Chapter Nine
“I’m good here,” Camden said, much to Rochelle’s surprise. If she had family alive, her answer would be different. That was the not-so-funny part about life. You didn’t realize what you had until you lost it. Seven months ago, Rochelle had a mother. Two years ago, she had both parents. Now?
Orphan. Even as an adult who was more than capable of providing for herself and living her own life, the word stung.
The fact Camden wanted to be here meant more to her than she could afford to let on.
“Okay, then I’ll grab those blankets.”
Without waiting for a response, she headed toward her linen closet, where she kept spares.
After retrieving them, she handed them over.
Camden had already figured out the foldout part of the bed.
She hoped it wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.
He was probably being nice earlier when he said he could sleep on pretty much anything.
The thought of him in bed with another woman shouldn’t be a sucker punch.
The two of them weren’t in a relationship.
The events of the night had shaken her up. No one had ever come to her home to stake it out until she arrived. No one had ever fired at her in her own front yard. And no one had ever wanted her dead so badly.
An involuntary shiver rocked her body. She would attempt sleep after a shower. Given how much her mind was spinning right now, she highly doubted her racing thoughts would calm down enough for her to get any real rest. She’d give it the ole college try and see what happened.
“Coffee maker is in the kitchen,” she explained. “It takes pods. Everything you’ll need is within arm’s reach of the machine.”
“Got it,” he said as he took the blankets. Their fingers grazed, shooting an electric current through her hand and up her arm straight to her heart.
Nope. She couldn’t afford to give in to an attraction to this man even if he was game, which she highly doubted. They were both professionals. They cared about their careers. They cared about their reputations. If news of a fling got around, her credibility on the job would be compromised.
Rochelle couldn’t risk it no matter how much her traitorous heart argued otherwise. “I’ll leave my door open. Holler if you need me.” The open door was more for her benefit than his.
“Will I disturb you if I’m up and around?” he asked.
“Normally, I can sleep through a tornado.”
Camden nodded and smiled. “I promise to make less noise than that.”
Rochelle hesitated for a long moment before tucking her chin to her chest and then heading down the short hallway to her bedroom. After a quick shower, she slipped into an oversize Led Zeppelin concert T-shirt and pulled the covers up to her neck.
Sounds from the other room reassured her that someone was awake and alert. Having Camden here calmed her racing mind. Before she realized, she’d dozed off.
Ringtones jarred her from a deep sleep. Rochelle bolted upright. Feet on the floor, she threw covers off and tried to get her bearings as panic took hold.
The phone. It was only her cell.
She blindly reached for the noisemaker on the nightstand. Her hand swept over the alarm, knocking it off. Cool. Smooth move.
In the next second, a tall male figure blanketed the doorway. Camden.
The light flipped on a moment later.
“Everything alright in here?” he asked, a concerned look darkening his features as he drew his eyebrows together.
“Phone,” she said, able to see clearly as she snatched it. The call rolled into voice mail before she could answer. Time read: 6:12 a.m. She muttered a curse. “It’s my supervisor.”
Camden took the couple of steps to close the distance between them. The mattress dipped underneath his weight as he sat next to her on the bed. Rochelle’s pulse raced as she breathed in his warm, spicy masculine scent. Heat pooled low in her belly as the insides of her thighs flamed.
Rochelle glanced down, realized her T-shirt had come up on her thighs, revealing her purple silk panties. With her free hand, she pulled her shirt down her legs to cover.
Once the voice mail was finished, she tapped the screen, held up her phone for facial identity software to confirm her, and then tapped again until she could read the voice mail. If her supervisor was in a mood and yelled at her, she preferred to read the message rather than hear a voice.
Victim number two has been identified and located. Same MO. I’m sending over details. However, the body is being transported back to Austin as I leave this message.
Camden’s muscled arm touched hers as he leaned in to get a better look at the screen. “Damn.”
