Chapter Two
M?RTEN FOLLOWED THE woman up five flights of stairs to the top floor, watching with interest as she retrieved a baseball bat from the third landing.
Had she chased the man using that as a weapon?
His respect for her went up a few notches.
Now, she hovered by the open doorway; her determined footsteps faltered.
He’d seen enough cases of people in shock to know what it looked like, and this woman was definitely suffering the effects, even if she was trying to hide it.
She’d been as white as a ghost after he’d returned from chasing the felon, and her hands had been shaking badly before she tucked them in her pockets.
Reality might be setting in now, but a few moments ago she’d shown just how kick-ass she could be when she’d run after that guy down the stairs and out into the street without a thought to her own safety.
Courageous as well as a tad foolish. He wondered what she would’ve done if he hadn’t stepped in her way.
How long would she have hunted the thief down the street?
And what would’ve happened if she’d caught him?
He shuddered to think. That robber could have been carrying a knife, or even a gun.
Perhaps it was destiny that he’d been on the street at that exact moment.
M?rten had been taking an evening stroll, checking out the neighborhood, and giving his friends, Jacob and Nikki, some time to themselves.
Even though they continued to tell him how welcome he was in their house, their love affair was still fresh, and they could barely keep their hands off each other, although they tried to hide it whenever he was in the room.
Jacob had given him an appreciative tilt of the head when M?rten had said he needed some fresh air and that he’d be back in a couple of hours; he could just imagine they’d made a beeline for the bedroom as soon as he’d shut the front door.
His visit was almost at an end, and he was due to fly back to Sweden in four days.
This was his first trip to the US, and the three of them had had a great time doing the tourist thing, even flying down to Las Vegas for a quick weekend jaunt.
M?rten had been surprised at how beautiful and unaffected the state of Washington was.
The real reason for M?rten’s visit was never discussed, however; to check out this woman who’d lured Jacob away from his family, friends and career.
But he could find no fault in her. As a matter of fact, M?rten was trying not to be jealous of his friend and ex-police partner’s good luck.
Nikki was an amazing person, and Jacob was lucky to have found her, even if he’d had to move halfway across the globe to be with her.
Less than six months ago, Nikki had been the target of two hitmen, who’d been trying to stop her testifying in a court case against Diàoyú, a Chinese fish farming company.
Thanks to Jacob’s heroics, she’d survived to give her evidence, but they still hadn’t tracked down the ultimate villain responsible for ordering the hit on her life, which was both frustrating and annoying.
But after all they’d been through together, it wasn’t surprising they’d discovered love along the way.
So, it was indeed mere coincidence that M?rten had been walking down this exact street at this exact time.
He’d seen the man in the hoodie dashing out of the door right in front of him and had stopped and turned to see what he was up to when the woman had careened into him, both of them ending up in a heap on the pavement.
He disliked being taken by surprise. Being a trained cop, he looked unprofessional at the very least. And it was one reason he’d offered to go upstairs with Summer, to atone for his lack of awareness and reaction to a sudden threat.
A reason, but not the only one. She might’ve been putting on a brave face, but he could recognize vulnerability and fear when he saw it.
She was in need of protection right now, and he was just the guy to give it.
It didn’t matter that she had an alluring, sultry pout to her mouth that intrigued him.
Nope. That had nothing to do with why he followed her pert, jean-clad backside up the stairs. Nothing at all.
“I’ll go in first, if you like,” he offered, seeing her hesitate.
“No, it’s fine.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, tossing her long ebony ponytail over her shoulder.
She was petite, small and slim, the top of her head not quite reaching the middle of his chest, dressed casually-hip in a black leather jacket over blue jeans and white Adidas.
Downstairs, she’d stared up at him with dark, haunted eyes.
But even in the face of her trauma, he’d noticed how sensuous those eyes were, causing his heart to kick like a mule behind his rib cage.
He’d heard her give her name to the police on the phone as Summer Pérez, and he guessed she was of Latino heritage.
He liked her determination. Liked that she was prepared to chase a criminal into the street in pursuit of her property.
She seemed distressed at the loss of the camera, and it made him wonder why it held such value for her.
Following close behind, he turned into her apartment and was shocked to see the complete state of disarray.
She wasn’t wrong when she’d said the burglar had trashed the place.
Immediately, his instincts were on high alert.
It was unusual for a mere thief to cause this much damage.
This person was either looking for something or making a statement. Or perhaps both.
Summer kicked half-heartedly at some of the debris scattered on the rug with the toe of her Adidas and stared forlornly at the mess. She bent down to pick up an overturned plant pot, and he shook his head. “No, leave everything just as it is, so the police can see what happened.”
“Oh, really?” She recoiled and stood up quickly.
“I know your first impulse is to clean up, but trust me on this matter.”
Her cheeks had regained some of their pink quality on the way up the stairs, but now all color again drained from her face, as she took in the utter destruction of her home for the second time.
M?rten laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, the leather jacket butter-soft beneath his palm. She turned to stare up at him.
“Thanks,” she said. “I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t,” he replied as he raked his gaze across the ruined apartment.
It was compact. He noted the floor-to-ceiling corner windows would let in copious amounts of light during the day, and even at night still afforded a lovely view over the rooftops and down the street all the way to the bay and the city lights twinkling in the distance.
This large room comprised what would have been a cozy sitting area, decorated with natural fibers, and muted, warm colors.
But now, all the cushions were scattered haphazardly around the space, smashed glass trinkets lay on the floor, and upturned plant pots had spread dirt in every direction.
In amongst the mess he could see a bicycle on a stand had been tipped over.
A full kitchen filled the section to his left as they walked in the door, with state-of-the-art appliances and stone countertops.
He also noted a corridor and assumed it led to a bedroom and a bathroom.
“Come on, let me make you a coffee,” he offered, steering her behind the kitchen bench, and flicking the switch on the machine.
“Where are your mugs?” he asked, opening a cabinet next to his head.
“Up there.” She pointed to the second cupboard along, but didn’t move to give him a hand.
She had a glazed, vacant look that so many victims took on.
Shock turning to dismay as she processed everything that’d happened.
M?rten knew that a hot, sweet drink often helped in cases like this.
A dash of something harder also wouldn’t hurt, but after opening a few more cupboards he gave up looking for alcohol.
He busied himself making them both a coffee, monitoring her in his peripheral vision.
When he and Jacob had worked together, Jacob had accused M?rten of being the good cop in their partnership.
The one who kept a cool head and was always easygoing, while Jacob was the brash, reckless one.
M?rten wasn’t sure he agreed with his friend’s assertion; M?rten could be just as uncompromising and even violent if the situation called for it.
But he also understood that compassion and empathy got you equally as far in the long run.
It was one reason he’d joined the police force, wanting to help people who were in trouble.
Wanting to right the wrongs in this world.
His older brother, Erik, had once told him he had an unhealthy compulsion to fix other people’s problems, but he preferred to think of it as having a strong moral compass.
He liked to be of service. But really, it was just a nice thing to do—make this poor woman a hot drink and try and take her mind off the terrible catastrophe that was her apartment.