Part 13 (1/2)
Good question. But what really unnerved him was that Janet had been on the receiving end, not him. The only thing keeping him halfway calm was that she was all right.
He squatted in front of her and picked a couple flakes of cardboard out of her hair, wondering how much of an argument she was going to put up when he suggested she see a doctor. ”You're right. It looks like it was rigged to blow open the box and release whatever gas knocked you out. It had some sort of timer.”
”Why? Who have you been p.i.s.sing off?”
”I don't know.” Not for sure. The box had been sent to him with no return address-he'd seen that much before Janet had taken it from his hands. And he'd seen enough of its contents just now to know someone had intended to either knock him out or worse. He wasn't sure why, but he could make a good guess about who.
The obvious answer was one of the shady characters he'd been in touch with recently. Not the sleazy bottom-feeder at Lost and Found Treasures; the man couldn't have tracked him down that fast even if he had a reason, which he didn't. It would have to be from his visit to the Detroit Barber Shop. He'd given Vasili no reason to attack him; if anything, the local representative of the Russian Mafia was a little too fond of him. And his a.s.sociates would never act without his approval. There'd been no potential for conflict in that visit, except for- ”d.a.m.n. Easy Joey.”
She looked up from brus.h.i.+ng off the shredded flakes clinging to her s.h.i.+rt. ”Who?”
”A guy I ran into yesterday. Pretty good burglar, pretty lousy human being. He's invented some vendetta, and thinks he needs to steal something from me. He's all att.i.tude and ego, but probably clever enough to rig a device like this. Except I don't see what good it would do him to knock me unconscious.”
A second later, he did. A chill touched the back of his neck, like icy fingers tickling his skin. ”Oh, s.h.i.+t,” he whispered.
”What?” She'd picked up on his fear; her eyes wide and her voice low.
He listened for several seconds before answering. The house was silent. Far from rea.s.sured, he spoke so softly she had to lean forward to hear him. ”He wants to break in here. I a.s.sumed it would be while I was gone. But the little b.a.s.t.a.r.d thinks he has something to prove. He might have the b.a.l.l.s to try it when I'm here. In fact, that sounds exactly like his style-risky and overconfident.”
She shrank back against the cabinet. ”You mean he's trying to break in here right now?”
Instead of answering, Rocky put his finger to his lips and c.o.c.ked his head.
Janet froze, biting her lip. The luscious lower lip he should be nibbling on right now. When he got his hands on Easy Joey, the little a.s.shole was going to find burglary a bit more difficult with a couple broken limbs.
Rocky had to be right. Any second now Easy would trip an alarm. Both doors and windows had backup systems, a precaution the arrogant little twerp would never think to look for. And even if he got past them, Rocky would be there to catch him. In fact, catching him inside might be more rewarding than keeping him out. If he could just figure out the point of entry.
In the garage something metal clattered to the floor.
He smiled. Easy was going down.
Standing, he motioned for Janet to stay down, and he was mildly surprised when she did. That headache must be coming on strong; automatic obedience from her was something he'd learned not to take for granted.
He moved slowly, then paused with his back to the refrigerator, and tried not to think about how he'd pressed Janet to the same spot not long before, losing himself in her intoxicating taste and her soft skin. Instead, he thought about the giant error Easy had made when he was careless enough to get Janet involved in this feud. Rocky could tolerate teaching the guy a lesson in humility, if that's what he needed, but Easy had crossed the line.
Around the corner in the laundry room, a faint sc.r.a.ping came from the door. Someone was working the lock. With a quick move, Rocky killed the power on the keypad on the wall. Couldn't risk the backup alarm scaring Easy into running. He wanted the punk to walk into the condo. After that, Easy Joey would be breaking and entering, and the tools in his hand and the box in the sink clearly indicated his intention to do harm. A homeowner was ent.i.tled to defend himself. In another minute, Easy would be fair game.
With a barely audible click, the deadbolt slid open. Rocky plastered himself to the refrigerator. He couldn't hear him, but he could picture Easy creeping into the shadowy laundry room. A tiny metallic sound signaled the lock mechanism falling into place. Then nothing but silence. Easy was listening.
Rocky tensed, ready. Come on, a.s.shole, three more steps.
He counted the seconds to himself, wondering how cautious the little p.r.i.c.k would be.
With a soft thud, something hit the was.h.i.+ng machine. A man's voice yelled a frightened profanity. Rocky understood instantly, and darted out, diving toward the laundry room in two quick strides, right into the path of his terrified cat.
