CHAPTER 3
Despite Libby’s protests, Tony insisted the police be called and a report filed. The officers arrived, looked around, made their report, then left.
Libby and Tony worked on the cleanup long after total darkness had fallen outside. They spoke very little, but the silence between them was a companionable one.
Twilight made an appearance, taking an instant dislike to Tony. The big tomcat crawled out from his hiding place beneath the couch, hissed and spat and spent the rest of the evening sitting on his hook rug staring unblinkingly at Tony.
Libby’s anger deepened as they worked, and she realized that many of her things could not be repaired, but would have to be replaced. The television set was destroyed, as were the stereo and any other mechanical items she owned. The chair and sofa would have to be re-covered as deep rents had been slashed into them. The mattress on her bed would also have to be replaced. It had been cut and much of the filling had been pulled out.
Again and again Libby asked herself what kind of animals had been in her apartment. What could they have possibly been searching for with such vicious intensity? She was nearly overcome with exhaustion and bewilderment when she and Tony finally collapsed on the sofa, the worst of the mess straightened up.
“Thanks for all your help. It would have taken me all night to clean by myself.” She wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. “It’s just too bad we didn’t find any clues to help solve this mystery.” She looked at her watch and gasped. It was after ten o’clock. She pulled herself off the sofa. “Why don’t you just sit tight and relax for a few minutes and I’ll fix us a pot of coffee? I’d say we earned it.”
Tony nodded wearily.
“The coffee will just take a minute,” Libby called from the kitchen. She opened her refrigerator, wishing she’d bought some sort of cake or something suitable to serve with coffee. The only thing she had plenty of was cans of Twilight’s stinky cat food, and somehow that didn’t seem the proper thing to serve as a snack. She leaned against the counter tiredly, waiting impatiently for the dark brew to finish dripping through the filter.
In the living room, Tony settled back on the sofa. God, he was exhausted. He’d spent a miserable night in the cramped confines of his car, and the last thing he’d expected from the day was to be handed a mystery.
The search that had taken place both at the pawnshop and here had been total and complete, nothing left untouched. What was being sought? And was Libby as innocent in all this mess as she professed to be? It was a question his tired brain couldn’t answer. Still, innocent or not, there was something about her that challenged him, stimulated him. His back still burned from the feeling of her soft breasts pressed tightly against him.
He’d been acutely aware of her as they’d worked together to clean up the apartment. The rooms had smelled of her, a feminine scent that conjured up visions of perfumed breasts, soft thighs and evocative heat. Dangerous thoughts, he cautioned himself, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, wishing she’d hurry up and get the coffee out here so he could drink a cup and get the hell home.
“Here we go,” Libby said moments later as she carried a bamboo serving tray in from the kitchen. She stopped short at the sight of Tony stretched out on her sofa, sound asleep. She set the tray down on the coffee table, thought about waking him, then changed her mind and instead took the opportunity to study him in his sleep.
Why is it that men look so vulnerable in sleep? she wondered, noticing the way his dark hair was tousled boyishly and most of the lines in his face disappeared in total relaxation. She flushed slightly, noticing that his shirt had ridden up, exposing part of his tanned, flat abdomen.
Her body felt curiously warm and heavy as her gaze slowly traveled down the length of him. She could imagine the firm muscles of his chest beneath his shirt, the perfect symmetry of his male physique. She pressed her hands to her sides, fighting the impulse to reach out and trace with her fingertips the exposed skin of his stomach.
She recognized the emotion sweeping over her, even though it had been a very long time since she’d last felt it. Lust. She grinned, realizing that the hormones she’d nearly forgotten she possessed were kicking in with a force that was breathtaking. Lust…desire…it was ridiculous. Her pawnshop had been ransacked, her apartment broken into and she was standing in the middle of her living room floor gazing at a sleeping man and feeling like a sexually peaking woman who finds herself on a deserted island with a handsome hunk. She stifled a hysterical giggle and reached out to shake Tony awake. Before her hand could make contact with his shoulder, he twitched. She recognized the movement as the muscle spasm of a man who was totally and completely exhausted.
Under normal circumstances, she would never allow a relative stranger to spend the night on her sofa.
But these were not normal circumstances. In the past twenty-four hours her world had been turned topsy-turvy. Besides, there was a certain amount of comfort in knowing she would not be alone in the apartment.
She turned out the lights in the kitchen and living room, then went into the bathroom.
As she took off her clothes, her mind whirled with questions. She agreed with Tony’s assessment that whoever had broken into the pawnshop and here had been looking for something—but what? She racked her brain, seeking any answer that would make some sort of rational sense. But there were no answers forthcoming. She could only hope that they, whoever they were, had found what they were looking for, or realized she didn’t have it.
She threw her clothes into the hamper, then pulled on the oversize velour robe that hung on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. She shoved her jewelry into the pocket of the robe and quickly washed her face.
Ready for bed, she left the bathroom, pausing at the door of her bedroom. “Come on, Twilight,” she whispered to the cat, who was still curled up on the hook rug, eyeing the sleeping Tony suspiciously. “Come on, kitty,” she called again, but Twilight studiously ignored her. “All right, then just stay out there,” she murmured, going into her bedroom.
