CHAPTER NINETEEN
“We’re at the condo. It’s a mess. The doc needs to talk to her sister,” Janowski was saying to whoever was on the other line. His face very serious, his dark eyes said trust me.
Dylan did. Despite her concern for her sister and the state of the condo, Steve’s odd sudden protector personality took some of the edge off Dylan’s fear. Still, she wrapped her arms around her body to help stop some of the shaking, probably a combination from the adrenaline rushing through her body like the aftermath of a bad emergency surgery and the freezing cold weather.
Steve listened to the other man, nodded and handed her the phone.
“Chloe?” Dylan asked.
“It’s me Dylan,” her sister answered, her voice filling Dylan with reassurance. She slumped onto the edge of the sofa.
“What’s going on?” she asked, slipping into sister mode. “No one’s heard a word from you since yesterday and your condo…” she hesitated, staring at the violent chaos.
“What’s wrong with my condo?” Concern filled her sister’s question.
“Someone’s been here, Chlo. They…” she paused to look at Janowski. He nodded. “They tore it apart.”
“Tore what apart, Dyl?”
God, she hated telling her sister this, but she’d never shied away from the truth. “Everything, sis. They slashed the cushions of your furniture. Ransacked drawers. Broke things. Your living room has obscenities spray painted on the wall.”
“Oh, no.”
The pitiful sound coming from her strong sister broke Dylan’s heart.
“What else did they do?” A deep masculine voice asked.
“Who is this?” she asked, completely ignoring his question.
“It’s Wes Strong, Dylan,” Chloe said, and Dylan realized they’d put her on speaker phone. “One of Gage’s deputies.”
“You’re in Westen?” Anger shot through Dylan. “Why didn’t Bobby call and tell me? I know you two still think of me as the baby of the family, but dammit, I’m a fricking doctor. All grown up. I really wish you’d treat me like one.” She paused, cautiously watching the man across the room holding a gun as casual as if used to doing it daily. “Chloe, exactly what is going on and why did you send someone to babysit me?”
Janowski’s eyebrows shot up and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Dylan gave him her most pissed off look. If the man laughed she was going to pummel him, gun or no gun.
“He’s not a babysitter,” Wes said. “He’s a bodyguard.”
“And why, Mr. Strong, do I need a bodyguard?”
“Because your sister has a stalker.”
The brusque words hit her in the solar plexus, air whooshing out of her lungs. She sank onto the sofa, the world spinning around her. Her sister was in danger. Someone wanted to hurt her.
“Breathe, Doc,” Steven said, squatting down in front of her, his hand on her arm, slowly taking the phone from her. He hit the speaker button.
“Chief, she needs a minute.”
He leaned in closer. “Slow breath in, Doc. Slow breath out. Your sister is okay. She’s safe. The Chief isn’t going to let anyone hurt her. And I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
She gulped in air, then took his advice, forcing herself to calm down. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, clinging to her big sisters’ hands at her parents’ funeral and crawling into their beds when she was frightened. Just like Bobby had back then, she’d pull up her big girl panties and handle this.
“You okay?” Janowski asked her after a moment.
She nodded. “Yes.”
He returned her nod, then angled the phone between them. “Okay, Chief, like Doc said, this place was trashed. But it doesn’t look like anything valuable was taken. The computer, monitor, and flat screen are all here. All in one place.”
“So not a burglar?” Chloe asked.
“No. Ma’am,” Janowski answered. “It feels very personal based on the words spray painted in orange on the walls.”
“And your underwear and clothes are all over your bedroom,” Dylan added, finally able to look at the situation through a clinician’s eyes. “I know this is gross, but if you have a stalker, I’m thinking he touched everything in your lingerie drawer, sis.”
“Oh, gross,” Chloe groaned. “Can we just burn them all?”
“No,” Wes answered.
“Why not? It’s not like I’m ever going to touch them again.”
“Because they could have evidence on them.”
“What kind?”
“DNA.”
“Oh gross. That’s just…disgusting.”
Dylan grinned, imagining them arguing wherever they were. She looked at Janowski who winked at her with a little smirk on his face. She couldn’t help covering her mouth as a giggle threatened to escape.
“What do you want me to do, Chief?” Steve finally asked, hoping to get her sister and the deputy back on track.
