Chapter 7

 

Tim’s leg bounced as he sat beside Chris’ desk, holding a cup of coffee and trying to forget a car had nearly killed him a scant few hours ago. She brought him straight there and disappeared from the bullpen. Another officer came over and took his statement again, asking if he’d had any recent threats or if he’d recognized the car. He’d barely seen the car before Chris was there, tackling him to the pavement and saving his ass from being smashed to death. If she hadn’t moved fast enough, he might not be sitting there.

“Hey,” Chris said, startling him as she spoke behind him. “Oh, sorry. How you holding up?”

He held up the paper cup and its steaming brew. “You were right about this, at least. The coffee here sucks.”

“Usually.” She sat down with a heavy sigh. “The car that tried to hit you was stolen.”

“Are you sure they were aiming for me?” he asked, squeezing the cup so hard he nearly spilt the hot liquid all over his lap. “You sure they weren’t simply drunk or out of sorts?”

“I’m afraid not. The person behind the wheel of the car was hell bent on hitting you, Tim. Any doubts your partners or I had about you embezzling can be put to rest. If someone wants you dead, it’s likely to silence you before you help me find out who’s behind this mess.”

He nodded and set down his cup, not trusting his hands. “So what now?”

“Now, my job will to be to keep you safe from any more attempts on your life.”

“Right, of course, that’s it,” he mumbled, his head falling into his hands. “Why would someone want to kill me? I don’t know anything about this.”

“You sure there’s nothing you know—maybe something you saw?”

He rubbed his forehead, wincing at the headache forming and the nausea in his stomach now that his life was suddenly in danger. “Nothing I can think of.”

She patted his knee. “Try not to worry too much about it. We’ll figure this out.”

“And until then, what? I hide away?”

“It’s the safest idea, but don’t worry, you’ll have company.”

He frowned. “A bodyguard?”

She grinned, leaning closer. “Manny volunteered to stay with you, but I talked him out of it. Said he might offend your manliness if he copped a feel of your ass.”

Tim blanched and grumbled as he pulled himself together. “Funny, real funny.”

“Who said I was kidding?” she replied with a serious face. He cringed, and she smacked him on the arm. “Relax, Tim.”

“So, who will be with me?”

“Me, at all times, until Sergeant Merriweather says otherwise.”

Despite the situation that brought him and Chris to be forced together for more than a single afternoon, he was glad it was her with him and not Manny. He remembered his hands’ hold on her hips as she drove him across the city and the way she hugged him back when he’d held her in his arms. And the kiss they’d shared—if it was any sign of what more time with Chris could be like, then he was all for making the best of this chance.

“We’ll crash at your place,” she informed him. “You can’t leave without me by your side, understand?”

“Sure, right, because someone’s trying to kill me.”

“Not while I’m around,” she promised fiercely. “Whatever’s going on, no one will get to you, understand me? It’s not going to happen.” Her hand clenched his so hard he feared she would break it. And the look in her eyes… he’d never seen anyone look so determined and so full of hate for whomever was after him.

Tim waited for her to finish at the station and followed her outside to her bike. He held her hips as he climbed on behind her, amazed by how perfectly her body fit into the cradle of his hips. She slid back against him as they pulled out onto the road, and he cursed the arousal filling his veins and driving his erection to throb in his jeans. They reached his townhouse, and she parked in the alley behind his building, turning off the bike, and kicked the stand down.

“You’re a billionaire and you live in a simple townhouse?” she asked when they stood at his front door. “You continue to surprise me, Timothy Jones.”

“Hopefully in all the right ways,” he murmured in her ear, his hand lingering on her hip.

If not for the bulk of her gun he felt when she pressed against his side, he could believe this night might turn into something more interesting than her guarding him. He unlocked the front door, and she entered first, her hand snaking up under her leather jacket to her gun. His smile fell as she whispered for him to wait by the front door as she stepped further in, clearing the first floor. When she stepped upstairs, the urge to follow made him move forward, but she held up her hand to stop him. He hated waiting behind, unable to protect her, but she was the one with the gun and trained in these situations. He was simply an investor.

“All clear,” she announced, reaching the main floor again.

Mini, his cat, meowed as she moved around Chris’ ankles, purring loudly. “I see you made a friend. I hope you like cats.”

“She’s adorable,” Chris said, bending down to pick up the cat. “And what’s your name?”

