a start.

“Shit,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear through the glass.

He blinked several times as he glanced around. He reached forward, toyed with the ignition and rolled the power window down.

“Everything okay?” she asked, wondering if he had some weird health problem that had caused him to pass out in her driveway.

“Fine.” He ran a hand over his face and nodded. “Good morning.”

Costello jerked forward and almost tugged her down. She caught herself with one foot braced in front of the other. “Good morning.”

“This probably seems kind of strange.” His lips curved up in a boyish grin. “I didn't plan to fall asleep in your driveway. Sorry.” He took a look at his watch. “I must have nodded off a half hour ago.”

Only a half hour ago?

His eyes were blood-shot. Geez. Did the guy have a drinking problem? Drugs? Narcolepsy?

She said nothing, just played tug of war with Costello's leash and waited for Zach to either explain himself or leave.

It had been hard enough sending him away last night. There was something about Zach that drew her to him the way Costello was drawn to human legs, and she'd been worried she was making the wrong decision again.

Zach oozed charisma. She was attracted to him in a way she didn't want to be, and she didn't trust him for that reason alone. Smooth-talking, handsome men—especially those who'd been on TV—had a reputation for inflated egos. Only cared about themselves. Been there. Done that. Once was a mistake. Twice was a choice, and she'd be darned if she made the same one again.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself she had a representative from another private security firm coming over this afternoon. Besides, she'd finally broken down and told Sarah everything, and her best friend was now hell-bent on coming over to assess the situation herself. And if Hannah knew Sarah, her friend would be bringing at least one of her very huge, very intimidating brothers with her as a precaution.

Zach pulled the key from his ignition and opened the door. “Mind if I use your restroom?”

She stepped back and shrugged. “Of course not.” She tilted her head toward the dog that was now munching on grass. She reached for the house key that was attached at her neck by a lanyard. “I've got to take him for our morning walk. Let yourself in. Please make sure Abbott doesn't get out.”

He looked at her hand, but he didn't take the key. “How about I walk with you first? There's something I'd like to discuss.”

What the hell? Getting away from him obviously wasn't going to be as easy as she'd hoped. And why did she feel so guilty about calling one of his competitors?

“Okay.” She sighed and allowed the forty-pound dog to lead the way. As soon as Costello realized she wasn't holding him back, he stopped trying to drag her behind him like a ragdoll. Slowing her steps, Hannah spared a quick look at the disheveled man beside her.

A morning beard darkened his chin, and his hair was ruffled.

Whew. He was hot. Sexy.

Trouble.

“Are you going to tell me why you spent the night in my driveway?” She focused on Costello, who'd slowed down and was backing up to do his morning business on her neighbor's lawn. Hannah snatched a small bag out of her pocket and waited for the dog to finish, and the man to answer.

Zach scanned the street in front of them with hawk-eye precision. “Someone was following you yesterday. Last night your house was being watched.”

Worry zinged through her brain until she shook herself free of the useless emotion. Had someone been following her, or had Zach invented it as a convenient excuse to scare her into retaining his services? She opted to believe the second, if only because the alternative was too terrifying.

She turned to him and forced a smile. “Thank you for staying, but I did make it clear your services aren't required.”

“I'm not kidding, Hannah.”

“Neither am I.”

His fingers gripped her arm, forcing her to turn and look at him. “You could be in real danger. Let me help you.”

“How do you know my house was being watched?” Costello hauled on the leash, demanding to be walked, so she gave in and hoped Zach would follow. “Did you actually see someone? What did they look like?”

He ran a hand through his hair as he casually matched her pace. His jaw clenched. “I didn't see anyone. I felt it.”

“Like a psychic thing?”

He shook his head. “Call it a gut reaction. I've been doing this a long time. Trust me, I know when my instincts are dead on, and I know when I'm being watched.”

Hannah had no idea how his psychic abilities worked—or if he was even psychic, for that matter—but she could hear the sincerity in his voice.

His fingers gripped her upper arm tight again, bringing her to another stop. His wide-eyed expression was serious—and a little alarming. “Who's watching the cat?”

“No one,” she admitted. “I—” She stopped her words when Zach yanked the lanyard from her hand and sprinted back the way they came. Costello bounded after him, jerking her arm almost out of its socket and nearly dragging her to the ground. “Wait a minute!”

Then she remembered Zach's question, and she ran like hell to catch up to him, too.

His gut churned in a familiar way that told Zach something bad was about to happen. He might not be psychic, but he hadn't been lying when he told Hannah his instincts rarely led him wrong.

A few minutes ago, the thought to trigger that gut churning had been,
the damn cat is a sitting duck right now
.

He didn't see anything suspicious as he hurried up the steps to Hannah's house, but he still opened the front door carefully.

The house was eerily quiet. He scanned the room and saw nothing unusual—not even the cat. He took a step inside, and that's when it hit him. The pungent smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, as if someone who smoked often had been in the room.

