Cries in the Night (20 page)

“Whoa,” Heather gasped for breath as the kiss ended. “Are you sure you don’t want to miss dinner and go back to my apartment?”

Unfortunately, no. But he wasn’t giving up yet. “We’d better go. We’ve got plenty of time for dessert.”

He opened the door and helped her climb inside his SUV. It was pretty high off the ground, and it was a big step for her short legs, hampered even further by her tight dress. She giggled as he lifted her up until she reached the seat.

“When are you going to get a sports car like everyone else? The new Camaros are nice.”

“I like my Explorer. It gets me everywhere I need to go, no matter what kind of weather Denver throws at me.” He walked around and got into the driver’s side.

“So how many people did you save this week?” she asked as she placed her hand on his thigh.

“None. Everyone got out all by themselves,” he answered, a little bored by her usual questions.

“I have your calendar hanging next to my bed. I can’t wait until July.”

Funny. That was almost exactly what Julie had said, but somehow it had meant more coming from her. They pulled up in front of the restaurant and the valet opened Heather’s door and helped her down while Rusty stepped out and walked around the back.

It was one of his favorite restaurants. He often took dates here because the chef had a great selection of lighter meals and salads. But he always ordered one of their steaks, medium and smothered in sautéed mushrooms. He sat across from Heather and tried to listen as she rattled on about the shoe sale at Macy’s and her bad experience getting a pedicure. She paused slightly when their dinner salads arrived, then picked right back up after their entrees were served. Rusty nodded and focused on his food, trying not to be too obvious about his complete lack of interest in the conversation. Although having sex with Heather was a sure thing, avoiding a lengthy apology session about not paying attention was high on his agenda.

He wondered what Julie was having for dinner. At least she had plenty of groceries so she wouldn’t starve since she didn’t have a car. It occurred to him that he hadn’t told her that her car would be ready on Wednesday. He glanced at his phone and saw it was almost eight-thirty. He really should let her know so she wouldn’t worry.

“Excuse me a minute,” he told Heather as he pushed his chair back. “I’ll be right back.”

“Uh … sure,” Heather said, pausing in mid-sentence about who one of the Kardashians was sleeping with. As far as Rusty was concerned, it was one of the mysteries of the universe why anyone cared about any of the Kardashians.

Rusty picked up his cell phone and headed toward the restrooms. He stopped in the small open area between the men’s and the women’s bathrooms and dialed Julie’s number. It rang once, twice, three times before she answered just before it went to voice mail.

“Hello.”

He felt his body relax at the sound of her voice. It was soft and husky, like she had been asleep. “Hi, it’s me.”

“Rusty? I thought you had a date tonight.”

“I do. I mean, I’m on it now, but I just wanted to tell you that I dropped by the body shop and picked up your files.”

“Thanks, but you didn’t have to call for that.”

Now he felt like a fool. What the hell was he doing, calling her in the middle of his date? Why was he jeopardizing an evening that was guaranteed to end in a blow job? “I just wanted to tell you about your car while I was thinking about it.”

“Is it totaled?”
she asked reluctantly.

“No, it’s not too bad. It’ll be ready on …”

All of a sudden her home alarm shrieked, the sound coming through so loudly that Rusty had to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Julie,” he yelled. “Are you there? Can you hear me?”

There was a clatter as her phone hit the floor and slid across the hard wood.

Then
she screamed.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Rusty’s heart was pumping as he charged out of the restaurant. As he ran, he managed to dial
911
and report the alarm, even though he knew the monitoring company would also call. It might shorten the response time by a couple of minutes which could be the difference between life and death.

Oh God, if anything happened to Julie … he didn’t even want to consider that possibility. As he burst outside he saw his Explorer parked in a lot across the street, so he grabbed his keys off the valet board, and without waiting for their assistance, he ran across the street, jumped into his vehicle and left the lot with a squeal of tires and smoking rubber.

He cursed every red light as he raced through the icy streets, sliding around corners and passing anyone driving slower … which was everyone he encountered. He turned onto Julie’s street and saw he had beaten the cops to the scene. As he slid to a stop in front of her house, his headlights momentarily caught a big man as he ran out the front door and sprinted down the street. Rusty jumped out and gave chase, his slick-soled dress shoes sliding on the ice. Adding a new curse that he wasn’t wearing his water-proof boots with their heavy rubber soles, he followed the man’s trail across the front lawns and driveways of Julie’s neighbors. The man slipped between two houses and vaulted over a decorative iron fence. Rusty was several yards back and gaining ground. He reached the fence, but as he started to vault over it, his foot hit a patch of ice and he went down hard. Luckily, he had avoided the iron rails, but he had to hang onto them to help him stand up.

“Fuck!” he growled as he scrambled over the fence. By the time he got to the backyard, the man was gone. He continued down to the corner where all four streets were visible, but there was no sign of anyone out on such a cold night. The man could have gone in any direction. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He turned and ran back to Julie’s house, arriving just as two patrol cars slid to a stop. Out of breath and not pausing to explain, he ran in the open front door, followed closely by the cops.

“Julie!” he called, running from room to room. The alarm’s shrill siren was deafening as he checked in every closet and under the bed. She wasn’t there.

Rusty didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. The man he had seen leaving hadn’t had her with him. But that didn’t mean someone else hadn’t already taken her away somewhere.

“No sign of the resident or the perp,” one of the cops said.

“No shit,” Rusty muttered as he slumped down on one of the dining chairs. He wanted to go outside and search for clues, but he knew the cops wouldn’t appreciate his interference in their investigation. With his elbows on the table, he rested his head in his hands as his mind raced with all the possibilities. He felt dangerously close to tears of frustration and … what else? It felt like there was a rock in the pit of his stomach. Where was she? Was she okay? Was she still alive? Had she been kidnapped?

