Chapter 24
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J essica stormed through the door into Martin’s apartment with a broom, mop, and dustpan but looked more ready for war than cleaning. “That asshole!”
“Is that the best you can do?” Brynn asked.
Oliver set down the garbage can he carried and waved a hand as though directing traffic. “Don’t encourage her. All the way across town, she was shouting and calling him things I didn’t even know she knew.”
Brynn laughed. She dumped a dustpan filled with glass into a large cardboard box. The damage was bad, but not as bad as it looked. Tate had played frisbee with the kitchen dishes and glassware, breaking mirrors and even the glass shower door in the master bedroom.
Even though the police had taken pictures of the wreckage, she’d taken her own and saved them to a flash drive for Martin. He’d need documentation for an insurance claim and a civil suit if he decided to really hold Tate accountable.
She looked around the room at the shrinking mess. They were making headway bit by bit.
Tucker jerked the marble rolling pin free from the remnants of a large-screen television. It would have to be carried out and thrown in the dumpster behind the apartment complex. The rolling pin was still in one piece, so he carried it into the kitchen and set it on the counter.
The leather couch and chairs were still whole and unscathed, as was Martin’s saltwater aquarium with its colorful fish. The coffee table and end tables were scratched and gouged, and one still had a ten-inch carving knife embedded in it, but they could be repaired.
As Tucker drew the knife from the table, it screeched, and Martin, standing close by, flinched.
A glass-doored display cabinet stood open. Tucker picked up the heavy glass object Tate had been taunting him with. Brynn realized it was an etched glass award for an article Martin had written for a fashion magazine. It had somehow survived the mayhem. He put the award on the center of one of the shelves of the cabinet and walked around the room looking for other things that might have been displayed there.
The way he’d handled himself during the altercation with Tate…the way he had taken him down and pinned him to the floor…had been impressive. He’d learned those moves through his training, she was sure. But it wasn’t his skills that drew her in and made it impossible for her to ignore his presence in the room. It was something more. Something that made every nerve in her body light up with desire. But that something had a kernel of fear settling in the pit of her belly.
Why couldn’t she ever do anything easily?
She shifted her focus to Martin, who was progressively moving even slower than he had when he’d first arrived home. She approached him. “Have you taken something for the pain?”
There was a touch of bitterness in his tone when he answered, “The doctor gave me something at the hospital, but it’s wearing off. It seems Tate emptied my entire medicine cabinet into the toilet. I’m certain he probably stole the four-year-old Oxy that the doctor prescribed me when I broke my ankle skiing long before now.”
What had made Martin think he could save Tate? His beautiful pale blue eyes avoided looking directly at her. Surely, he wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed about what had happened…?
“I have some pain medication in my medicine cabinet, and I have a guest room where you can lie down while we finish cleaning up.”
“The super said he’d be back up to fix the door and install a new doorknob and lock. I’d rather stay in my own apartment. I refuse to be chased out.”
“I’ll go get the pain meds then. There’s no reason for you to hurt while you’re being stubborn.”
That coaxed a small smile from him.
“You’re the most generous and loving person I’ve ever met, Martin. He never deserved you.”
“No, he didn’t.” He didn’t sound bitter now, just tired.
She set aside the broom. “I’ll be right back.” She’d get him a few of the pain pills, and though he’d been cleared by the EMTs, he needed to see his doctor.
Tucker carried the trashed flat screen down the hall while Oliver followed with several garbage bags. They got on the elevator.
She rushed back with the medication, gave it to Martin, then went into his bedroom. Tate had poured shampoo and anything else he could find on the bedclothes. She put the sheets and comforter he’d cut into ribbons with a kitchen knife into a trash bag and systematically wiped off the oak headboard, nightstand, and other furniture. She found clean sheets in the hall closet and made the bed.
The tempered glass of the shower door had shattered into tiny pieces. So, she swept it up and deposited it in the large trash can Oliver had brought. Opening the laundry hamper, she found a single pillowcase and reached for it. It was unusually heavy. Looking inside, she found watches, a few chains, and several rings. Tate had obviously been going to steal the jewelry. Feeling that Martin’s privacy had been invaded enough for one night, she placed the items on the dresser and tossed the pillowcase back into the hamper.
She added the comforter and sheets to the list of damaged and destroyed items on the kitchen counter, then approached Martin as he put the few items salvaged from the wreckage in the living room back in the glass-fronted cabinet.
“I thought you might want to lie down for a little while, so I’ve made the bed and cleaned the bathroom. The shower door will have to be removed and replaced, but I have a shower curtain and rod you can use until they’re repaired.”
“Thanks, Brynn.”
Oliver and Tucker came back into the apartment.
