Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Keira
My house was quiet as I went inside and turned off my security system. I was ready to get cozy, put something mindless on TV, and hopefully drift off without too much sleeplessness tonight.
Tossing my keys on the table, I stripped off my jacket, then my holster and gun. The handgun went in my lockbox in a kitchen cabinet, where I usually stored my service weapon at home. I had a personal gun locked in a safe in my bedroom too. As a cop, I appreciated always having a weapon close.
Had that been the case since I’d started this job? Honestly, I couldn’t remember. But maybe I’d gotten more cautious over the last couple years in particular. Not so optimistic and dreamy-eyed.
Heartache could do that to a girl.
I switched on the lights in the kitchen, then grabbed a pot and set it on the stove. Some warm, spicy chai. That was what I needed.
While I stirred in milk and the spice mix, I checked my phone. Vivian and Stephie were home safe and sound. Steph had even shared a few details about the rest of the date.
Stephie
The guys are really sweet. We might go out with them again. Maybe one of them has an annoying older brother for you?
I smiled as I sent a message back, telling her goodnight.
After the chai was ready, I added a little bourbon. Then snuggled on my couch and turned the TV on low.
Yet even sitting here curled up with a throw blanket over my lap and my hands around a warm mug of sweet milky tea, I felt an ache for the things I didn’t have.
Maybe I should’ve tried harder to date. I could’ve accepted the drink from that guy at the bar earlier. Gone home with him… spent the night.
Why didn’t I want that? Why did this empty space inside me have the exact shape and feel of the person who didn’t want me? Who hadn’t even cared enough about my friendship to stay in my life.
It wasn’t like Dean and I never had any contact. We were on a group text thread. Just a few weeks ago, Aiden had shared the latest picture of his and Jessi’s baby girl, Zoe. Dean and I had each given the picture a heart and said she was precious.
But we didn’t talk directly anymore. We used to be close. Maybe not best friends, but tight. Now, he felt like somebody I’d known in high school. Somebody who’d shared a brief part of my history, but who was essentially a stranger now.
Two years should’ve been enough to get over him. And yet it wasn’t. It was just enough for all those feelings I’d had for him to turn bitter. Like a jar sitting on the shelf too long and going rancid.
Damn, I sounded cynical.
I set down the tea and flopped backward on the couch, wishing I’d kissed him just once before he left so I’d know what it was like. Would that be better, the knowing? Or worse?
He was probably an amazing kisser. Giving and careful in bed with a woman, at least at first, and then later he would turn those intense blue eyes on her and pull her so close she could hardly breathe, and then…
“Why?” I asked the quiet room. “Why do I do this to myself? How am I this pathetic?”
My own little sister was going out on dates with cute ranch hands, while I was alone. The only thing that had made my heart race lately was an asshole podcaster harassing a server.
What was wrong with me?
I grabbed my phone, wanting to hurl it across the room even though it hadn’t done anything. Because his name was in there. His messages. I’d saved every one like they mattered, and they didn’t.
I didn’t matter to him.
I had to make him stop mattering to me.
Opening my contacts, my finger hovered over the option to block his number. For long seconds, I stared at it. Wondering if this was petty. But then, who the hell cared if it was petty? I was a twenty-eight-year-old woman living my life and doing what I wanted.
Also, I was maybe just a little bit tipsy on bourbon-laced chai.
Snickering to myself, I blocked Dean’s number and tossed my phone on the coffee table. Triumph surged through me. Who needed men, anyway?
What I needed was to take a nice, long bath, listen to music, and read one of my favorite books. That would set me right up. Then I could sleep late tomorrow and be ready to go back on duty for my next shift.
I set my mug in the kitchen after downing the last of the spiked chai, switching off the TV and the lights on my way to my bedroom. There, I pulled off my sweater.
My reflection in the window winked at me. I was undressing, and the curtain was open.
I couldn’t see anything outside in the darkness, but I heard a faint sound.
Probably a howl from a neighbor’s dog or a coyote.
My neighbors’ houses were close enough to be within sight from the front, but only woods lay behind my home.
