Morgan handed her the helmet and helped her on to his bike. Of course he’d seen how tired she was. He took his spot and turned on the engine, pulling out of the parking spot.
Silently, she watched him handle the bike, loving the effortless way he handled all that power. He was so damn strong and capable. Something she’d always admired.
Now she needed his caring and although she might protest, it was a token protest. He was too in charge for anything else.
Besides, she had no strength for anything else. Now that she was on the bike heading home, she realized how much her shoulder, arm, and damn it, her chest hurt from just that little bit. It sucked, but it was the truth.
She was tired enough to sleep. Her mind floated as Morgan drove them home. Where the hell had her damn design gone? It wasn’t major, but it was enough to piss her off. And if it was gone, was anything else? She didn’t keep anything very valuable at the shop unless you counted the designs. Then of course, in that way everything at the shop was valuable. It was her artwork.
Morgan’s phone beeped as they drove into the garage. She struggled off on her own while he pulled out his phone.
“Hello?”
Standing up, his gaze always on her to make sure she didn’t need his help, he appeared to listen to whoever was on the other side of the phone. She didn’t give a damn who it was. She just wanted to go inside and lie down. Motioning to him that’s what she was doing, she waited for his nod, then turned and headed for the house. She didn’t have keys – that was the first obstacle. But then she found the deck door open. She headed inside and went straight to the bed. Getting her boots off was a second problem and by the time she was done, she was damn near in tears. Without bothering about the clothes, she lay down on her good side, relaxed into the thick mattress, and closed her eyes.
And couldn’t sleep.
She lay there, letting her body relax, her shoulder finding it hard to get comfortable. She rolled over onto her back and shifted it yet again. Nope. That way hurt. This way ached. Finally, she shifted so she was propped up against the headboard. And groaned. Her shoulder might feel better, but her back hurt like shit.
She was just going to have to break down and take a pain pill, or at least an anti-inflammatory. The muscles were starting to seize. If it was easier to get in and out of her clothes, she’d consider a hot bath. Instead she was struggling here. Her pills were on the night table beside her. She opened the top and shook out two. There was no water. Damn it. She struggled back to her feet and walked into the bathroom. She filled a glass and swallowed the pills and looked around casually.
And froze.
On the mirror, a single piece of tape holding it up, was a poor quality image of yet another dragon tattoo on a naked butt cheek.
She swallowed hard, lowered her glass to the counter very slowly, and tried to still the quaking sensation inside her. A stranger had walked through Morgan’s house and taped this to his bathroom mirror. They’d been gone 2 to 3 hours tops. So the stalker had been watching the house. Knew when they were gone and had likely come in immediately, because no one could know how long they’d be gone. She hadn’t even known.
They hadn’t seen anyone when they left, and they hadn’t seen anyone when they’d come home.
She forced air out of her tight chest. She could do this. She could handle this. She pulled her phone out and called Morgan. Moving her feet and running toward him was her first choice, but she didn’t think she could force her legs to move. And if they did finally get in gear, she’d bolt clear across town, not stopping until she had put this stalker bullshit into her rearview mirror.
He answered on the first ring. “Hey sweetie, what’s up?”
“I need you now. We were left another gift.” And without thinking, she closed her phone on his yell.
She stared down at it. How stupid. She should have kept talking. She quickly redialed but only got a busy signal. Of course, he was trying to call her.
She closed her eyes and focused. Someone was watching the house. Someone had broke in and left this behind. The next question was what else had they done? Had they taken anything? Her gaze swept over the bathroom. She didn’t want to touch anything else but knew the chances of the person having left fingerprints behind weren’t great. They were smart enough to get in and out, so they were smart enough to wear gloves.
“Jazz!”
“I’m in the bathroom,” she called out. He was there at her side before she had a chance to finish.
Wordless, she pointed to the bathroom mirror.
“Fuck,” he said in a low, deadly voice. His jaw locked down and a muscle pulsed at the side of his neck.
“I can’t see anything else out of place,” she said in an apologetic tone. “You should probably look as you’d have a better idea.”
He nodded. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She motioned to the image. “There’s a 2 on it.”
“So we have three dead men with dragon tattoos? And you don’t recognize this one either?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “If you don’t, you don’t.”
“No, but it would help identify the victims if I did.”
He stilled. “I wonder.”
She pulled back slightly so she could look up at him. “What?”
He leaned closer to the paper and studied the image. “I wonder if they are actually dead.”
She gasped. “Oh, I never considered that. After seeing the first man in the morgue, I naturally assumed…”
“And that’s a problem. Because there’s nothing natural about this.”
He had his phone out and called the cops as she studied the little bit of flesh she could see on the image. There was no way to know if the man was dead or not. In fact, she was assuming it was a male butt, however, that didn’t make it so. This image also only showed one cheek. So not a good enough look to distinguish the sex or vitality of the person.
Morgan stepped away from her as he reported the find to the same cop they’d been dealing with so far. It definitely made it wiser to keep working with the same officials. She couldn’t imagine trying to explain these events to different cops over and over again.
She walked into the bedroom and wandered the room. It looked the same to her, but she knew the cops would ask if anything else was disturbed. She couldn’t see anything. She had minimal clothing here and it was all sitting in the top drawer that Morgan had quickly emptied for her. At the time she’d never questioned it, but now she realized that anyone looking at the dresser would know for sure that she’d moved in.
Did that matter?
She had no idea. Opening the top drawer, she realized it must have mattered because her few personal items had been tossed. Her folded clothing was no longer folded and her few toiletries had been dumped from the small bag she carried them in.