Always before upon entering the room, she’d felt as if she were entering a safe, warm retreat from the world. This time, the room seemed cold and alien. Even beneath the clean sheets now on the bed, the rips in the mattress could be seen. Elsewhere in the room there was further evidence of the massive search that had gone on while she had been away.
“Damn them,” she said dispiritedly, taking off the robe and slipping into the blue teddy that was her sleeping attire.
“Damn them,” she repeated, this time more forcefully. The room even smelled like something or someone strange had been in it. She crossed the small room and opened the window, breathing deeply of the cool, night air. She had no apartment insurance, having checked into it and found the premiums more than her budget could afford. She would have to replace the ruined items one at a time, as money allowed.
She sighed, finding it all overwhelmingly depressing. Overcome with a wave of tiredness, she crawled into bed, shivering slightly as her slender body attempted to get comfortable against the now-unfamiliar lumpy mattress. She shut off the bedside lamp and sighed again. What the hell was happening to her life?
* * *
Libby awoke suddenly to find a huge hand shoved over her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered open and in those first split seconds of instant awakeness, her mind registered several things. First was the fact that her bedroom window was now wide open. Secondly, she was intensely conscious of the man leaning over her, his hand clamped harshly against her mouth to still any scream that might touch her lips. Although the room was too dark for her to see anything except a bulky silhouette, she could smell him, a scent of sour perspiration and danger. The last realization that struck her was that she was in trouble. Her heartbeats came fast and furious as she struggled impotently against the big man who held her down against the bed.
“Where is it?” his guttural voice demanded.
Even in her terror, a ridiculous thought struck her. How did he expect her to answer his question when he had his grimy hand shoved halfway down her throat? Following on the heels of this thought came anger, a growing rage that took precedence over her fear.
How dare this slimy creature come into her bedroom in the middle of the night and place his filthy hand against her mouth, demanding answers to questions she didn’t even begin to understand?
Instinctively she fought back the only way possible. She bit down on his hand as hard as she could, immediately tasting the coppery tanginess of blood. The man staggered backward, away from the bed with a strangled cry of pain. Mouth free, Libby let loose an ear-piercing scream.
Her bedroom door exploded open as Tony burst into the bedroom. The intruder, with a muttered curse, quickly crawled through the bedroom window and disappeared.
Libby scrambled for the bedside lamp, relief coursing through her as the bedroom was instantly illuminated. She turned to see Tony climbing out the window in hot pursuit.
She swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, still able to taste the salty texture of the stranger’s skin. She eyed the window in trepidation, wondering what was happening. Where was Tony? What was going on?
As she sat anxiously waiting, she became conscious of sounds in the apartment. The drip-drip-drip of the bathroom faucet. The loud hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen. Her digital clock radio clicked off each minute that passed. Where was Tony? Why was he taking so long to return? Had he caught up with the intruder? Were they at this very moment struggling on the dark streets outside?
A cold knot of terror formed in the pit of her stomach and she clenched her hands tightly until her nails entered her palms.
She jumped and screamed as a loud report echoed in the night. Oh, God, was it a gunshot? Or was it simply a car backfiring? Was Tony at this very moment lying in the street wounded…or worse…? What was happening? What was happening?
Her eyes widened in fear as she heard steady footsteps climbing up the fire escape outside the bedroom window. Frantically, she looked around for something that could be used as a weapon. She grabbed a heavy brass candlestick and hefted it over her head, frozen as the footsteps came closer and closer to the bedroom window.
She expelled a sob of relief and dropped the candlestick to the floor as Tony stepped back through the window. “Tony…I was so afraid…” She scrambled off the bed and came to stand next to him, her face blanching as she saw his torn shirt and the bright red blood that slowly trickled down his chest. “Oh…you’re bleeding,” she gasped. “Are you shot? Sit down. Should I call for an ambulance?”
“Libby.” His sharp voice cut through her rising hysteria. “Sit down,” he commanded, the thunder in his voice causing her knees to buckle beneath her. She fell onto the edge of the bed.
He tucked his gun back into the top edge of his boot and wiped at the bright trickle of blood with the back of his hand. “I am not hurt.” He enunciated each word precisely. “Unless cat scratches have suddenly become life-threatening wounds.”
She looked at him blankly. “Cat scratches?”
He nodded. “When you screamed, that wildcat you own took a flying leap from the rug to the sofa, landing on me with all claws bared.”
Libby breathed a tremulous sigh of relief. “At least Twilight has had all his shots.” She looked at the angry wounds on his chest and stood up from the bed. “But those should at least be cleaned out with some peroxide. Come on into the bathroom.”
She led him into the bathroom, where she motioned for him to take off his shirt and sit down on the edge of the tub. She then grabbed some cotton balls and a bottle of peroxide.
“What happened to the man?” she asked, trying to keep her mind off the smooth firmness of his chest beneath her fingertips, off the attractive wild male scent that emanated from him.
“He got away.” Tony’s dark eyebrows slanted into a frown. “He jumped into a car that was waiting for him at the end of the street. What, exactly, happened before I got into your room?”