“Mini,” he told her. “She was the runt of the litter when I adopted her. She’s been a comfort these past few years.”

“I can see why.” Her cell dinged and she set the cat down to check it. “Sergeant Merriweather is on his way over to speak with you briefly and to bring me some files. Where can I set up shop?”

“The living room is fine,” he told her. “Do you need anything from your place? Clothes, maybe?”

“I have someone taking care of that, don’t worry. I’m not leaving your side.”

Good, he thought, picking up Mini when she pawed at his leg. He wandered into the kitchen to find something for dinner, more to keep his mind occupied on not picking up where they had left off with their kiss. And to forget someone tried to kill you.

Mini hopped out of his arms to land on the kitchen island as he pulled out two beers. Who would try to kill him? If Sal was behind the embezzlement, would he really go so far as to try and get him out of the way for good? For what? His company? His money? Sal could take all that from him without having to kill him. He popped the cap off his beer and gulped half down, wondering where he’d gone wrong.

“Tim?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said, clearing his throat and offering her the second beer. She nodded and he popped the cap for her. “I don’t understand why someone would want to kill me.”

“Most people don’t,” she said simply.

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It wasn’t supposed to.” She sipped her beer. “I’m going to tell you right now the best way for you and me to deal with this predicament is for me to be blunt about everything. There’s no trying to cheer you up because that’s not the type of person I am.”

“So you get to play bodyguard to a rich boy then,” he grumbled. “Don’t I feel like a sissy.”

She sputtered on her mouthful of beer. “Please, we can’t all be badass detectives with guns. And it could be much worse. I might find I like the private sector better and you’ll be stuck with me permanently.” She licked her lips after she spoke.

Tim walked around the island, wanting to kiss the beer from her lips, but the doorbell rang and he hung his head. “I’m going to guess that’s for you.”

“Hold on to that thought for a while,” she whispered, set her beer down, and sashayed out of the kitchen, giving him a wicked smile over her shoulder. He groaned, gripped his beer bottle hard, and willed his throbbing cock to take a hike. How did she do this to him with a single look? One look and he was a goner.

Tim finished his beer and waited until he wouldn’t embarrass himself before leaving the kitchen. He heard a man’s voice followed by a woman’s in the living room and walked in to find Chris speaking to a large man and a petite woman standing beside him.

“Tim,” Chris said, stepping to the side. “This is Sergeant Rick Merriweather and his wife, Cheryl.”

“Nice to meet you, Tim,” Cheryl said, waving at him politely. “Chris, you have somewhere I can put your things?”

“Any room upstairs,” Tim told her when she looked at him.

“I’ll speak with Tim while you’re gone,” Merriweather told the women. Chris’ eyes narrowed and she mouthed something behind his back before heading upstairs, but Tim didn’t catch it. “She was apologizing for me, I’m sure.”

Tim wished suddenly Chris was still down here with him. “For what?”

“Because she knows me well enough to know I’m not only going to tell you you aren’t allowed to go anywhere without Chris by your side.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” Merriweather motioned to the couch, and Tim nodded for him to sit down. “If you continue to date her and do anything to hurt the woman I consider to be my little sister, I will personally come over here and find some reason to drag your ass to lockup just for the fun of it. Understand?”

Tim grinned, thinking the man was kidding, but Merriweather’s face was stone cold and his eyes even colder. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit over-protective of a grown woman?”

“No, I do not. Not after all the shit she’s been through.”

“What happened?”

“Nope, if she hasn’t told you yet, I’m not going to. That’s between you and her. I see the way you look at her, though, when she’s in the room.”

Tim sank into the chair across from him. “That bad?”

“Let’s put it this way, I gave her permission to date you because I don’t want to see her fall back into the deep, dark depression that has gripped her for the last four years.” He folded his hands on his lap and stared at the floor as Tim digested this bit of information. “It’s been hard for all of us, and whatever this happens to be between the two of you, don’t intentionally hurt her.”

Tim waited for him to elaborate, but Merriweather fell into a contemplative silence. The entire situation involving him and Chris changed in those few seconds, and he worried perhaps he shouldn’t try to pursue any more time with her. She’d told him about her family, so it clearly had nothing to do with them but a guy she’d been with.

“Was she married?” he asked quietly, shooting a glance towards the stairs.

“No, but it was headed in that direction.”

