The Devil She Knows (12 page)

Stepping around him, Willow reached for the phone and dialed a number. She said, “Sheriff Grant please. This is Willow Portis and I need to report someone’s broken into my home. No, nothing’s been taken. At least not that I’ve noticed yet.” She listened for several seconds before nodding her head in a short, quick motion. “Thanks. I’ll be waiting.”

“No, you won’t. Call back and tell Grant to meet us at my house.”

Her soft, lush lips pulled into a tight frown. She glared at him. “I’m not going anywhere, Dev. The sheriff’s going to want to take a look around. If you want to leave, feel free.”

No way in hell. “I’ll wait for him, then. I want you out of here. Someone broke into your house and left you a threat.”

It was her turn to point. “That’s hardly a threat.”

Dev’s eyebrows slammed down over his eyes. Frustration and fear churned into a poisonous mix in the pit of his stomach. His hands clenched into useless fists at his sides. Why was she being so damn stubborn?

“It sure as hell isn’t an invitation to a tea party.”

A sound wheezed out of her throat, a combination of anxiety and laughter. Her shoulders finally slumped, losing that ramrod stiffness. It had been just as much of a disguise as the mask she’d worn a couple of days ago, a comfortable facade hiding the worry she was feeling.

Dev wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight, but he wasn’t sure she’d appreciate the gesture so he held back.

“No, I don’t suppose it is,” she said. “I never liked tea much, anyway. More of a coffee girl.”

He wanted to argue further, but the sound of a siren in the distance made the point moot. Damn, Grant was fast.

Turning on her heel, Willow headed to the front door to wait for him. The police cruiser sped down the street, painting the neighborhood with revolving red and blue. The effect was as sure as a stone being dropped into water. The ripple of doors opening down the street in the wake of the car as it shot past was inevitable.

Willow groaned and slumped against the frame of her open front door. “Great, something else for everyone to gossip about. Why did he have to use the siren? I’m fine.”

There was no love lost between Dev and Sheriff Grant. There’d been a time when Grant had ridden his ass, popping up in a constant quest to find something damning—drugs, open alcohol containers, proof that he was no better than his father.

Dev had resented the assumption and the constant scrutiny. At the moment, though, he had to grudgingly admit that the man was good at his job. He appreciated that Grant hadn’t wasted any time getting over here. The sooner this was settled the sooner he could get Willow away from danger.

Grant stepped from his vehicle, turning off the siren but leaving the lights whirling. He looked Dev up and down, his mouth pulling into a forbidding frown.

“Warwick.” How could one word be infused with so much animosity?

But Dev refused to rise to the bait. He was no longer a rebellious twenty-year-old, bent on breaking every rule. And he needed Grant to do his job right now more than he needed an argument.

“Sheriff.” Dev held out his hand. “I appreciate you getting here so quickly. I tried to convince Willow to leave, but she wouldn’t. I don’t think anyone’s still in the house, but we didn’t really check.”

Something flashed behind the other man’s eyes, but Dev couldn’t quite figure out what it was before it disappeared again. Nodding his head in understanding, Grant asked them to wait outside while he looked around the house. Dev was all too happy to oblige, although it did irritate him that Willow didn’t bother to argue with the sheriff when she’d been quick to tell him no when he was the one trying to protect her.

Drawn by the spectacle, neighbors flooded into Willow’s front yard.

“Willow, are you all right?”

“What happened?”

Dev took a step away from the knot of people forming around her. Most of them ignored him, although several shot him calculating glances, no doubt trying to figure out just what he’d been doing at Willow’s house.

She smiled, the twist of her lips a little brittle and tired as she assured everyone that she was okay. She’d only mentioned the photograph to Grant. To everyone else she just said her place had been broken in to.

The response from her neighbors was a mixed bag—horror, indignation and a little apprehension. It was inevitable that they’d go home and check the locks on their own doors twice tonight, wondering if there was a serial burglar and their house would be next.

Dev didn’t think so. The message on that picture had been for Willow. This was personal.

