What Lies Within (35 page)

Kyla tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly as dry as sawdust. Her voice lodged, trapped by the fear that had suddenly dug its claws into her chest. Breathing erratic, she pushed the door open and stepped out into the next room.

“Hello?”

The word sounded like a mix between a croak and a cough. Kyla cleared her throat and tried again. “Is … is somebody there?”

Idiot! What will you do if someone says yes? Go back in the bedroom and call the police!

A reasonable suggestion, but Kyla couldn’t get her feet to obey. Because as she peered into the dark room, she realized someone was there. A form, silhouetted against the drapes over the french doors that led to the backyard.

A man.

Kyla felt a scream crawling past her fear, scrambling toward freedom. But
before it could escape, two things happened at once. The form took a step toward her—and something from behind the form flew screaming out of the darkness.

She just caught a glimpse of white, black, and tan leaping from the top of the draperies, and then, with a screech so unearthly it chilled her to the bone, the dervish was on the man’s head.

The man bellowed rage and pain, slamming back into the french doors. The draperies went flying, and another screech tore through the room. The bedeviled man grabbed at his attacker even as he fumbled with the french doors. Kicked at the bar holding them fast.

Then, suddenly, the doors were open—and the man was gone.

Gasping, still barely believing what had just happened, Kyla slapped at the wall switch behind her. Light flooded the room and her eyes widened as she realized what had attacked her invader.

There, on the floor, still spitting fury, legs stiff, hair puffed out like a demented porcupine, was Serendipity. Kyla ran to the cat, scooped her up, and pressed her to her chest. She half expected her to sink angry claws into her, but instead she just leaned against her, that deep purr rumbling in her chest, and bumped her head along her jaw.

Kyla could swear she was asking if she was okay.

Shaking so hard she almost couldn’t stand, she shoved the french doors closed and slid the lock into place. Then she forced her trembling legs to carry her through the house, double-checking each door. She sank onto the couch and buried her face in soft fur. Several gasping breaths later, reason returned. Cradling Serendipity in one hand, Kyla grabbed up the cordless phone from the coffee table and punched in 911.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emerg—?”

“There was a man in my home!”

“Was? Is he still there?”

“No.” Suddenly she was crying. Great heaving sobs. “No, my cat attacked him. She scared him off. I mean, I know it sounds crazy, but …” She wiped at her streaming eyes. “Please, please just send someone.”

The woman’s assurances that a squad car was already on its way were confirmed by the distant wail of a siren. The woman stayed on the line until a heavy pounding sounded on Kyla’s front door.

“Ma’am, the officers are there now. Go let them in, and then I’ll hang up.”

Kyla stood, not entirely certain her legs would support her. But they did, and she made her way to the front door. She pulled it open, and the two officers standing on her stoop were as welcome a sight as she’d ever seen. Thanking the woman dispatcher, she hung up—and promptly burst into tears.

An hour and a half later, Kyla was once again alone in her apartment.

Well, not entirely so. Her protector was there, too, weaving in and out between Kyla’s feet, purring up a storm.

Looking down at the now-content kitty, Kyla would never have imagined it could turn into a whirling dervish of claws and yowls. The memory of the police officers’ faces when Kyla explained what Serendipity had done still made Kyla smile. But traces of blood on Serendipity’s paw and on the curtains bore mute testimony to the cat’s prowess as a protector.

Kyla lifted the cat to her lap, giving those soft ears a gentle scratch. “Looks like God brought you to me for a reason, huh?” Serendipity leaned into her fingers, purr going double time. “Well, I think you deserve a treat.”

Scooping the cat into her arms. Kyla went to pull the container of cream out of the fridge. She filled a bowl, then set it and Serendipity on the floor. The cat didn’t hesitate. She started lapping up the cream with gusto.

Kyla leaned her elbows on the kitchen counter, watching Serendipity, pondering the night’s events. If only she could have seen who her intruder was, but she never got a clear look at his face. Of course, the fact that police found graffiti sprayed on the outside walls of her home was a pretty telling clue.

Kyla had gone outside with them to see the images. The number 22 was everywhere, along with other numbers she didn’t understand.

“Looks like gang tagging to me. Some kind of warning.” He nodded toward the spray-painted image in front of them. “The
22
refers to the gang itself, the—”

“The Blood Brotherhood,” Kyla supplied.

The officer glanced at her, interest in his blue eyes. “You know them?”

Kyla looked down. As much as she wanted the police to help, she didn’t want them linking her with the gang. Last thing she needed was a leak to the media about all of this. Neither she nor JuCo needed that kind of sensationalistic press.

When she met the officer’s eyes, she schooled her features into the epitome
of innocence. “I believe they’re a gang on the northwest side of town. A friend of mine attends a church in that area, and he’s mentioned them to me.”

“Hmm.” The officer looked less than convinced, but apparently decided not to push. Good thing. After all,
she
was the victim here! “Those other numbers? They’re from the Oregon penal code.”

Kyla frowned. “The penal code.”

“Yup. The codes for breaking and entering, and murde—”

“Jensen.”

They both turned at the warning tone. The other officer, clearly the elder of the team, was frowning at his younger partner. “Let’s not trouble Ms. Justice with unnecessary details tonight.”

Red tinged the man’s cheeks when he turned back to Kyla. “Oh. Right. Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Kyla waved her hand. “I’d say the intruder did that far more than anything you could say, officer.”

Pushing away from the counter, Kyla went to pull coffee from the cupboard. No way she was going to get any more sleep tonight. As she readied the coffee maker, she thought about the graffiti.

