Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
EVERS
She turned her head—maybe to move away, maybe to say something—and my mouth grazed the warm skin at her temple. She went stiff for a heartbeat before she shifted to face me, lifting her face to mine, her eyes shadowed and impossible to read.
Following instinct, I dropped my mouth to hers in a soft, gentle kiss, giving her all the time in the world to move away.
"Summer," I breathed against her mouth, my lips brushing hers with a tenderness I'd never known until her. "I missed you so much."
Cupping her cheek in my hand, I deepened the kiss. She tasted the same. Better. Everything I remembered and more. I dropped my arm around her back, pulling her flush against me, the need inside me breaking through, pushing me to kiss her harder, to take more. To take everything.
The shrill of an alarm sliced through the heavy quiet in the kitchen. Summer stiffened, jumping back, her arms swinging wide in surprise and panic, knocking over the mugs and almost hitting the boiling kettle behind her.
I tugged her clear of the stove, letting go when she jerked from my grip and wrapped her arms across her chest. I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked the screen.
The perimeter alarm again. This time in the back of the property. A gate in the wall adjoining the neighboring lot. I pulled up Griffen's contact and called. Faster than running down the stairs.
"Where are you?" he demanded.
"Kitchen. I've got it."
"You sure?" he asked.
"I'm right by the door."
"Be careful. The camera can't get a solid view, but it's not Perry."
"Got it." I slid the phone in my pocket and looked up to see Summer watching me, her eyes wide with nerves and a hint of fear.
"Is it Clint again?"
"Someone's trying to get in the back gate. Tampering with the lock. We don't have a good angle on the camera, which means they know it's there. Griffen said it doesn't look like Clint."
"If it isn't Clint, who is it?"
"That's what I'm going to find out," I said, reaching behind me out of habit to check that my gun was in my holster. I pulled a small earpiece from my pocket and slipped it in my ear. Griffen popped online with, "Got me, boss?"
"Got you," I murmured back.
"Shouldn't you call the police? If someone's trying to break in?"
I resisted the urge to laugh. She was tense. Brittle. Break-ins and angry spouses weren't Summer's life.
"This is my job, Summer. I can handle it. Go to your room. There's nothing to worry about."
"I'll wait here. Go. I know you need to go. I'll be right here. Come tell me what happened so I know you're okay."
"I'll be right back. I promise."
I left Summer in the kitchen and raced to the side door of the house, headed straight for the wall surrounding the property. I was through the access door by the garage in less than a minute, sprinting down the length of the tall limestone wall as silently as possible.
In my ear, Griffen said, "Must have spooked him. He's taking off. Headed north along the wall."
A shadow moved ahead of me. A tree swaying in the breeze, a cloud passing in front of the moon, or my intruder. I put on an extra burst of speed.
"He's off the cameras. Last I saw he was still moving north along the wall but about twenty feet west, just out of range. He did recon."
Fuck. This was not looking like Clint Perry. Clint did not do recon. Clint Perry showed up at the gates with a sad bouquet of flowers looking like a kicked puppy. This was something else. Fucking fuck.
To my left, I caught movement in the dark. Definitely not Clint Perry. Shorter and leaner. And fast. Fucking fast. The figure took off, weaving through the trees, slipping in and out of the dappled moonlight, feet crunching branches.
I got close enough to see a flash of dark jeans. A black hoodie, a face white as a ghost. A mask. I was closing in, hand outstretched, thinking almost, almost when I was jerked off my feet, the rasp of rough fiber against my throat.
Experience and training served me well. I had my hand beneath the rope just before it drew tight, my feet leaving the ground as I was hauled up, too busy trying not to suffocate to track my assailants.
I managed to get my weapon back in its holster and my other hand beneath the rope, stretching the noose until I could breathe.
Amazing what a little oxygen can do for your outlook on life.
Sucking in deep breaths, I pulled at the noose, shoulders straining, body swinging wildly.
I tried to ignore the bite of the noose into the back of my neck, wincing as the rough fibers dragged at my skin, scraping my chin, my nose, until my head popped free, and I was dangling six feet above the ground.
Compared to almost dying by hanging, the drop wasn't a big deal.
I'd lost my earpiece. A quick look told me that I was out of range of the cameras and my target was gone.
I was alone, the woods around me silent but for the chirp of crickets and the faint rustle of leaves on the night breeze.
Reaching up, I rubbed the raw skin on my neck where the noose had pulled tight. My fingers came away sticky with blood.
I stood there for a second, getting my bearings, making absolutely sure I was alone.
There'd been two of them. One smart enough to stay off-camera.
They must have planned to use the rope to go over the wall if they couldn't get through the door.
When that plan hadn't worked, they'd been prepared to kill me.