Martin laid a hand on her shoulder. “How ’bout you pick my next boyfriend? You’ve got a really good guy there.”
“I know. And if I run into his gay cousin, I’ll be sure to introduce you.”
Martin’s brows rose though the movement was bound to hurt. “He has a gay cousin?”
Brynn laughed. “I have no idea, but I’ll be sure to ask.”
She scanned the room, which was now cleaned and straightened. The coffee table and end tables were the worst for wear, but everything else looked usable. The barren spot where the flat screen had been mounted on the wall stood out, but the smaller television in the bedroom had managed to escape destruction and would provide him some entertainment while he healed.
However, there were mirrors, beautiful paintings, original watercolors, and oils that had been ripped from the walls and torn to pieces. Those things were irreplaceable.
She knew all too well how Martin felt because she’d experienced the shock, the loss, and the grief of having her possessions, her keepsakes crushed, and her hard work destroyed.
Tucker draped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.
“I’m going to give the place a once-over with the vacuum just to make sure we caught everything,” Jess said as she went to the hall closet.
“I’m going to order pizza for everyone. It’s the least I can do with all the help you’ve given me,” Martin said. “Any preferences for toppings?”
“I like it all,” Jess said.
“Ditto,” Brynn said.
“No Anchovies,” Oliver said.
“I agree with that,” Tucker said.
“I have fixings for a salad. I’ll make one to go with the pizza and some sweet tea,” Brynn said.
“I can help with that,” Tucker said.
“Thanks for volunteering,” she said.
They wandered over to her apartment, and she unlocked the door. Striding inside, she caught an unfamiliar scent and paused. “Do you smell something?”
“Yeah, it smells like—oil. Motor oil,” Tucker said.
“I haven’t had any motor oil in my apartment.”
Tucker checked the bottoms of his boots and shook his head.
What else could happen today? She looked around the room, searching for anything out of place. The camera she’d used to take pictures of Martin’s apartment was sitting on the end of the cabinet, close to the edge, instead of next to her computer where she’d left it. She’d never leave it on the edge of anything. It was her right arm. “My camera’s been moved.”
“Stay here, and let me do a walk-through.”
“No, I’m coming with you. I’ll be able to tell if anything has been moved or taken.”
“Stay behind me,” Tucker said.
She followed him across the living room and down the hall. He paused to open the hall closet/laundry door, then peered into the small bathroom. Her bedroom looked untouched as did her bathroom. She opened the cabinets where she stored her cameras, lights, and tripods. Everything seemed fine. As they returned to the living room, she eyed the cabinets beneath the television and moved to check each one. Everything seemed in place. Except… She opened the small file box in which she stored her SD cards. It was empty. “They’ve stolen my SD cards.”
She rushed to open her laptop, and for a moment, prickles of fear raced up the back of her neck. Her fingers flew as she typed in her password and went online. Seeing the folders there, untouched in her online storage program, relief flooded her, and she released the breath she was holding. If anyone had been in the apartment, they’d have taken her computer or tried to delete the photo files or access her online storage to delete them. Everything she owned was password protected, but it only took one savvy tech guy to destroy years of work—as Chad had done.
She shuddered at the thought.
“Everything okay?” Tucker asked.
“Yes. I just got a little spooked.”
“While you have your computer up, can you show me the photos you took to the cops?” he asked.
She clicked a folder on her desktop and opened it. Then, she clicked on the first photo.
Tucker braced a hand on her desk and leaned over to study the photo. “Jesus, Brynn! How did you get this image out of some random shots?”
“I ran it through a program that increases the pixels. It’s similar to the software that hospitals use to clarify scans.”
“This is amazing. The cops are going to be all over that boat.”
“I hope they are.” She slid open the bottom drawer of her workstation and froze. An electric feeling of shock charged through her, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. “My-my SSD is gone. Every website I’ve worked on, every design I’ve done, every photo I’ve taken, every podcast I’ve recorded in the last three years is on that drive.”
“You have them saved off-site.”
“Yes, of course, but…” Her stomach turned, and she felt almost sick. This was her work, her business. The damage they could do… She dropped her head in her hands as a fresh wave of anxiety hollowed her belly.
Tucker laid a hand on her shoulder, and it took her a moment to control her expression before she looked up.
“Pack whatever you need for tomorrow, including any of the equipment you want to take. I want you to stay with me.”
She closed the laptop and rose.
“We’ll figure out what to do later.”
That one word we’ll landed on her heart, and she struggled to maintain her composure. She turned to lean against him and breathed in the masculine scent that was distinctly him.
As he held her, his arms provided the haven she needed.
“It’s going to be okay, Brynn.”