“I know,” she said as her heart went out to the victim and her family. More lives were going to be ruined. Molly Rancor had been a missing person. Now, she would be identified forever as a murder victim.
Rochelle couldn’t help but think about the brutality Izzy had suffered at the hands of this killer—a killer that was coming for her.
She mentally shook off the thought and called her supervisor. “What time with the victim’s body be returned to Austin?”
“The estimate is noon,” her supervisor said.
Barron Vandergrift sounded more like a prep-school name than someone who dedicated their life to law enforcement.
But the name was where the prep-school fantasy ended.
Barron was as tough as they came. Middle-aged with a ruddy complexion, he’d joked more than once about letting down his parents with his chosen career field.
Rochelle picked up right away on the hint of shame he carried by not being what his parents expected.
If he was going to uphold the law, they’d nudged him toward CIA.
Barron laughed when he told Rochelle the story that came up any time she faced disappointed parents in her line of work.
He’d been quick to point out that he had a beautiful wife and three amazing kids.
The tradeoff, he’d said, had been worth it.
Rochelle had never fantasized about having a family of her own and she refused to accept any societal expectations that said otherwise.
She was a fully functioning capable woman who’d chosen a career as a detective.
“Could be sooner.” Barron’s words cut through her reverie.
“Okay,” Rochelle said, the back of her mind devising a schedule for the day with this new information.
“I like this situation even less after what happened last night,” Barron said.
“Agreed.” What else could she say?
“Are you certain that you don’t need time?” he continued. “Seven months isn’t long in the grand scheme of life.” He paused. “What do you think about revisiting the idea of you seeing Dr.—”
“I’m good,” she said, interrupting. “We’ve already covered this ground. The best thing anyone can do for me is allow me to do my job. Last I checked, I was still good at it.”
“You’re one of my best detectives.” The compliment from Barron meant the world to her. He wasn’t one to hand them out freely. In fact, he wasn’t one to hand them out at all.
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
“Which is precisely the reason I don’t want to lose you,” he added.
“If I think I’m in trouble, I’ll reach out,” she promised.
Her answer seemed to satisfy Barron. He grunted and then mumbled a goodbye. The man had a reputation for getting straight to the point. No argument there.
“Not to jump on a bandwagon, but I don’t like the fact a perp went to the trouble of waiting for you at your home,” Camden said after a long pause.
“If you’re about to tell me to seek counseling, then—”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I was about to ask you if you wanted to move in with me until we finish the investigation.”
Rochelle didn’t see that question coming. Her heart fluttered like a schoolgirl with a crush.
Fool heart. Would it get her into trouble with this man?
Camden waited for Rochelle’s response. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she answered.
“Yes, that’s probably a good idea,” she said. “I just hate the thought of anyone running me out of my own home.”
He understood. “It’s temporary. Just until we put this bastard behind bars.”
“Are you convinced the person from last night is tied to this case?”
“We won’t know for sure until he’s locked up, will we?” he asked.
She heaved a sigh. “I guess not.”
“I’d rather not risk it,” he said. “Next time, he will be more prepared.”
Rochelle got quiet. It meant she was thinking. “You’re right. I shouldn’t risk my life over pride.”
“Pack a bag and we’ll head to my place,” he said. “We have time for you to unpack.”
“Think we can stop by Kage’s place on the way?”
Camden nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“We can talk on the way over.” With that, she stood up and retrieved a suitcase from the closet.
Camden forced his gaze away from the silky skin of her thighs—thighs that were almost entirely exposed.
His brain was still trying to force thoughts of how amazing those purple panties of hers would feel in his hands as he removed them from her body.
Camden swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in his throat.
The best way to distract himself from thinking about how incredible having sex with Rochelle would be was to refocus on the case or check on his grandparents.
Speaking of whom, he needed to check on one of his buddies.
Ace Kendric had saved Camden’s life by jumping in front of a moving vehicle to knock Camden out of the way.