I moved back in range of the cameras, giving a wave to let Griffen know I was all right. My trip back to the house was slower than my departure. I covered the distance in silence, using the shadows of the trees to hide, searching for any sign of the intruders. Nothing.
At the door to the garage, I called Griffen. "Lost my earpiece. Meet me in the kitchen."
"What happened?" Griffen asked, tension pulling the words tight.
"There were two of them. I was almost on the one at the gate when the second one got me. Tried to string me up. By the time I got free they were gone."
All Griffen said was, "Fuck."
My thoughts exactly. Summer was in the kitchen, exactly as I'd left her except for the steaming mugs of tea on the counter. When she spotted the smear of red on my fingers she sucked in a breath.
"What happened? You're hurt! Who the hell was out there?" Her voice rose in panic. The last thing I needed was for Cynthia to find out we'd had an intruder. I wanted to keep the client calm, not scare the hell out of her.
In a low voice, I said, "I'm fine. Don't wake Cynthia. She sees this, she'll panic."
"Did Clint hit you?"
Griffen pushed open the swinging door, took one look at me and said to Summer, "Would you get a wet towel?" To me, he said, "The back of your neck is a mess. Lean over so I can take a look."
I did, bracing my elbows on the kitchen island, dropping my head so Griffen could assess the damage. His fingers probing the raw, torn skin weren't gentle. I swore under my breath.
"It's a nasty scrape. Bloody, but you'll survive." I started to stand, and he said, "Stay there. I'll be right back with the first-aid kit."
"I don't need first aid," I grumbled.
I'd dump my head under some water to clean up the mess and I'd be fine. Summer wet a handful of paper towels in the sink and approached.
"Shut up and lean your head down so I can see."
I didn't know if I should be happy or terrified. Summer was going to put her hands on me. That put a checkmark in the happy column. On the other hand, I was bleeding, and she probably wanted revenge. I'd take whatever she dished out.
"Lean down more," she ordered, "you're too tall."
I did, and she dabbed at the raw skin on the back of my neck, cleaning away the sticky blood that had already started drying in my hair. Griffen came back and rummaged through the first-aid kit.
He handed a bottle to Summer. "Here, pour some of this on it."
Summer uncapped the brown plastic bottle and poured what I soon learned was peroxide over the back of my neck. Leaning over, her full breasts pressing against my arm, she blew gently on the torn skin. I'd get strung up on a tree limb any day for this kind of treatment.
"I don't understand why Clint would hit Evers," she said. "He hasn't been himself lately, but he's never hurt anyone. I know he plays a tough guy in the movies, but before he started drinking so much, he was a really sweet guy."
Before I could think better of it I said, "It wasn't Clint Perry."
Summer pulled back. At the loss of her heat, I almost let out a moan.
"I don't understand. If it wasn't Clint, then who was it?"
Griffen cleared his throat. Summer didn't take long to catch on. "You think this is about my dad. Or your dad."
"It's one explanation," I said, starting to stand.
She shot out a hand and pushed me back down. "Let me put some antibiotic on that."
If Summer was going to touch me again, I wouldn't argue. I stayed where I was as she smoothed antibiotic goop across the back of my neck with gentle fingers.
"It's not bleeding anymore." She unwrapped an oversize bandage from the first aid kit and pressed it over the worst of the scrape, asking, almost idly, "What did this?"
"Rope," I answered shortly.
Her hands fell away. "Rope? What do you mean? How could a rope have done this?"
"It was a noose," I clarified. I didn't want to tell her, didn't want to see horror spread across her face. "I'm fine."
"But you—" Her eyes fixed on my neck, her face pale. "They could have—"
"I'm fine," I said again. I wanted to wrap her in my arms, to show her how fine I was. Not the time. I settled for taking her hand and giving it a strong squeeze. "It takes a lot more than two guys and a rope to take me out."
"Not if they get lucky," she muttered darkly.
"They didn't."
Summer's eyes, heavy with concern, studied my face before she looked to Griffen then back at me. "You really think this has something to do with whatever our fathers are involved in, don't you?"
"We're still untangling the mess," I said. "We don't have the full picture yet, but what we do know…" I shook my head, thinking of the swamp of shit we'd uncovered. "We don't know who they were working with yet. I'm not sure I'm ready to find out."
Summer let out a long sigh, her shoulders slumping in exhaustion.
"My dad, he's just not that kind of guy, you know? He's unreliable and lazy. I can't see him being competent enough to get involved with anyone who's actually dangerous."
"I know," I said. "I know that's what you think. But the people we think our parents are? That's an illusion. It's what they want to show us. What we want to see. Sometimes there's a lot more beneath the surface. And sometimes it's all bad."