But he had no idea why. And that’s probably what bothered him the most. Who would want to hurt Willow? She was the sweetest woman he’d ever met. Everyone in town had to know that she’d do anything for anybody. Hell, he’d already received several warnings against hurting her, some from people he didn’t even know.

Dev watched as she dealt with everyone, calming fears and reassuring the cluster of people even though she’d been the one to have her sense of security violated.

“It seems like everyone in the neighborhood is here.” A soft voice sounded at his elbow. Dev’s body jerked. He hadn’t realized anyone was paying any attention to him.

Glancing down, he was surprised to find Erica Condon next to him. Her posture mirrored his, her focus on the knot of people around Willow just as his had been.

“It does. Do you live close by?”

Nodding, she gestured across the street and a couple houses down. “That’s my parents’ house, although it’s mine now. They both died a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.” Dev frowned. What was that supposed to mean? But, before he could ask, she changed topics as if she’d been talking about nothing more important than the weather. “What happened?”

“Someone broke into Willow’s house.”

“That’s unusual. We don’t have a lot of crime in Sweetheart, and this is a good area.”

“No place is perfectly safe.”

“True, but summer’s usually when we have the most trouble, when the rental cottages out by the lake are full of outsiders.”

Dev shrugged. That might be true, but he probably knew better than most just how much trouble an insider could cause in Sweetheart if he really wanted to. But either way, that wasn’t the point. Not that he intended to tell Erica.

She was nothing more than a nosy neighbor.

Grant’s silhouette filled Willow’s front door. Despite being in his early forties, the man was still formidable. Dev supposed that was a good trait to have in a sheriff.

Taking the cue, the knot of people who’d formed began to drift away, leaving Willow so that she and Grant could talk.

Without a word, he fell into step behind her as she crossed the lawn and walked up the four steps to her porch.

Grant didn’t pull any punches. “Don’t think anything’s missing, but I’d like you to take a look anyway, just to be sure. The picture’s obviously a message, although you might have a better idea what it means.”

Willow shook her head. “I have no idea. But...” She glanced at Dev out of the corner of her eye. “You should probably know it was taken last night in the alley close to the diner.”

Grant’s mouth thinned, but he nodded. Cool gray eyes swung to Dev. “I suppose you’re the guy?”

He didn’t bother to explain. Stepping behind Willow, he wrapped an arm around her waist and laid his hand possessively across her hip, pulling her back against his body. She stiffened, but didn’t try to break free.

“Yes.”

“I won’t give y’all a lecture about public indecency.”

“I appreciate that.”

“But y’all should be more careful next time.” Returning his focus to Willow he continued, “I’ll file a report, but there’s really not much I can do. I’ll take the picture and dust it for prints, although it’ll be a while before we get anything back...assuming I can find some.”

“Thank you,” Dev said, holding his hand out to the other man. “Willow will be at my place if you find anything.”

“No, I won’t.”

Both of them turned to stare at her. She crossed her arms over her chest. Dev didn’t think she had any idea that the posture pushed the swell of her breasts high against the cut of her shirt.

All the desire he’d suppressed came rushing back with a hard ache that nearly had him gasping. But the challenging glitter in her eyes told him she wasn’t interested...at least, not at this precise moment.

She was braced for an argument, and he had no problems giving it to her. At least it was an outlet for the passion thumping just beneath his skin.

“Yes, you will. It isn’t safe for you to stay here, Willow.”

“I will not be run out of my home, Dev. While I’ll admit I’m a little unsettled that someone got in here, if they’d wanted to hurt me they could have just waited and attacked when I came home.”

“Maybe they were planning to, until I showed up.”

“We would have heard them leaving, Dev. No one was here. But it’s possible someone is watching, and I refuse to slink away with my tail tucked between my legs. I won’t give them the satisfaction.”

Dev’s eyes narrowed, evaluating her and trying to determine just where the chinks in her armor were so he could exploit them. Over his years of negotiating with potential clients, he’d gotten very good at discovering which buttons to push to get the results he wanted—it was one reason his business had become so successful.

But before he could act on what he saw, Willow said, “Don’t even think about it.”

“About what?”