“Can you and Dylan stay there for a little while? I’ll contact Bryerson, the same guy you called last night about the car. I’ll fill him in and see if he can get someone there to run forensics.”
“Doc and I are pretty dead on our feet. How long do you think it will take?”
“Don’t know, but he’ll probably put a rush on it since it’s me calling.”
Janowski held the phone to the side and looked at Dylan expectantly. He was waiting for her to make the decision. She hated being here longer than necessary, but she would do it if it would help catch her sister’s stalker. She nodded.
“Doc says she’s good to go,” Steven said into the phone.
She leaned forward, “But the doc isn’t the least bit happy her sisters kept her in the dark about this.”
“Bobby doesn’t know,” Chloe said.
“How does she not know if you’re there staying with…” She let the words trail off as realization hit her. “She doesn’t know you’re in town, because you’re not staying with her.”
“And I don’t want her to know until this mess is cleared up, little sister,” Chloe said, going all big sister on her. “I don’t want her worrying and jeopardizing her baby.”
“No, duh. Neither do I. But she’s going to be really pissed when she learns you kept not only the stalker thing from her, but that you were…there, wherever there is, with…one of her co-workers.” An idea hit her. “Gage doesn’t know either, does he?”
Silence on the other end.
This time she laughed. “Oh, you two are so dead when he finds out.”
And they would be. She knew one thing about her new brother-in-law, he loved her sister with his whole heart and that meant he thought of himself as her and Chloe’s big brother. If Bobby didn’t kill Wes for hiding her sister, Gage definitely would.
“Dylan, we have to go,” Chloe said. “Wes has to call that policeman to come to my place so you can go get some sleep.” A pause sounded on the other end of the phone and deep rumbling like Wes was whispering to her sister. “Uhm, Dyl, can you stay somewhere besides your place tonight? It might not be safe.”
That’s why they’d given her a bodyguard. Chloe, probably at Wes’s instigation, believed the stalker might try to come after her to hurt her sister.
“I’ve got a spare room at the extended-stay efficiency I’m booked into. She can stay with me,” Janowski said, rising from his crouch and handing her the phone. “Besides, I’ll have to take you to work when it’s your shift again.”
Who was she to argue with her bodyguard?
“When are we telling Bobby? Because I’m not very good at lying to her. You know that,” Dylan said.
More mumbling on the other line. “If we are no closer to figuring this out by noon tomorrow, we’ll go into town and tell them ourselves,” Chloe said.
“That’s not going to work and you know it. She’s going to be calling your phone, then mine, the minute her feet hit the floor in the morning.”
A big sigh heaved over the phone. “I know.”
“You have until about seven, eight at the latest tomorrow morning, then she and Gage are going to know where to find you. Stay safe, Chloe. Love you.”
“Love you, too Dylan.”
“Put Bulldog on the phone,” Wes said.
Dylan’s eyes shot over to Janowski’s who was at the window. Bulldog? She mouthed at him. He nodded and stalked back over to the phone, hitting off the speaker button.
“What’s up, Chief?” He listened to whatever Wes was saying, nodded his head a few times. “Got it. We’ll talk in the morning.”
He pushed the disconnect button and pocketed his phone.
Dylan held up her hand when he opened his mouth. “Don’t say anything. I’m mad and I need questions answered.”
“Okay.” Slipping his weapon into the shoulder holster under his coat, he moved to stand between her and the front door, obviously still in dangerous protector mode. She had no doubt he wouldn’t need the weapon to stop anyone unwanted coming through that door.
“First, and this is more of a statement of fact than a question, you came to work at the hospital two weeks ago, just to keep an eye on me, right?”
He shrugged. “More like keeping an eye out for trouble around you.”
“Are you really gay or was that just a ruse to keep me relaxed?”
The corner of his lip lifted, a twinkle of humor in his eyes. “Gay as the day is long, Doc.”
Good. She liked knowing something about her friend was true. “I assume you got your surgical skills in the military. Which one and how did you meet Wes?”
Janowski leaned back against the wall. “Army Rangers Special Forces. Wes was First Sergeant of our squad. I was the medic.”
“How long did you serve together?”
“In the Rangers? ’Til our first tour was through, so four years.”