Something I loved during the day when I could look out and see the trees or take a walk, breathing in nature.
Nobody’s out there, I thought to myself.
Marching over, I pulled the curtains closed. No need to put on a show, even if it was just for the bears and mountain lions and nocturnal critters.
I turned on the taps in the bathtub, adjusting the temperature until steam began to rise. While the water filled, I lit a candle on the edge of the tub.
I stripped off the rest of my clothes and stepped into the water, the heat immediately melting the tension in my shoulders. Sinking down until the water reached my chin, I closed my eyes and let out a long breath.
When I reached over and turned off the taps, the sudden quiet was broken only by the gentle lap of bathwater against the sides of the tub.
The old pipes in the wall clanked and settled. Normal sounds. Familiar sounds.
So why did the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up?
I opened my eyes fully, staring at the open bathroom door. Beyond it, my bedroom was quiet. Everything was fine. I was being ridiculous, letting paranoia get the better of me.
I closed my eyes again and slid deeper into the water.
There was a loud crash.
I gasped and sat up, water running down my bare skin. All I heard now was the sound of my own breath and the water sloshing against the tub.
Where the hell had that come from?
It had sounded nearby.
Maybe inside the house.
I got out of the bath, water streaming off me and pooling on the tile. Grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself. Dashed into my bedroom, my wet feet leaving prints on the carpet. The door to the hall was cracked open, just the way I’d left it earlier, and the hall beyond was dark.
My dresser drawer made a dragging sound as I yanked it open. Tossing the towel aside, I pulled on a tee and sweats, my hands shaking so badly I could barely manage the drawstring.
My gun. I needed my gun. And what about the security system? Shit, had I turned it back on after I got home?
My fingers felt numb as I unlocked the safe where I kept my personal weapon. I checked it quickly, my training taking over even as fear coursed through me.
The metallic slide as I chambered a round made a sharp, definitive sound that seemed to echo in the silent room.
Then I grabbed for my phone where I’d tossed it on the bed, ready to call dispatch. But there was no signal. Next I checked my security app, but it came back with an error message.
I had no cell signal. No internet. Hell. This could not be good.
My breath came fast and shallow. I forced myself to slow down, to think. The smartest thing to do would be to get out of the house. But if there was someone waiting outside, ready to grab me?
No way. I was going to fight.
Padding on the rug to my bedroom door, I listened with my gun ready, finger alongside the trigger guard.
I eased the opening in the doorway wider and stepped out. There was a window to my left, closed. An open door across the hall, which led to the small laundry room. Nobody inside. Just the dark shapes of the washer and dryer.
The rest of the hallway stretched before me, leading to the living room.
My vision adjusted slowly to the darkness. Every muscle in my body was taut, ready to spring. I stepped forward carefully, my bare feet silent on the carpet, gun aimed forward as blood rushed in my ears.
I reached the mouth of the hallway. Cold air flowed around my feet, raising goosebumps on my bare legs. Fear washed over me, my brain turning strangely blank, everything slowing.
A figure stood in the kitchen.
The man was wearing a mask. A hideous, demonic face. A nightmare. His arms were down, no weapon visible. But still, the sight of him awakened a terror I’d never experienced.
Another split second passed, slow as an eternity, before the moment broke open and I could move again.
“Police,” I shouted, my voice surprisingly steady. “Get down on the ground, hands where I can see them!”
Movement on my periphery. Shit. Shifting, I turned and saw another masked intruder stepping out of the shadows near the coat closet.
A muzzle flash lit up the room like lightning. The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space, a thunderclap that made my ears ring. At the same instant, fire tore through my left side, just below my ribs.
The impact spun me halfway around. Pain sliced along my side. I fired back. My gun bucked in my hand. I heard a shout as I tried to back away, tried to retreat to the hallway where I’d have cover.
I didn’t make it.
The next bullet caught me higher, punching into my chest and driving me backward into a wall. My legs gave out. The gun slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor.
The world tilted and spun.
I tried to move, tried to reach for my weapon, but my body wouldn’t respond. Pain and heat and cold took over my senses.
Then the night closed in around me, and I felt nothing at all.