So, the 22s had left her a warning. The more she thought about that, the angrier she got.

Who did these people think they were? First the phone calls, and now breaking into her home, terrorizing her. She slammed a coffee cup down on the counter.

“Enough is enough!”

Spinning on her heel, Kyla marched to the phone, picked it up, and jabbed in a number. It was picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

She’d expected a sleepy voice. But Rafael didn’t sound as though he’d been any more asleep than she was. “I have something to tell you.”

There was a pause. “Kyla?”

“Yes, it’s Kyla.” Her heart pounded out a furious beat. “I want you to go tell your pals that it’s not going to work.”

“My pals? What pals? What are you—”

“Your gang buddies. The Blood Brotherhood. The 22s. The Dippity-Dos, for all I care. You tell them I’m not backing down.”

“The 22s are not my pals.”

“Look, I don’t need to hear your denials. You just let them know I don’t scare off. I’ve taken this job and I’m going to complete it. On time!”

“Kyla, what on earth—”

She slammed the phone back in its cradle.

When it rang a few seconds later, she turned her back on it and strode back to bed.

FORTY-TWO   

R
afe’s back was up.

He knew it, just as he knew he shouldn’t go to the construction site until he cooled off.

Tarik looked up from his bowl of cereal when Rafe walked into the kitchen, and his eyes widened a fraction. “I do somethin’ wrong?”

Rafe barely kept the irritation from his tone. “What? No, why?”

“ ’Cuz you look like you’re about to take my head off.” He dug a dripping spoonful from the bowl and chomped it down. “Jus’ wanted to know why before I died.”

Rafe grabbed the mug of coffee he’d just brewed and tossed back a swallow. First his tongue, and then his throat, wailed when the scalding-hot liquid hit.

“Prob’ly shoulda let that cool some, huh?”

He started to bark a response, then stopped. There were others far more deserving of his foul mood than Tarik.

The teen carried his now empty bowl to the sink. “Whatever she did that got you so salty, man, you best chill before you talk to her.”

Good counsel. Which he completely ignored.

By the time he drove to the church, he was ready to chew nails. And spit them out as tacks.

He found Kyla, deep in conversation with her foreman. He waited, aware she didn’t even realize he was there, just barely resisting the temptation to tap his cane on the new wooden floor of the sanctuary-turned-gymnasium. She finished the discussion and looked up. Their gazes collided—and her eyes went wide.

“Rafae—”

“We need to talk.”

“I know. I’m sorr—”

“Now.”

She fell into step beside him, not questioning when he directed them outside and across the street. Away from anyone who might overhear them. Not until they were far enough away to ensure privacy did he face her. “
What
was last night about?”

“I’ve been
trying
to explain.”

“Well, try harder.”

A deep red seeped into her cheeks, and he waited. Expecting an explosion. Instead, she looked away and sucked in a breath.

One beat. Two. Then she let the breath out and turned back to face him. “I’m sorry. I don’t blame you for being angry. I would be too if someone treated me the way I treated you last night.”

There were tears in her eyes! Rafe’s well-stoked anger fizzled, even as his concern came alive. “Kyla, please. What’s going on?”

“Someone broke into my home last night.”

The words, spoken in a hushed horror, rocked him. He listened as she went through it all, from waking up to the intruder to staying up all night after the police left. All of which explained not only the crazy call last night, but the exhaustion in the sag of her shoulders, the droop of her head. As he stood there, listening, watching her, one glaring truth speared him.

He was an idiot.

How could he not have realized something was seriously wrong? That Kyla wouldn’t make a call like she had last night without reason. Speaking of which …

“When you called last night, you said something about my pals.”

She passed a hand over eyes so weary it broke his heart. “The Blood Brotherhood. I know they’re not your pals, I was just—”

“Angry.”

“Frightened.” She looked away, fighting whatever emotions still assaulted her. “I was terrified.”

Rage surged through him again, but not for her. This time it was wholly aimed at whoever put that look of fear on this woman’s face. That man, whoever he was, would be sorry.

“Kyla, do you mind if I go by your place? Take a look around?”

She swallowed and shrugged. “Sure, go ahead. But why?”

He wanted to see for himself if the graffiti was signature 22. It seemed too convenient. Why, if the gang was involved, would they leave such a blatant calling card? But he didn’t want to tell Kyla that. Didn’t want to risk her thinking he didn’t believe her.

“I’d like to double-check a few things.”

“Like what?”

He considered a white lie. Saying he wanted to check her security. But only for a moment. “To see the graffiti for myself.”

Her brows drew together. “Because …?”

Rafe shifted. Well, no avoiding it now. “Because it doesn’t make sense. That the 22s would go that far off their turf. Not even to terrorize you.”

The storm he’d feared settled in those beautiful eyes, but only for a moment. Almost immediately something in her features shifted. “So you don’t think it was the gang?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’d like to check it out. I mean, think about it. The 22s are all about their territory. They don’t let others on it, and they don’t drift far from it.”

Doubt painted lines across her brow, and Rafe frowned. “What?”

“I … I don’t know. I just … the officer seemed so sure. Doesn’t it make more sense to trust a seasoned police officer? You are kind of …”

“Kind of?”

The words rushed out. “Young. Okay, there. I’ve said it. It’s simply common sense to trust an officer who’s been on the job awhile rather than a coffee barista barely out of his twenties.”

Barely out of his twenties? She was playing the
age
card? After all they’d gone through?