“Rusty.”

The voice was so close to his ear that he jumped. He whirled around to see Julie standing behind him punching in the code to stop the ear-splitting siren. Suddenly, there was silence which, after the high decibel sound, was almost painful.

He stood so abruptly that the chair skidded and fell backward. He grabbed her by the shoulders and realized by her wince that his grip was too tight, so he softened his hold but didn’t release her. “Julie, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Her voice was a little breathless and shaky, but she answered, “I’m fine. As soon as I heard the glass break in the kitchen and the alarm go off, I ran out the front door.”

“I heard you scream.”

“I tripped over the coffee table and dropped my phone. I don’t remember, but I must have screamed. I just knew I had to get out of here before whoever it was made it inside.”

“It was a man, about five foot ten, heavy-set. I saw him as I arrived. I tried to catch him, but these damn shoes are worthless on the ice. Any idea who it could have been?”

She shrugged. “Any one of a dozen guys I’ve dealt with. Of course, I usually meet just the victims. I don’t see the men unless I’m called into court to testify.”

“I think that’s the files we’ll start with.”

The two cops came back inside the house. One of them approached Julie.

“I assume you’re the resident,” he said. “I need you to tell me everything you saw or heard. Could we sit here at the table?”

She nodded, then repeated the whole story while the cop took notes on his pocket-sized spiral notepad. The other cop walked in.

“I just got another call. I’m heading out,” he told them, then left.

Rusty paced restlessly during the interview. He could tell by the cop’s attitude that he was dismissing this as a standard breaking and entering, not as a threat on Julie’s life. He would file a report, then move on to the half dozen other calls he would respond to tonight.

But Rusty suspected that this was anything but a typical B&E. He knew it was useless to express that to the cop. They were busy and overworked, and in this instance, there were no bodies and no blood. Time to move on to something more critical.

Several minutes later, the cop was gone and Rusty was nailing a piece of wood over the broken window. Luckily, Julie had some leftover scraps from her home remodeling in the garage, and one of them fit well enough to provide minimal protection until she could get the glass replaced tomorrow. She followed him closely, using the excuse that she had to show him where everything was, but he suspected it was because she didn’t want to be inside the house alone.

When the window was as secure as possible, they went back inside. Cat, who had been hiding somewhere in Julie’s bedroom, dared come out and join them. Julie bent over, scooped him up in her arms and hugged him close to her. She buried her face in his soft fur. Cat put up with it for a couple of minutes, but then he squirmed out of her grasp, stalked over to his food dish, hunched down and started crunching his kibbles.

Rusty saw that Julie’s head was still bent with her face buried in her hands. It didn’t take a genius to see that she was crying. His heart twisted in his chest, and he stepped closer and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t resist and actually leaned against him. The shock was wearing off, and she was trembling so much he had to hold on tight to keep her from collapsing to the floor.

Gently, he bent and swept her into his arms and carried her to the living room where he sat on the couch and cradled her on his lap. She sobbed quietly against his chest, the only outward signs was the shaking of her shoulders and the growing dampness of his shirt.

He didn’t say anything because he sensed she didn’t need encouraging words so much as she needed the comfort of knowing he was there and he would take care of her. This whole on-going assault on her security was unnerving because it was so far out of her control. She rarely needed other people, and even more rarely accepted their help. It was significant that she was accepting his.

He stroked her back and rested his cheek against the top of her head. Slowly, his intention to comfort her began to be replaced by an awareness of the very feminine body in his arms. Her fragrance was intoxicating and his fingertips
burned through the thin layers of her gown and robe. She was clearly not wearing a bra and the soft mounds of her breasts pressed against his chest.

Rusty shifted as the blood rushed to his groin in a totally masculine response to the woman on his lap. He hoped she was too distracted to notice. She had made it clear that she valued his friendship and didn’t want a more intimate relationship. But right now, being intimate with her was all he could think about.

He became aware that she had gotten very still. There was no evidence that she was still crying or even trembling. His hand stilled on her back and he held his breath. She had felt his arousal and was upset.

As much as he didn’t want her to be angry, he didn’t want her out of his arms. He was struck by how much he cared about this woman. She was like a female version of himself, ready to run into a disaster to help people but not ready to let someone get inside her own defenses. Neither of them let anyone get too close … until now. Rusty tightened his grip on her. He wanted her even closer.

Her head moved and he felt her looking up at him. Reluctantly, afraid that he would see condemnation in her eyes, he leaned back and looked down at her.

Instead of anger, he saw confusion. Instead of rejection, he saw desire. Still he hesitated, not wanting to be too presumptuous or misinterpreting the signals because of his own feelings.

Julie studied him for a moment longer, then, to his surprise, she lifted her hand to his cheek and stretched up until her lips touched his.

A jolt of electricity shot through him. As much as he wanted to show restraint, the softness of her mouth ignited a desire whose intensity shocked even him. He lowered his head to deepen the kiss. She shifted in his arms until she was at a more comfortable angle to return his embrace.

Encouraged, Rusty’s lips moved over hers. When the tip of her tongue slipped into his open mouth, he gasped. The taste of her pushed him over the edge. Slowly, he eased her back on the couch and stretched out on top of her, supporting his weight so he didn’t crush her.

Her kisses were as hungry and eager as his own. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close … as if he was likely to move away. He couldn’t remember ever being so turned on. But he had to hold back so he didn’t frighten her away.