“Trying to convince, argue or cajole your way into getting what you want. I’m not leaving, Dev, and there’s nothing you can say to change my mind.” She swung her gaze to Grant who’d stood by silently and watched the entire exchange. “Or you. I know how to call if I need help.”

Obviously realizing that whatever he said would be a waste of breath, Grant nodded. “Don’t be stupid. Anything feels out of place or off, you call me. Don’t worry about interrupting or bothering me. This is my job, Willow, and I’d rather rush over and investigate every strange bump than get a call that something terrible has happened.”

He pulled out a card, wrote a number on the back and handed it to her. “My cell number. Use it.”

Willow stared down at the tiny square of white for a moment before taking it. “Fair enough.”

She started to turn to walk the sheriff out, but Grant stalled her. “Warwick, why don’t you come out to the cruiser with me. There are a couple things I’d like to talk to you about.”

Willow’s eyebrows slammed down. “Don’t you look at me that way,” Grant countered before she could protest. “You said your piece and we’re both going to let you make your own decisions, but that means you don’t get to argue about this.”

Her shoulders rose and fell on a heavy breath. “Fine,” she ground out between clenched teeth, but turned away instead of saying more.

Grant gestured Dev forward, following him back out to the driveway. Dev paused beside the car. Grant reached inside and the whirling colors stopped, plunging them both into a sharp darkness. It had gotten late while they’d dealt with all the crap and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the loss of light.

But when he did, he could see the other man staring grimly at him.

“You staying tonight?”

“Of course,” he answered. Even if she made him sleep on the sofa there was no way Dev was leaving her alone.

Grant just nodded.

“You hurt her and you’ll have me to answer to. And we both know how much of a pain in the ass I can be when I want to. I can make every moment of your time here in Sweetheart miserable.”

“What is with everyone? I have no intention of hurting her.”

“Why would anyone suspect you didn’t? Ten years ago you ruined her sister’s marriage and fled town instead of sticking by Rose’s side to help her deal with the mess you made.”

Dev’s jaw tightened. A few weeks ago he would have said he no longer cared what anyone in Sweetheart thought about him—or what had happened. Apparently he’d been wrong.

It bugged the shit out of him, but he was under no illusions that anyone would be interested in the truth now. They hadn’t been back then, and nothing had changed. Everyone expected the worst and saw what they wanted.

“Rose made that mess all on her own. And there was no way I could stick around even if there’d been a reason to. My grandfather kicked me out and told me he never wanted to see my face again. So I left.”

Grant’s hands clenched tight on the top of the open car door standing between them. His knuckles went white with tension.

“Don’t ruin Willow the way you did Rose.”

“I have no intention of ruining anyone.” Dev wanted to choke back a reassurance—this man didn’t deserve it—but it escaped anyway. “Willow’s special. Always has been. I’m not stupid. Or blind.”

Grant’s hold eased, the blood rushing back into his abused fingers. The man studied him with the sharp eyes of someone who’d seen a lot and had developed the ability to separate fact from fiction.

Dev stood, accepting the scrutiny. Even as it bothered him, he realized Grant was only trying to protect Willow.

Finally, Grant nodded and folded down into the driver’s seat. Reaching for the door, he said, “I’ll give you a call if we find anything.” Dev supposed that was the closest he was going to get to acceptance.

He’d lived in the South, around possessive, protective men, long enough. He could read between the lines. Should Forensics find anything, Grant wouldn’t be calling Willow...he’d be calling Dev.

He just hoped Willow never found out.

9

W
ILLOW MOVED THROUGH
the kitchen, trying not to let her attention stray to the table where the photograph had been waiting. She wasn’t going to let anyone chase her from her own home.

It was late. She was hungry. And no doubt Dev would be, as well. Feeding him was the least she could do considering he’d stuck with her through everything.

The night had definitely not gone the way either of them had hoped.

She sighed, trying to push her own disappointment away, and stirred the strips of chicken, bell pepper and onions she’d thrown into a pan. Tortilla shells were already heating in the microwave, and bowls of lettuce, tomatoes and cheese waited on the island countertop behind her.