Springfield, Illinois

Kelly Hobart’s Apartment

The phone hadn’t stopped ringing all night, not after Kelly called home and told her parents she and Ryder were coming back to Atlanta. She’d finally had to turn it off just to get some sleep. Well, sleep came a while after turning off the phones, but it did come.

She woke as the sun began to shine through the cracks in her blinds, the normal sounds of the city soothing her troubled mind. She’d dreamed of Dane all night, of what might have happened if she and Ryder hadn’t gotten the better of him when they did. It was a series of nightmares she suspected she’d continue to have for a while. But, in the light of day, she knew she was safe, and she would be unlikely to find herself in such a situation again.

At least, she hoped not.

Ryder was on his side, his wide back to her. She slipped her fingertips over it lightly, loving the ripple of muscles and the bulk of him, so masculine. His arm sported a new bandage that a medic at the hotel had put on it after he sewed up the wound. It should heal in a week or so, he’d told them. Just keep it dry and clean. She slipped her fingers over the bandage, too, grateful the wound hadn’t been worse than it was.

He continued to sleep deeply even with her touch. She decided to let him rest and slipped out of bed, pulling on a pair of shorts and his abandoned t-shirt before quietly leaving him alone in the bedroom. She put on a pot of coffee and went to her desk, sitting to go through her email. Her editor was happy with the latest batch of chapters but wanted more before the week was out. Her publisher was congratulating her on the success of the first day and a half of the promotional tour. She wondered what they would think when they learned she’d had to cancel the rest of her appearances?

She was clicking through message after message when she came across something that sent chills through her body. It was sent anonymously, a message that made her wonder if Dane had gotten out of jail sooner than expected.

Ms. Hobart,

Congrats on the success of your novels. You are an amazing writer. But telling lies should be kept to the page, not to real life. Lying on Tinder and pretending to be someone you’re not is an ugly thing to do. Look at your friend. I would suggest you be more careful in the future.

Kelly jerked back from the computer, her heart pounding as it had done the day before when she confronted Dane. He said he killed Tracy. He said . . . Was it possible he hadn’t been working alone? Or was this a message from him? Or . . . She didn’t understand.

She picked up her phone from where she’d left it the night before on the corner of the desk, switching it on. She scrolled through the apps until the Tinder icon appeared. Tracy had put it on her phone so that she could see what was happening with her account, but Kelly had never looked at it. That was why Tracy had taken control and managed the account from her own phone. She opened it now, scrolling through the matches Tracy had swiped for her. The longer she looked at it, the more her heart raced in her chest.

Dane Hood’s picture wasn’t there.

Had he deleted it to protect himself from his coworkers? Or was it possible that it was never on there? But why would he confess to Tracy’s murder?

What was happening?

And then the screen lit up with a live message.

I thought I killed you. Imagine my surprise when I learned you were still alive.

“No, no, no!”

Kelly dropped the phone and backed up, slamming into the wall hard enough to knock down a few pictures. She wanted to get as far from the phone as possible as if the man could reach through it and do to her what he’d done to Tracy. She was shaking, her knees, her hands.

This couldn’t be happening!

The phone beeped, alerting her to a new message. And then again and again, the messages coming faster and faster. She knew that the phone couldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t want to see the messages. But she had to. She had to know what was happening.

She crossed the room and snatched the phone up, her heart in her throat as she read what was on the screen.

Did you really think you could escape me?

Did you think that crazy cop was really capable of what I did?

I’ve been watching you from the moment you showed up at your first reading. What a shock it was to see you, to see how much like that other woman you looked. I should have seen the differences, though. You’re so much more beautiful.

But your beauty is an abomination. You shouldn’t be allowed to take a single breath more on the face of this earth!

She dropped the phone again, rushing into the kitchen to throw up in the sink. Ryder came out of the bedroom, and she screamed when he touched her arm.

“What’s going on?”

“The phone,” she gasped, unable to put the rest of it into words.

Ryder, dressed only in jeans, crossed the room and snatched her phone off the floor. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, and then he was on his phone, calling the police. No more Mastiff, no more playing around. This was getting serious.

Kelly turned her attention to the sink, rinsing out the bile that clung to the edges of the stainless steel. And then she made the mistake of looking up through the window over the sink. He was standing in the uncovered windows of an apartment across the street, binoculars held to his eyes. He lowered them when he realized she’d spotted him, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he smiled.

“Ryder!”

He was gone before Ryder came into the room, still talking on the phone.

She pointed. “He’s over there.”

“You saw him?”

She nodded. And she knew who he was, too.

Why wouldn’t this stop?

“I’m going to take you to my place,” Ryder said, taking her arm and leading the way across the living room. “Get dressed.”