“Morgan?” She turned to see him shutting off the phone. “The drawer has been tossed.”
He frowned and walked over. His frown deepened when he saw it and he immediately reached to pull out the next drawer. It appeared untouched. He checked them all, but only the first drawer appeared disturbed.
She strode to the night table on her side of the bed. She thought she’d put a few items in there but couldn’t remember.
She pulled the drawer open, but only the book she’d been reading was there. And it appeared to be fine.
Next she turned her attention to the bed. If her drawer had been tampered with… had the bed? She tossed the covers back and searched through the layers. It appeared to be fine. She straightened the bed, realizing there was an odd silence behind her. She turned to see Morgan studying her intently.
She gave a self-conscious shrug. “I figured if they tossed my clothing, they might have done something to my side of the bed.”
“And did they?” he asked.
“Not that I can see.”
He nodded and went to his side where he systematically checked it over.
“Nothing here either.”
“Good.
Unable to leave it alone, she dropped to her knees and checked underneath. After a quick search of the empty space, she stood up again and shook her head. “Just the wire from the phone.”
“Good.” He turned his head. “I think that’s the police here now.”
She walked to the window just in time to see the cruiser pull up into the driveway. “It’s them.”
He nodded and walked out. She stayed where she could look out at the world, wondering at the creepy layer she’d bumped up against. She knew crime was out there. And all other sorts of nasty things, but she’d been relatively untouched until now.
She’d heard complaints from others but she hadn’t had any personal experience on the issue. Now, she not only could sympathize, she was equally terrorized. Morgan had re-entered her life, and everything was as deep and dark this time as it had been light and superficial last time.
Things were different this time around. More serious. Older. And with all the troubles, they’d gotten a lot closer. Somewhere along the way, she’d realized she did trust him. She wasn’t sure that she trusted him to not walk away again but she knew he’d do his best to keep her safe. And that meant a lot. Now to keep him safe, too.
Voices coming up the stairs finally reached her. She nodded to the same cop that they dealt with each time and motioned to the bathroom. She felt his sharp gaze but ignored it. What was there to say? He walked into the bathroom and several men followed. She shifted to the chair by the window and slumped lower. In the background, she heard Morgan explain where they’d gone and how it had been there when they got home. He explained about the drawer. She opened her eyes to watch as the cop opened the drawer and checked the contents himself. Great. More strangers rummaging through her underwear. She had an impulse to throw the whole damn lot out and buy new.
She rubbed a hand over her forehead and sighed. “We didn’t check your closet.”
“His closet?” the cop asked delicately.
“Yes, I don’t have anything in here. Just what I brought for a few days after the shooting,” she muttered. “I don’t actually live here.”
He nodded.
“But you knew enough to check the bed?” he asked with a tinge of humor in his voice.
“No, I was just afraid that if it was my clothing, then maybe they messed with my side of the bed.” She watched as the men turned and looked at the bed. “But I didn’t see anything, so it was probably just my imagination.”
“What was your imagination?” he asked.
“The bedding looked disturbed. Not like I thought I’d left it. But I wasn’t thinking clearly, so I don’t know.”
Just then, Morgan gave a strangled sound and launched himself toward the bed. “Earlier you said the only cord was from the phone.”
She nodded. He moved the bed out of the way and the cops crowded in beside him. The bed was shoved over and angry mutterings rose above their heads.
She watched, her curiosity rising by the minute.
“Morgan, what’s wrong?”
With an angry expletive, he turned and held something in his hand. “It’s a camera embedded into the headboard.”
A camera. On the headboard. Watching them.
She raced off the chair and just barely made it to the toilet before her stomach emptied.
*
Morgan winced as he heard Jazz heaving in the bathroom. He glanced over at the cop, the camera, the cords dangling in his hand from the way he’d ripped this out. In a hard tone, he asked, “Can you do anything with this?”
The cop shrugged. “Maybe. We might have done more if you had left it in place.”
“That couldn’t happen.” He tilted his head in the direction of Jazz.
The cop nodded in understanding. “We need to search the room to make sure there aren’t more.”
Anger rose up, sending a wave of red through his mind and brain. “There had better not be.” He turned to look around the bedroom. “Where the fuck would they be?”
“Easy. Let my team search the house. Take Jazz downstairs and let us do this.”
Morgan glared at him. His fists clenched. Damn it, he wanted to beat something.
“Morgan.” Jazz leaned against the bathroom doorjamb. He dropped the camera in the cop’s hand, realizing he was right. He walked over to Jazz’s side and placed an arm around her. “Come on, we’re going downstairs. The cops are going to search for more.”
He could feel the shudders rippling down her slight frame. He hated to bring up the concept, but they had to make sure. “They are going to search the entire house. We’re going downstairs and put on coffee. They won’t need long.”
She nodded, and he led her out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the stairs. She glanced back once. “Do you think they watched?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “No, I don’t,” he said firmly. “I think they installed it today. They used the image as a distraction to stop us from looking further.”
“That makes no sense. As soon as you know someone has been here, aren’t you automatically going to search the rest of the room at the bare minimum?”
“Maybe, and we found something, right? You found your clothing tossed.”
She nodded slowly.
He managed to get her into the kitchen and onto a chair. “The cops are here. They will be looking for anything and everything. We’ll give them time to do their thing and we’ll stay out of their way.” He bustled around and filled the coffeepot and ground the beans. By the time he had it dripping, he had found the rest of the muffins and placed them on the table with two cups.
Jazz sat like a zombie and stared out the window. The look on her face… he winced. She looked like her world had shattered.