The move had cost Ace his career by shattering his ankle.
His friend had gone through surgery like a champ and he had moved to Mesa Point permanently after falling in love with someone who inherited a building from her aunt. Kayleigh Price had been the perfect person to see Ace through his recovery.
Camden fired off a text to check on his buddy and the business he’d started with his new wife.
Wife. Camden never thought he’d be thinking that word when it came to Ace.
People changed. Hell, everything changed.
Change was the only constant. It still caught you by surprise with certain folks. Ace was one of them.
A response came quickly.
When are you coming home?
Camden studied the screen. He sent a message back. Still not sure. Soon.
Okay then. We’ll grab a beer.
Camden couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out for a beer after work with a coworker. Too long. Ever?
I’m gonna hold you to it.
Ace responded: Good. ’Bout time.
Rather than dig into what that was supposed to mean, Camden caught up on the updates on his grandparents in the family’s group chat.
Grandpa Lorenzo, affectionally known as Grandpa Lor, was as spry as ever.
Mentally fine but physically weak. There’d been no change with Grandma Lacey.
Damn. His grandfather was in physical therapy twice a day.
Called them two-a-days, like in football.
Seemed like his sense of humor was intact.
Then again, he’d always been as stubborn as he was strong.
He would think he needed to come across as able to handle anything.
Like, the accident was just a blip. No one should worry about him or Grandma Lacey.
Camden wondered if he’d ever seen his grandfather let down his guard. Could the man keep up the facade if he lost his wife?
While Rochelle finished packing, Camden figured he could drum up some food and get to-go coffee cups going. After mentioning he’d be in the kitchen, Rochelle bit down on her bottom lip.
“Would you mind staying in here?” she asked. “My mind is spinning and having another person in the room has a calming effect.”
Camden agreed, not mentioning how being in the same room with her had the opposite effect on him. It stirred up more than his body.
Refocusing on his cell, he sent an update to his SO and then responded to the messages in the family group chat.
“I’ll be ready as soon as I change clothes,” Rochelle said after a few minutes passed.
She held up an outfit and then ducked inside the en-suite bathroom.
A few minutes later, she emerged wearing jeans, a blouse, and her shoulder holster.
She slipped her feet into a pair of boots before rolling her suitcase into the living room as he followed.
“I packed enough for a couple of days, just in case.”
“We can always come back for more if needed,” he reassured her. “Plus, I have a washer and dryer in my town house.”
“Good,” she said. “My favorite coffee place is a few blocks away. They have killer breakfast tacos.” She seemed to regret her word choice immediately after she said the word killer.
“Breakfast tacos sound good,” he said. “Do you want me to drive this time?”
“Since someone might be watching me, that’s probably a good idea,” she said. “Might be a good way to throw them off track if they come back and see my vehicle here.”
He’d take anything that could buy more time. “Then, it’s a plan.”
Camden took her suitcase after throwing on a shirt and toeing on his boots.
He walked out to the truck first, started the engine, and then waved for her to join him.
There was no sense testing their luck or giving the bastard a shot if he’d returned.
Though, Camden doubted the shooter would come back this fast. He would have to realize her place would be watched.
It took a helluva brazen person to go after someone in law enforcement.
So Camden wouldn’t take anything for granted.
When their cells buzzed at almost the same time, he realized bad news was coming. Since he didn’t want to sit in front of her house, he pulled away. “What does yours say?”
Rochelle’s gaze swept the area before she turned her full attention to the screen.
“There’s been another missing-person report.
Shiloh Johnson was last heard from while at a Laundromat.
” Rochelle issued a frustrated sigh. “Hold on. Let me check the map.” She released a string of curses.
“The victim was last seen near Kage’s apartment. ”
Coincidence?
“We’re definitely stopping by,” Camden said. “What’s the name of the Laundromat?”
“Spin Cycle,” she replied as she read more of the message.
Breakfast tacos would have to wait.