“I woke up to a hand shoved across my mouth and a guy asking, ‘Where is it?’” She grimaced, remembering the feel of the man’s hand against her lips.
“That’s all he said?” Tony asked tersely, waving her away impatiently and striding back into the bedroom where he began to pace back and forth in agitation.
She nodded and followed him into the bedroom. “Who are these people and what do they want from me?” The question was directed more to herself than at him.
“How the hell should I know?” Tony retorted impatiently. “It’s you they’re after, or at least something you have—but of course you have no idea what any of this is all about.”
She reacted violently to the ill-concealed sarcasm that was heavy in his voice. “I don’t have any idea what this is all about. I don’t know what that man wanted from me.” Her eyes narrowed. “Besides, you’re the detective around here—you’re supposed to be trained to deal with all sorts of criminals. That man crept into my room and could have done God-knows-what to me. If I hadn’t managed to scream, you would have slept through the whole thing,” she finished indignantly.
Tony’s eyes turned black, dazzling with fury. “I didn’t know you’d be stupid enough to leave the window open right next to the fire escape. Why didn’t you just send them an engraved invitation for them to break in again?”
For a moment they stared at each other, their anger and frustration a living, breathing presence between them. It was Tony who finally broke the silence, shaking his head as if to steady himself. “This is getting us nowhere fast.” His expression was a mask of stone, virtually unreadable. “We’re both tired and overwhelmed by what’s happened.” He paused thoughtfully, then continued, “I think the thing to do is get you out of here right away.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to let some creep force me out of my own home,” she returned, eyeing him defiantly.
In one swift motion, his powerful hands grabbed her and pulled her to him. His eyes were hard and cold as he gazed down at her, and her body began to tremble against him.
“This is not a game, Libby. This is not the time to be stubborn and indignant. These men are professionals and those were real bullets they fired at me. They want something from you, and until we figure out what it is, you aren’t safe. They know where you live—they’ve been here twice already. They’ll be back. You’re in danger here. Do you understand?”
She nodded numbly, unable to speak as her throat was achingly dry. She was suddenly very much aware of the fact that her scantily clad body was pressed tightly against his. She could feel his heartbeat against her skin, smell the rich maleness of him all around her. She was in danger here. Yes, she felt the danger, but she didn’t know if at this very moment she was more afraid of the unknown men who wanted something from her, or the fire she saw in Tony’s eyes—a smoldering flame that promised an intoxicating heat.
He dropped his arms from around her and stepped back. “Get a bag together. We’re getting out of here.” His voice was hoarse. He turned and went into the living room, leaving her to stare numbly after him.
For a moment Libby stood unmoving, a tumble of confusion and emotions assailing her. It had been a long time since she’d felt any stirrings of sexual desire, but twice in a single evening Tony had managed to remind her that she was a normal woman with a normal woman’s wants and needs.
“Okay, so you’re human,” she muttered, rousing herself from the lethargy that had momentarily gripped her. That didn’t mean she was anxious to follow through on the sparks of desire that had arced between Tony and herself. After all, she hardly knew the man and wasn’t even sure she liked him.
She quickly grabbed a few items from her closet and bathroom and shoved them into a suitcase. As she dressed, she kept her mind carefully schooled with numbness. She was unable to comprehend the forces that were driving her from her home, and unwilling to dwell on the force that crackled the air between herself and the man in the next room.
With a final look around the bedroom, she grabbed her suitcase and walked out.
Tony was pacing the living room floor, his movements as agile and lithe as a leopard’s. He’d pulled his shirt back on, effectively hiding the smooth skin that had earlier tormented her. He turned as she entered the room and his mouth curved into a tight smile. “Ready?”
She nodded, clutching her suitcase tightly in her hand, wondering what they were going to do, where they were going to go. Was she a fool to trust this man? What did she know of him really? What other choice did she have?
“Let’s get out of here before we encounter any more unwelcome guests.” He opened the apartment door, looking out to make sure nobody suspicious lurked in the darkened hallway. Libby started to leave the apartment, then turned back with a cry of dismay. “Twilight. What am I going to do about Twilight?” She looked at Tony helplessly. “I can’t just leave him here all alone.”
Tony sighed with resignation and touched the scratches on his chest. “I guess we’ll have to bring him along,” he said unhappily.
With a grateful look, she handed him her suitcase, then called to the cat, who had taken refuge beneath the sofa earlier. The cat came willingly to Libby, who scooped him up in her arms and followed Tony out the apartment door.
“I feel like I picked up a mystery novel to read and skipped the first four chapters,” she exclaimed as they rode the elevator down to the first floor.
“I sure wish you’d go back and read those chapters so we’d know exactly what we’re dealing with,” Tony returned wryly.
They didn’t speak again until they were in his car. “Where are we going?” she asked, buckling her seat belt.
“My place. You’ll be safe there.”
Libby stroked the cat in her lap. Yes, she supposed she would be okay at his place. At least the people who were after her wouldn’t know where she was. But safe? She remembered that moment in her bedroom when Tony’s eyes had flamed with the fire of something much different than anger. Her body had responded with a warmth of its own, as if wanting to match his heat.
Safe? She wondered just how safe she really would be.