She went to her dresser, her hands shaking too much to be functional. Ryder had to come over and help her, pulling a bra and panties from the drawer and holding them up for her to slide into. She calmed down enough to finish, pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans under a heavy cardigan. He dressed, too, telling her something about a patrol cop meeting them downstairs. She didn’t catch it all, didn’t really care. She just wanted out of there.

They’d closed the bedroom door, and later she would wonder what the wisdom was in that. He had a key to the front door. He was standing there in the middle of the living room with a gun focused on the center of her chest as they stepped out.

“Imagine my surprise when I saw the two of you together at that first reading,” he said, his voice deeper than she remembered. “Two birds with one stone.”

“Jensen,” Ryder said, his surprise tempered by his fear and caution.

“You remember me. Do you remember my brother? What you did to him?”

“Do you really think I could forget that?”

Ryder tried to pull Kelly behind him as he’d done before, but she stood her ground. Jensen shook his head, also protesting the move.

“Let’s both stay out in the open,” he suggested.

“What do you want, Jensen?”

“I want you to suffer the same way my mother and brother have done since you shot Jordan.”

“I know you’re angry—”

“You’ve even gotten Jared on your side! Damn, naive kid! Thinks it was Jordan’s fault because he pulled a gun on a cop. But he didn’t deserve to be shot! He didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t understand the gravity of it. If you’d just talked him down, he would have stopped. But you fucking gun hungry cops have to shoot every damn kid!”

“He shot him in the chest, Jensen,” Kelly said, moving toward him with her hands held up. “If he hadn’t had a vest on, he would have killed a cop. Would you feel better if your brother was in prison?”

“At least then he could hold his own dick when he pisses!”

“But his life would have been ruined either way.” She held her hands up, trying to get him to focus on her. “At least this way, you still have him at home.”

“Fuck you, bitch! He’s not my brother anymore. He’s some drooling fool!”

“Please, don’t you think there’s been enough hurt here?”

There were tears in the boy’s eyes, but he didn’t back down. He waved the gun at Kelly, pointing it directly at the center of her head.

“You took my brother from me. I’m taking your wife from you!”

“No!”

Ryder’s bellow deafened Kelly for a moment. She rushed forward, reaching for Jensen’s gun at the same time she felt Ryder push her from behind. It was chaos, bodies falling, people yelling, and then the sound of the gun discharging. Kelly fell, convinced Ryder had been struck, convinced she hadn’t knocked the gun far enough off aim to save anyone. Pain rushed through her back, her wrist. She didn’t realize it at first but then became aware of Jensen’s limp body crushing hers.

“Jensen?”

She pulled herself up a little, touching his face, searching for a pulse in his throat. It was there, strong and steady. And then she turned her attention, searching for Ryder. She expected him to be on the floor, to see blood pouring from a fresh bullet wound, but there was nothing. And then his hand was in front of her face, offering to help her up.

“You’re okay?”

He nodded, drawing her into his arms, his hands moving over her body, searching for an injury. She cried out when he touched her right wrist. Her healing sprain clearly re-injured from the fall.

“What?”

“I hit him on the head. He’ll be out for a little while.”

“But he’s okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“And you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, babe.”

She stared at him, unable to believe her eyes. But then he smiled, and there was something about the relief and the joy in his eyes that pulled her out of her head. She moved into him, wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I love you . . . I thought . . .”

“I know. But I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine.”

She nodded, tears pouring down her face. “I do.”

* * *

Once again, they found themselves overrun by cops. They gave their statements, suffered the disbelief of detectives who considered Dane Hood their friend. But when Jensen came to, he apparently gave a full confession. And Hood . . . A few days in jail inspired him to accept the offer of psychiatric care. They said he was suffering from a form of schizophrenia, but that it was treatable. He might even be able to get his private security license in a year or two.

Jensen would have to face the consequences of killing Tracy Logan. And he wasn’t apologetic about it. He was still so filled with anger that Kelly couldn’t wrap her mind around it. She wished there was something she could do for him, but didn’t know what that might be. Some people just couldn’t see passed their hatred and their grief and their anger.

It was a shame.

When it was all done, for the time being, anyway, Kelly and Ryder decided there was no reason to wait. They packed up what they couldn’t bear to leave behind, which proved to be most of Kelly’s apartment and only a few items from Ryder’s, and loaded up a rented SUV, deciding a road trip was just what the doctor ordered. A little time alone together, arguing over the music on the radio. And then falling into the arms of the people who loved them, the people they’d left behind when they abandoned their hometown. It was time to go back and make amends, time to pick up where they’d left off.

Time to be Kelly and Ryder, and nothing more.