A ball of white fur hit his ankle at the same moment he tried to widen his step to avoid the fast-moving animal. Losing his balance, he lunged forward, bouncing against the wall and falling to his knees. Three steps ahead of him, Easy Joey yanked the door open and ran into the garage.
Spitting a few profanities of his own, Rocky scrambled to his feet and followed. Easy was already through the side door, racing across Mrs. Garfield's drive. Three doors down, Rocky spotted the yellow Corvette idling by the curb, as if someone had left it for a moment while they dropped something off. Or stole something.
Easy vaulted the car door, slammed the vehicle into gear, and squealed his tires as he shot down the road. Rocky cleared the garage in time to inhale hot exhaust fumes and watch the car roar around the buildings, out of sight.
”s.h.i.+t!”
He hadn't even had time to put a few dents in the s.h.i.+ny yellow car, much less its owner. And he couldn't chase him down, not with Janet sitting on his kitchen floor looking like she could use a half dozen Advil. Putting his anger aside for the moment, he hurried back inside.
Janet was on her feet, leaning against the counter. Her wobbly stance shot a fresh jolt of concern through him; he shouldn't have left her, even for a minute. He slung an arm around her and led her to a chair. ”Sit. No standing. How are you feeling?”
She managed a weak smile. ”My stomach's fine. My head, not so much.”
”We'll get you to a doctor. Would you like a drink of water first?”
”I don't need a doctor, but water sounds good.”
He bent down to look her in the eyes. ”Janet, you're going to a doctor. For me, if not for you. Save the arguments.”
He must have looked stern enough, or else her head was beginning to ache enough. ”Fine,” she grumbled. ”Just get me a drink first.”
He kissed the top of her head and fetched a gla.s.s of water along with a washcloth soaked in cold water. When he laid it on her forehead, she raised grateful eyes. ”Thanks. I'm sorry I'm being difficult. You'd make a good mom.”
He smiled. ”That's not exactly the position I was looking to fill.”
She tipped her head, squinting a warning look through her pain. ”Are you still trying for something more permanent? 'Cause one session of hot s.e.x doesn't const.i.tute a relations.h.i.+p.”
He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow, willing to keep it light if that's what she wanted. ”I was going for two when we got interrupted.”
Beneath the washcloth, the edges of her eyes crinkled. ”I know. But I don't think I'm up for it right now.”
He grabbed her free hand, making sure she looked at him. Making sure he didn't laugh at her serious expression. ”Babe, I didn't mean I was waiting to resume the action. We're taking you out of the game for the rest of the day. Maybe two. Okay?”
She sighed her disappointment. ”Yeah.”
He did smile then, and reached out to wipe a trail of water that dripped from the washcloth past her temple and down her jaw. He'd kissed those places just a short time ago and found himself tempted to kiss them again. To caress her skin with his lips, to ma.s.sage the tension out of her neck before letting his hands skim down her sides. His fingers ached to touch her.
What kind of sick b.a.s.t.a.r.d would have erotic thoughts about a woman who was so obviously in pain? He stood, banis.h.i.+ng all thoughts of s.e.x. ”Come on.”
She let him help her without protest, and he tucked her against his body, supporting her weight. Putting his arm around her was beginning to feel right, which could be a very dangerous thing. He wondered how well he'd be able to hide his feelings from her. She probably thought this had been no-strings s.e.x, but for once in his life he wanted a few strings. And stubborn, relations.h.i.+p-shy Janet Aims was not going to like that one bit.
Janet slumped in the pa.s.senger seat on the way back from the ER. Everything had gone to h.e.l.l. Right now she should have been lying in Rocky's bed, exhausted and s.e.xually sated. Or on his kitchen counter, equally sated. That one really would have been interesting. But instead she was nursing a toxic gas induced migraine while he drove her back to Elizabeth's house to sleep in her own bed. Alone.
His hand stroked her cheek in a way she was beginning to love. ”Hey, babe, you awake? You're home.”
She cracked an eyelid. ”Yippee.”
He came around the car and helped her out. ”I know, it's been a long afternoon for you. Let's get you inside and into bed.”
”If I could locate my sense of humor I'd make a saucy remark about that line.”
He chuckled. ”That's my girl.”
She should have warned him to be careful with that phrase, but it sounded good right now, and having a deep conversation about relations.h.i.+ps didn't. Her mind was fully occupied just watching the ground as she put one shaky foot ahead of the other.