Hone started in his chair, the strident demand of his phone wrenching, dragging, yanking him from sexy dreams of the curvy Cassie.
“Hell.” He swiped his hand across his brow, adjusted his track pants before lowering the chair footrest. He snagged his phone off the wooden coffee table.
“Yeah.”
“Something’s up at the motel. Cassie’s unit,” Manu said without preamble. “My security system beeped. Bad enough to call the cops.”
Fully awake now, Hone grabbed his keys, fiercely glad he’d fallen asleep fully dressed. Saved time.
A fast trip later, after superb driving—even if he did say so himself—he screeched into the motel parking lot. A cop car had parked outside Cassie’s unit. Cassie stood at the door with the police.
A growl rumbled through him, his taniwha exerting displeasure. Hone straightened, slapped his beast down, because he needed to speak with the cops. Cassie.
Calm down. We need Cassie.
His taniwha growled, fell silent.
Hone approached the cops—one male and the other female. “Cassie, you okay?”
“Who are you?” the female cop asked before Cassie could reply. The male cop circled the motel wall and disappeared from sight.
“I’m her boyfriend,” Hone said.
Luckily, Cassie scarcely blinked.
“Where were you half an hour ago?”
“Asleep at home in my chair. My auntie owns the motel. She heard about the trouble and asked me to come and check,” Hone said.
The suspicion didn’t lessen on the cop’s face. She turned to Cassie. “He really your boyfriend?”
“Yes. I haven’t known him long, but he works with my best friend. Besides, the man I saw wore full clown makeup.”
“A clown?” Hone grimaced. No wonder she looked freaked. Was this a copycat of the clown craze sweeping the world or was it connected to Cassie’s earlier accident?
Hone weighed the information, factored in coincidence, kept coming back to instinct. Someone wanted her frightened. Someone wanted her pain. Someone was stalking her.
Unobtrusively, he sniffed the air, sorting through the layers of smells. Petrol. Perfume. Aftershave. Grass. Nothing out of place in the parking lot.
The male cop reappeared. He wagged his head, an imperceptible shake, and the female cop turned back to Cassie. “We have your statement. If you have any other problems call us.”
“You okay, Cass?”
Relief flickered over her face as she flew at him to burrow against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, and she shuddered, her breathing harsh. Not far from breaking point. He didn’t feel much better, his heart racing, but the weight of her body against his calmed his angst. She was safe.
A long moment later, she pulled back, tear-stained gaze behind her smeared glasses. “I can’t stay here tonight. I can’t.”
“Would you like to come home with me?”
“Yes, please,” she said in a small voice.
“Okay, let’s get your things.” He propelled her into the motel unit. “I’ll ring Manu while you pack. I’ll be right here, okay? You don’t have to worry.”
“Why are you ringing Manu?”
“He told me the police were at the motel. I said I’d check on you. He’ll want to know what happened.”
“You’re not arguing with him again?” The strident note in her words had him smiling.
“I’ve apologized to you and Manu. Besides, we’re cousins and friends. We argue, and we move on.”
“Oh. Okay.” Cassie pulled open drawers, placed clothes in a pile on the bed. “Um, can you come with me to the bathroom?” Her chin wobbled and he closed the distance between them to offer comfort. Her vulnerability dragged out the protective caveman. Something new, but an action he didn’t shy from with Cassie.
“What do you need? I can get it for you.”
“My toothbrush and other toiletries.”
“All right, babe. You finishing packing. I’ll get them for you.”
Hone strode into the bathroom, noted the window—open scant inches due to the security lock—the black dusting of fingerprint powder. After sucking in a deep breath to test for scents, he scowled. An out-of-place smell polluted the air. Greasy. Paint-like. It could’ve come from the cops. He’d question Cassie once she’d calmed.
He secured the window and gathered the toiletries into the blue toilet bag sitting on the vanity top. “I think I have everything. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” She stood by the bed, arms wrapped around her torso.
“You’ve had an eventful day.” He tossed the toilet bag into the open bag on the bed and zipped it shut, then picked it up with his left hand.
“I don’t want a repeat, that’s for sure.”
An understatement. Run off the road this morning and an intruder tonight. “Any enemies you know of?”
“I haven’t been back in New Zealand for long.” A furrow formed between her bloodshot eyes, and she gnawed her bottom lip like a champ. “I haven’t had time to make enemies.”
“Ex-boyfriends?”
“I spoke to Kevin earlier today. While we didn’t part on good terms, we still work together. It’s not him since he’s still in Los Angeles.”
“I see.” Not really, and neither did his taniwha. The idea of another man with hands-on privileges brought the beast to growly life. Hone—the man—disliked the thought too. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve no reason to suppose otherwise. I need my guitar,” she said without warning, balking at his gentle guidance toward the door. “I can’t go without it.” She darted away, grabbed the instrument and returned to his side.
“Where is the case?”