The image of the dusty desk at the station and the way Chris had been so adamant about keeping him safe and staying by his side flashed into his mind. “Jeff Carson, the detective whose desk sits by hers,” he said slowly. “Was he the one she was with?” Merriweather answered with a single nod. “What happened to him?”

“I can’t tell you. If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you.”

Tim opened his mouth to clarify the hard truth he sensed had to do with Jeff, but the women’s voices trailed down the stairs and he drew back, tucking this information away for a later time when he was alone with Chris. When she landed on the bottom stair, she shot him and Merriweather curious gazes, her brow furrowing as her eyes narrowed.

“All settled?” Tim asked.

“Yeah, I think I’m good,” she said. “What were you two talking about?”

“Laying out the ground rules, nothing more. And a patrol car will be outside at night,” Merriweather insisted. “I expect to be kept up to date on this investigation, and I’ll let you know if we find out anything about the car.”

“Who was it stolen from?” Chris asked.

Merriweather’s frown deepened, and he suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable. “No name we recognize. Keep your head down, Mr. Jones. Chris will take good care of you. Cheryl?” He held out his hand for his wife, and the two of them left through the front door.

Chris stared at the closed door for a few minutes, her hands on her hips and her tongue pushed behind her lip. “What did you two really talk about?”

“He told me I was not to leave unless it was with you,” he lied.

Chris’ narrowed gaze said she didn’t believe him. “Well, we’re in for the night, so if you want to get cleaned up from the accident, I’ve got some work to do down here.”

The words nearly slipped out of his mouth then, but he bit them back and told her to help herself to whatever she found in the kitchen. Upstairs, he turned the shower on hot and stripped out of his dirty clothes. The water dripped down his body in a waterfall as steam filled the bathroom. He was thinking he would be able to win Chris’ affection with a few simple moves and a nice compliment or two, but he knew there was no way in hell she would fall for those tricks. He wouldn’t feel right doing it to her anyway, not now, and not for a one-night roll in the hay.

She’d been with a guy before, so close they’d been on their way to being married. Something had happened and he was gone. Tim realized when Chris told him Jeff was no longer with them, she meant he was dead. How he died, that was what he wanted to know. From the way Merriweather had said it, the detective hadn’t met an expected ending. He must have been killed on the job.

Whatever this is, no one will get to you, understand me? It’s not going to happen. That’s what she’d told him so hotly. The intensity of her words hit him even harder as the pieces fell slowly into place. Jeff must have been her partner at some point when she worked homicide. Something went wrong, he died, and she blamed herself for not being able to save him. She wouldn’t make the same mistake with Tim. He never expected to be in fear for his life, and the realization there might be more attempts finally hit him head on. He leaned against the shower wall, his hands shaking, and considered his life so far.

No family to show for all his hard work and a company that might very well throw him to the curb if this didn’t turn out the way they all hoped it would. All those chances he’d had to make a change, and he let them pass by.

Because you were looking for a woman like Chris, he told himself. And here she is, needing to be saved as much as you do.

The thought bolstered his morale, and he finished showering, trying to see the brighter side of having her by his side as a bodyguard. Merriweather said it’d been four years for Chris. Four years of depression, and from the way she’d blushed when she asked him out for coffee, four years since she’d actually been with anyone.

He was wrapping a towel around his body when he heard the TV turn on downstairs. He didn’t care what she did while she was at his townhouse, but he heard the telltale music of a specific TV station and froze. He clutched the towel at his hip, closing his eyes and cursing when the opening credits of the latest movie he’d recorded blared through the living room. Without stopping to think, he sprinted out of his bedroom and bolted downstairs to the living room. Chris sat on the couch, a beer on the table before her amongst a laptop and papers, and the remote in her hand. The movie played across the screen, and she had the most bizarre look on her face, as if she couldn’t decide if she liked the fact he had cheesy romantic comedies on his TV or if she simply wanted to laugh.

“Having fun?” he asked, his chest heaving from his rush downstairs, his whole body red, but not from the steamy shower he’d just taken.

“I think I am,” she agreed, her lips curling in a grin he wanted to kiss off her face.

“What are you watching?” He knew, but he hoped maybe she’d simply found the movie on the TV and had not gone through his DVR.

She hit pause and he groaned. “Quite the collection of movies you have, Tim. I didn’t peg you as the romantic comedy type of man, and on the Hallmark channel. You are certainly a very interesting man.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“Oh, it is.”