Something in the way he asked the question in his answer set off her curiosity bell. “Where else did you serve together?”
Janowski grinned at her. “Told the Chief you were one smart surgeon, Doc. After that tour was done in Afghanistan, we joined a team with Homeland. Dark Ops.”
Now he really had her curiosity going. “Homeland? As in Homeland Security? Dark Ops as in…?”
“Yes. Homeland Security. Dark Ops as in extractions.” His face had gone serious. Deadly serious. “No more questions on either subject, Doc. I can’t answer them.”
Okay. Off limits, she got it. Time to change the subject.
“So, Bulldog, huh?”
He gave a little shrug. “What can I say? I’m as tenacious as a bulldog.”
Silence filled the space between them. Dylan could feel the adrenaline seeping from her body. She curled into the corner of the sofa and pulled the afghan she and Chloe found at a craft fair a few years ago over her. The police better hurry or she’d be snoring soundly when they arrived.
“So, do you think they’re sleeping together?” she asked between yawns.
“Depends,” Bulldog—that was now how she’d always think of him—said.
“On what?”
Slumped down to the floor in front of the door, his legs extended in front of him, Bulldog looked relaxed, but Dylan wasn’t fooled. Anyone coming through that door that wasn’t law enforcement, would find themselves in a heap of trouble.
“Does your sister look like you?” he asked.
“We’re about the same height, same build, but she’s got short spikey brown hair. So dark it’s almost black.”
He whistled. “She’s a lawyer, so I assume she’s smart and sassy?”
Dylan grinned. “Told you, she argues for a living.”
“Beautiful, smart and sassy. That’s a combination hard for a straight man to ignore. Chief is no fool, so yeah, I’d say they’re sleeping together.”
“He’d better not break my sister’s heart.” She murmured, letting her eyes close. “My sister and brother-in-law won’t like him putting her in danger.”
Bulldog watched the sexy surgeon drift off to sleep. Too damn bad he wasn’t in to women. He envied the Chief. If the sister was anything like the doc, she’d be worth getting caught up in something dangerous.
* * * * *
Wes hit the off button on his phone with one hand and pulled Chloe tight into his body with the other. He tossed the phone onto the counter and wrapped both arms around her shaking body. Moisture touched his neck and collarbone where she snuggled against him.
Tears.
For the first time since all this started, Chloe was crying. All that had already happened to her, the stress, the frustration, the anger, none of it had brought her to tears. It took someone trashing her home to do that.
Carefully, he maneuvered her back to the couch and eased her down beside him, never losing his hold on her. A dark need to find and destroy the person tormenting her filled his chest. Like a warrior of old, he protected what was his.
His.
Whoa. Where the hell had that thought come from? Chloe wasn’t the woman for him. She was too tightly wound. Too sophisticated. Too smart. Too sassy. Too sexy.
And he’d never been more comfortable with or entertained by a woman. Holding her this close, his cock tightened with the idea of taking her back to bed. Quickly, he put a kibosh on that idea. The woman had a right to grieve, she had a need to grieve and he intended to let her do just that, no matter how much he ached to go all caveman and claim her as his. When this was all over, there would be time for that.
As her trembling slowed, he rubbed his hand up and down her back. The first hiccup-gulp hit her and he couldn’t help pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“I know…it’s silly.” She hiccup-gulped again. “They’re just…things. They can be replaced.”
He smiled against her head. “I’ll be happy to help you replace all your lingerie.”
This time she giggled. “I bet you would.”
“Although, I confess I have a fondness for that red bra and panty set you wore under the bridesmaid dress.”
She laughed and laid her hand on his chest, then pulled back to look at him, her beautiful eyes red and a little redness filled her cheeks and covered her nose. “I’ve soaked your shirt.”
“It will dry,” he said, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek.
“I can’t believe I broke down like that. I never cry.”
“I know.”
“No. Really. I think the last time I really cried was at my parent’s funeral. And it’s not really the things in my apartment being destroyed. It’s just…” she let the words drift off, biting her lip in an effort to stop the tears from starting again. Her courage impressed him and broke his heart for her at the same time.
“The invasion of your privacy and the threat to your freedom,” he finished for her.