“Still at your place.”
Guilt roared through him in a dizzy rush. His fault. God, he hadn’t experienced the longing to pummel Manu since his teen days when he was learning to control his taniwha. His father would’ve been horrified. His uncle too, but he figured Manu wouldn’t blab because that would draw June’s attention. No one wanted the matriarch angry, spurting fiery punishment.
“Did the police have any idea of the prowler’s identity?”
“They said they hadn’t received reports of clowns breaking into properties.” She pulled a face. “Clowns are creepy.”
“You ain’t wrong.” Hone scanned the motel grounds as he hustled Cassie to his vehicle. The back of his neck tingled, dragon spidery-senses roaring, and he didn’t doubt someone skulked in the darkness. Watching. Calculating. It would be interesting to see if that Peeping Tom followed them—not that he’d make their location easy to discover.
His vehicle unlocked, and he placed Cassie’s bag in the rear. He opened the passenger door for her, half his attention on their surroundings. If he could pinpoint the vicinity, he might have a chance of catching the bastard.
A chuff of approval rippled through his mind, yet the human part of him tempered the eagerness with a mental order.
We need to keep Cassie safe.
“Have plans for tomorrow?” During the drive home, he scrutinized other vehicles while doing the small-chat thing with Cassie.
“Same as earlier. The clown doesn’t change anything.”
“Who dresses up as a clown?”
“Yeah. I know. Who does that?” She yawned, white teeth flashing before she clapped a hand over her lips. “Sorry.”
“Nearly home,” Hone said. “You can sleep without worrying about clowns.”
Cassie lay in the comfy bed in Hone’s spare room. Each of the four windows were locked. Hone had set the alarm. She should feel safe, but every clock tick, every car rumble, every unfamiliar creak had her bolting upright, fear rioting, cold sweat bursting across her skin. Every time she closed her eyes, the clown did a cha-cha-cha across her eyelids. White face. Scarlet lips. Bubble nose. Creepy. The lyrics of the song resounded in a loop-de-loop. Creepy. So creepy.
A harsh squeak had her halfway to the door before the order from her brain. At the repeat of the creak, she darted through the doorway, down the passage to Hone’s bedroom—the one he’d pointed out earlier. She skidded through the doorway, despite the darkness, despite her lack of glasses, despite the skimpy nightclothes, the bad boy danger. She blundered forward, barked her knees on the bed.
“Oomph.” She caught her weight on her hands and straightened to rub the sore spots.
“Cassie, what’s wrong?” His husky voice guided her.
“Noises.” Like a heat-seeking missile, she headed for safety.
“What sort of noises?” The covers whispered as he changed position.
“Groans and thumps. Squeaks.”
“Get into bed to keep warm while I do a security check.” The floor creaked, and she widened her eyes to see the blur of Hone and what he wore—or didn’t wear—to bed.
“I…um…”
His voice. It got to her—strummed and plucked her nerves in a different way. This time the quakes working through her body had nothing to do with her crazy day, everything to do with him.
“Cassie.” His voice soothed, a gentle calm-the-wild-animal inflection. “Do as you’re told. I’ll be back once I’ve done recon.”
She shuffled, still night-blind, lack-of-glasses blind, using her hand to guide her to the head of the bed. Tension kept her shoulders stiff, and she strained to hear. She’d never forgive herself if danger had followed her to Hone’s home.
“Cassie?”
She let out a shriek.
Without warning, light flooded the bedroom.
“Cassie, it’s me.”
“Did you find anything?” She tried not to focus on his naked chest. Her gaze skittered down to his form-fitting boxer-briefs. Not much better. She wrenched her gaze away and settled for watching his face. He sported a grin.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he murmured.
For a naughty second, she speculated if he meant outside or in his boxer-briefs. “I…” She wrapped her arms around herself again, pressing her oversize T-shirt to her unbound breasts. “Um…don’t look at me like that. I can’t concentrate.”
“Me neither,” he whispered. “Go back to bed, Cassie.”
“I can’t sleep,” she wailed. “I close my eyes and I see clowns. C-can I stay with you?”
“Is that a good idea?”
“You won’t hurt me.”
“That’s not what I meant. If you keep up the silent invitations, I will forget myself and kiss you. You’ve had a rough day.”
Before she could answer, he pulled back the covers and gestured for her to get into the bed. The light switched off the second she cuddled into the duvet. While she’d experienced a chill earlier, now heat raced across her skin.
The mattress dipped and her breath caught. “I’m not imagining clowns now.”
“Good.”
“I’m thinking about you kissing me.”
Was that a groan? It could’ve been a tetchy sigh. “Cassie, you’ve had a hard day. You’re bruised and someone tried to frighten you. Go to sleep.”
Cassie flopped onto her side, huffed out her frustration. Emma would never believe this scenario. She’d offered herself to Hone and received a rejection.
The bad boy had scruples.