“What on earth?” Hannah said, coming up behind him fast.

The dog's paws shoved against the back of his knees, and Zach almost fell face-first into the carpet. He stumbled forward and caught himself against the wall as Costello raced around him and bounced into the room.

He was gonna kill that damn dog.

He held out an arm to prevent Hannah from moving further inside and asked in a whisper, “Do you smoke?” But he already knew the answer.

“No.”

The look of distaste on her face turned to something else as her nostrils flared and caught the same scent his had. She paled, and her fingers gripped the leather jacket covering his arm.

“Grab your cell phone and call the police. Go to a neighbor's house and wait on their porch.” He pulled away from her and inched forward, wishing like hell he was carrying his gun or some other weapon. A single vase sat on the bookshelf, so he grabbed it, glad to feel that it was heavy and could do some damage if needed. His attention caught on Costello, who sniffed the air and headed down the hall toward what Zach assumed were the bedrooms. He kept a good pace behind the dog, just in case.

The mutt growled and dashed into the open doorway of one of the rooms. Zach waited for an intruder to run out, but then the dog's whimper ripped the silence.

“Dammit.” He moved to charge forward and—

Someone rushed him from the side. Zach had enough time to see the bat swinging toward him before it felt like his brain exploded inside his skull. His teeth rattled as he hit the floor. The metallic taste of blood coated his tongue as everything threatened to fade to black.

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

The strange sound brought him back toward consciousness. Zach swallowed, tasted his own blood and nearly gagged. He blinked and saw a furry black and white cat standing too close to his face, licking its paw over and over again. He jerked sideways in surprise, making stars swim in his vision and a groan escape his mouth.

What the hell is his problem? It's not like I did this to him.

The thought—more like a strong feeling than words—seemed oddly foreign to Zach. He felt pressure on his leg and looked down to see the damn dog going to town with a fury.

Gotta help him. Gotta help him. Gotta show him who's boss. Gotta help him.

Again with the strange thought-feeling. Zach groaned and dropped his head back down, jarred his teeth.

He heard more licking and turned his head to see the cat's tongue still taking long swipes at its paw.

Dirty paw.

Hungry.

When's dinner?

Was the cat actually talking or—?

“Gnn-mmmm,” Zach groaned.

A second later, black engulfed him.

He should have come out by now.

Hannah shifted her weight from foot to foot as she debated going inside. She'd done as Zachary asked and called the police and was still holding on the line with the dispatcher, who annoyingly kept asking her for updates she couldn't give. She couldn't see or hear anything from where she stood on her absent neighbor's front porch.

“It will just be a few more minutes,” the woman on the other end kept saying.

It had already been seven minutes.

“Screw this,” she told the dispatcher. “I'm going inside.”

“I wouldn't advise that, Miss Dawson. Stay—” The voice ended when Hannah moved forward and a double beep informed her she'd lost the call. Well, crap. She shoved the phone in her pocket and hurried across her lawn.

The smell of cigarette smoke wasn't as strong as it had been when she'd stepped inside earlier. She listened, heard absolutely nothing aside from the tick-tock of the clock above the mantle, and slowly moved forward.

She tried to remember where she'd put the baseball bat she'd been keeping close for comfort's sake. Bedroom. Damn. What else could she use for a weapon? Another vase? They were in a box somewhere. She really needed to unpack soon.

“Mreow.”

The cat's call echoed through the living room seconds before Abbot's black and white body sauntered into view. He sat down, looked at her and meowed again. Then he rolled onto his side and gave her a sleepy-eyed look.

“Zach?” Her voice sounded loud, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the silence or because she'd spoken higher than she'd planned.

Hannah hurried toward the cat, scooped him up and stared down the empty hallway.

“Costello?” She whispered loudly.

The dog's head peeked out of a doorway. His beady eyes met hers, he barked and then he disappeared with a bunny-hop motion back into the room.

The curtains swayed in a breeze when she entered the area she had planned for an office. Her gaze landed on Zach's motionless body in the floor. Costello was busy humping one of the private detective's legs.

“Costello. No!”

Zach's chest barely rose and fell on shallow breaths. Her nurse training kicked in, and she bent to check for a pulse, trying to find evidence of what had caused the injury. A trickle of blood was drying below his nose. His pulse was steady.

“Zach, can you hear me?”

A low groan rumbled through his chest.

Abbot sat down on the other side of Zach's head and seemed fascinated by Hannah's actions as she used trembling fingers to lift his eyelids and check his pupil dilation. She reached for her phone, intending to dial 911 again, but the sound of a police car's siren in the distance stilled her.

She took a deep breath and caressed Zach's face.
I'm sorry. So sorry.
Someone had been in her home again. Someone had done this to him. She felt so violated and scared and angry. Angry at herself for not listening to him earlier. He'd been right.

The person doing this was dangerous, and worse, they didn't seem likely to give up anytime soon.