“Yes.” She pulled back and the color had returned to her cheeks. No longer feeling sorry for herself, he could see the sparks of anger in her dark eyes. “How dare someone think they can just come into my home? My home. It was the first place I ever bought by myself. Bobby and Dylan helped me pick out the furniture and decorate it as a graduation from law school present. Now some asshole has destroyed it.”
Wes loosened his hold on her, knowing she needed to pace, now that she’d gotten her tears under control. She sprang to her feet and started across the room in her long-legged stride most runway models would envy.
“And the destruction of my property and invasion of my privacy isn’t the worst part. You know what is?” she asked as she pivoted one-hundred and eighty degrees, pointing a finger at him.
“What?” he asked, scooping up their impromptu dessert picnic from the floor in front of the fireplace, clearing a space for her to stalk to the opposite side of the cabin.
“This jerk scared Dylan.”
“That’s what has you angry?” He set the tray of snack ingredients on the counter, then started cleaning up their dinner dishes. “I promise you Bulldog will keep her safe.”
She grabbed a dishtowel and started drying the dishes as he rinsed them off. “It’s not that. I have no doubt your friend will protect her. It’s just that when my parents died, she was so frightened. It took Bobby and me years to convince her that she wasn’t going to be taken away to an orphanage.”
“She’s not a little girl anymore, counselor. She’s a grown woman who sews people back together. Takes a certain amount of courage to do that. Courage you and your sister obviously gave her.” Turning, he handed her the steak platter, but didn’t let go when she took it. Instead he stared into her dark eyes.
“I know. It’s just she was, and always will be, my little sister. I don’t want her scared even if her fear is for me. And I hate that this creep caused that.” She gave a little tug and an I-understand-what-you’re-saying look.
He released the platter, and started in on the silverware. “This is actually a good thing.”
She paused placing the platter up on the open shelf and gave him a you-can’t-be-serious look. “How in the world can someone breaking into my home, destroying my things, and scaring my sister be a good thing?”
“Think about it,” he said, handing her the clean knives and forks. “We have a list of possible people that could be your stalker, but no real evidence.”
She dried the cutlery and put them in the drawers. “And you think this scumbag left some at my place?”
“Maybe fingerprints. Maybe DNA.”
She held up her hand and visibly shivered. “Please. I don’t even want to think what kind he might’ve left.”
Wes let the dishwater out the drain, dried his hands and turned off the kitchen light. Taking her elbow, he steered her back to the sofa, turning off the lights as he went. Finally seated in front of the fire, he slipped his arm around her shoulder and hugged her in close.
“Don’t think about what he might have done to get us the DNA. Let’s just let the police gather what evidence they can, then we’ll be able to go after the son-of-a-bitch.”
She snuggled close a minute, but Wes could almost hear the wheels in her brain turning.
“If we’d called the police when my tires were slashed, they might’ve gotten him before he broke into my house. Maybe you should’ve just taken me home then.”
So the asshole could’ve attacked her there?
The possibility shook him and he tightened his hold on her a moment, then relaxed. “No. That was a savage, angry attack on your car. Taking you home where he obviously planned to continue his game would’ve been the worst option.”
“We didn’t know that at the time. Maybe having the police look at my car would’ve scared him off?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t think he hung around to watch you deal with the tires. He slashed them, then headed to your place. It gave him time to get inside your condo and wait for you.” Wes planted another kiss on the top of her head to ward off the anger surging through him. “You were better off leaving the area. You were safer with me.”
For a few moments she didn’t say anything, didn’t argue the point. Which, for Chloe, meant something. “I think you’re right. I’m much safer here with you.”
* * * * *
The only light in the room was the fire in the fireplace and the candles circling Isaac’s Army Ranger picture. Just like when they were kids and Dad would take them camping in the winter. A rabbit roasted on a spit in the fireplace, caught just like Dad taught them as kids. Survival wasn’t just for nice weather. He expected his kids, all his kids to survive in the woods.
Which made Isaac’s death in the jungle so tragic. Left on his own, Isaac could survive for weeks. He’d know how to find water, food—even if it was bugs and snakes. He would’ve made his own shelter. No one would’ve found him unless he wanted to be found.
So, whatever happened, however Isaac had died, it was all Wes Strong’s fault.
Tomorrow, he’d find out what it was like to be truly hunted.