Her gaze lingered on his bare chest, then slipped lower to the towel, the only thing blocking the rest of him from her hungry gaze. She readjusted her position on the couch, and he took the few seconds to observe her breasts beneath a tight black t-shirt and her legs in those black jeans hugging her ass all day long. He remembered the feel of her against him, and he coughed, turning away from her.

“I’ll be down in a minute, with clothes. Do you want takeout for dinner?” he called over his shoulder, needing a distraction before he did something he might regret. She might appear ready to take the next step with him, but pushing her into that situation too fast and having it blow up in his face nagged at him.

“Sure, whatever you’re in the mood for.”

“I’ll take care of it when I come back down.” What he wanted to say was he was in the mood for her, all of her. Their kiss when he thought they would be leaving the festival separately teased him. If only they could forget about the case and the near-death experience and get back to that moment.

***

Chris hit play on the movie, secretly loving the collection of movies she’d found on Tim’s DVR. She might look all badass cop, but she was a romantic at heart and missed watching these movies with Jeff. He hated them and groaned all the way through, but Tim, it seemed, enjoyed them as much as she did.

The movie was barely ten minutes in when her cell rang. She frowned at the strange number but answered it in case it was another officer from the station calling with news. “Harrison.”

“Detective Christine Harrison.” A man snorted her name. “In the flesh, so to speak.”

“Who is this?” she demanded, sitting up and pausing the movie.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? I’m sure you would after that nasty accident today.”

Her blood ran cold, and she stood, peering out the front windows. A patrol car was parked out front, watching the place. The cop spotted her, looking ready to step out of the car, but she shook her head and smiled. No need to panic, not yet. Cautiously, with her hand on her Glock, she moved through the house. Tim was still upstairs, thankfully. He didn’t need to see her doing another check on his home.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied finally. The back door was secure, as were all the windows on the ground floor.

“That red Mustang was a beauty. Too bad it was ruined.”

“Too bad you missed your mark,” she snapped and raced upstairs to find Tim. She knocked gently on his door until he opened.

“Chris?” he asked, but she placed a finger to her lips and pointed to his cell sitting on his dresser. He hurried to hand it to her, and she dialed Merriweather’s number, handing the cell to Tim and mouthed for him to keep him on the line.

“Who said I didn’t get exactly what I wanted?”

Chris’ eyes widened. “And what exactly do you want?”

“Oh, now, that’s not how we play this game. You couldn’t save the first one. Did you really think I’d make it so easy for you to save the second? I hope you enjoy your night, Detective Harrison, especially the fireworks.”

A loud click echoed in her ear, and Chris dropped her cell.

“Chris?” Tim asked again, holding out his cell for her. “Merriweather—”

“Run!” She grabbed his arm and yanked him out his bedroom door. He took off ahead of her, scooping up a meowing Mini on the way, and sprinted down the stairs and out the front door with her on his heels. When they hit the sidewalk, the cop in the squad car jumped out, asking her what was wrong. She sucked in a pained breath, turning around to glare at the townhouse. Nothing happened.

“Damn it,” she snapped.

“What’s going on?” Tim demanded.

“Detective Harrison?” the cop asked as he hurried to her. “Is someone inside?”

“No, a weird phone call,” she told them both. “I guess I overreacted.”

The word was barely out of her mouth when the townhouse exploded, the blast throwing all three of them into the street and reducing the home to rubble. Chris coughed, grimacing in pain as she sat up on her elbows and stared at the flames rising high into the night sky.

“Or not. Tim? Officer Taylor, are you all right?”

Two grunts of pain answered her, and she took them as good enough before falling back to the pavement. Sirens wailed in the distance. Chris closed her eyes, bracing against the pain as she pushed to her feet. She patted down her pockets, searching for her cell, but she’d dropped it inside the house. She’d have them trace the number. Whoever was after Tim was not only after him, apparently. He was after her as well.

Sarge couldn’t know. He’d pull her off this case before she even had a chance to understand what was going on. No, she’d keep this information to herself. Something about the voice jostled memories in her mind, but of whom she wasn’t sure. She clenched her jaw because she knew who it sounded like, but it wasn’t the same man. His voice was deeper, with more of a lilt to the end of his words. This guy was a new player. One way or another, she would find out, and they would rue the day they messed with her.