Chapter Five

Andi sat in her truck in front of the house, rocking back and forth as she waited impatiently for Agent Cox to arrive. Her stomach twisted into knots, and she rocked faster, biting her lower lip. Cox didn’t have to tell her to wait outside, because she had less than zero intention of going in there alone. Based upon what little she’d seen, whoever had done this was angry. Really angry.

Sofa and chair cushions slashed open and thrown to the floor, white springy stuffing everywhere. Furniture broken as if someone had taken an ax to things. She could only imagine the damage inflicted on the rest of the house.

Groaning, she replayed her conversation with Special Agent Cox. She’d railed at the poor man, mistakenly assuming he and his band of merry agents and state troopers had returned to search the house again after she’d left for the DPC. “What a jackass I am.”

There’d been no need for them to come back and trash the place. Logic aside, there was something so violent about the way the house had been ransacked, as if whoever had done this wanted to send a message. A thoroughly mean message.

She let out an unsteady breath, thankful she hadn’t been there when they’d broken in. Who knew what they would have done to her?

Engines purred as two vehicles came down the road then slowed before pulling into the driveway. The first was a black Charger, and the second was a state police Explorer. Nick Houston? Perhaps, although just because it was a state police vehicle didn’t mean it was him behind the wheel. The state police must have hundreds of officers. But when the Explorer came to a stop, she noticed the K-9 emblem on the side door panel, and her heart beat a little faster. After the embarrassing shower debacle, she’d prefer to never lay eyes on him again.

She left her truck parked on the street and headed up the driveway. Cox got out of the Charger. A moment later, Nick Houston rounded the hood of the Explorer, pausing to look at the house across the street, then to the properties on either side of Joe’s.

Nervous energy invaded her body. Something about seeing Nick again made her feel… What? She struggled to find the correct word to describe her prickly, charged response to the man’s presence. Annoyed? No, that didn’t explain her nervousness. Edgy? Yes, definitely that, but why? Because he has a badge and a gun? No. Cox was a gun-toting, badge-carrying federal agent, but he didn’t elicit any of those feelings in her, not even close. Make that not at all.

Unlike Cox’s, Nick’s sharp gaze didn’t immediately settle on her the second he got out of his vehicle. As she joined them in front of the house, he continued surveying his surroundings, searching for threats with subtle yet calculated glances. The man had a soldier-like air of invincibility about him, as if no one could get past his deadly defenses.

“Ms. Hardt,” he said, coming to stand beside her, and when he canted his head, she noted the color of his hair reminded her of sandy New England beaches and caramel. Rich sandy-brown.

“Call me Andi.” She cleared her throat, focusing on his eyes, which were softer than gunmetal gray, her original assessment. More like sterling silver with a touch of blue. Blue steel. “After all, since I’m still a suspect there may be silver bracelets in my future, and I like to be on a first-name basis with any man who gives me jewelry.”

His lips twitched. Full, sensual lips. And was that a glimmer of humor twinkling in his eyes?

Couldn’t be. She must have imagined it.

“Andi, then,” he said unexpectedly. She’d have bet twenty cappuccinos that he wouldn’t have embraced such informality. Not a take-no-prisoners kind of cop like him.

A warm breeze whispered through the trees, bringing with it his clean, citrusy aftershave mixed with the smell of freshly oiled leather. An entire day in this heat and humidity and the man still smelled great and looked all clean and pressed. The only evidence of the long day he’d had was the faint growth of beard on his jaw.

No fair. With her shorts and shirt sticking to her, she must look worse than something the cat dragged in.

“Agent Cox,” she said, quickly holding out her hand to Mr. FBI, which he shook. “I need to apologize for my rude behavior over the phone. I realize now that you had nothing to do with this.”

“No need for apologies.” He held up his other hand, stopping her from continuing with more contrite explanations. “You’ve had a rough day.”

Ya think? “I definitely have. When this is all over and you unfreeze my account and stop believing that I’m part of a criminal organization, I’d like to extend an invitation to both of you to stop by the DPC for lunch. On me, of course.”

Cox smiled, then shot Nick a conspiratorial look. She narrowed her eyes. What’s up with that? “Thank you for the invitation,” the agent said, his smile gone now. “Someday, perhaps. Now let’s go inside and have a look.”

She led the way to the front door and pointed out the scratch marks near the lock. When they entered the house, it was worse than the brief glimpse she’d gotten earlier.

There wasn’t one piece of furniture in the living room that remained unscathed. Splintered wood lay everywhere. Cushion filling hung from the hallway chandelier. As they walked into the dining room, she sucked in a breath. Joe’s beautiful wood dining table had deep cut marks over most of the surface.

“I’ll call it in.” Nick clicked the microphone on his shoulder and reported the break-in to the Ludlow police department.

“You won’t be the investigating officers?” She looked from Nick to Cox. Not that she totally trusted them, but she had to admit that, under the circumstances, they’d been fair and courteous in their dealings with her.

“At this point, we can’t be sure this has anything to do with our investigation,” Nick said. “Even if it does, burglary isn’t a federal crime. Local police will retain jurisdiction on this.”

Cox took a few photos with his cell phone. “Don’t worry. We’ll maintain contact with the locals. They’re already aware that we served a search warrant here today. In fact, two of their officers were here with us this morning.”

She hadn’t known that, although when she thought about it there had been several different uniforms present during the warrant.

“Let’s check out the second floor.” Nick led the way as she and Cox followed him up the staircase and into the master bedroom.

“Oh no.” She covered her mouth with her hand. The sheets and duvet had been torn apart, the mattress upended, padding and springs spilling out from a deep gash in the center. The box spring had been destroyed, its fabric cover ripped off. Every drawer in the bureau and bedside tables had been pulled out, their contents scattered. Even her small suitcase had been dumped on the floor, her clothes thrown everywhere.

Nick turned slowly in a three-sixty, his eyes constantly moving as he took in the damage. “They were looking for something.”

Cox took more photos on his phone. “The only question is whether they found it.”

“Found what?” she asked. “You guys served a search warrant less than twelve hours ago. Didn’t you find everything there was to find?”

Nick turned on her. “We didn’t find your boyfriend’s laptop.”

“For the last time”—she clenched her hands—“he’s not my boyfriend. And don’t you think this is too big a coincidence? A search warrant and a break-in all in the same day?”

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “I do.”

Cox put his cell phone to his ear and headed for the door, turning at the last second. “I have to make some calls.”

Nick slipped a small pad from his breast pocket. “What time did you get here?”

“Around five o’clock.”

He scribbled on the pad. “Was the front door locked?”

“Yes, but I noticed those scratch marks on the door and a cigarette butt on the front stoop that wasn’t here when I left this morning.”

“You’ll have to point out the butt to the evidence collection team. We might be able to get a DNA hit.” He paused from making notes on the pad. “There’s an alarm system installed in the house. It wasn’t on when we served the warrant this morning. Did you activate it when you left today?”

“No,” she admitted, realizing if she’d been in the habit of setting it, she would have known the second Nick and the other officers had gotten in that morning.

He raised his brows. “Why not?”

“Well, it seems stupid now.” She let out a sarcastic laugh. “I was afraid I’d screw up the code and the police would come running and arrest me for breaking in to a house that’s not mine.”

Again, Nick’s eyes twinkled with humor. The corners of his mouth lifted, stopping just short of a full smile. Not for the first time, she wondered how an honest-to-God smile would transform the hardness of his features.

“Can you tell if anything’s missing?”

“Not really.” She went to her upended suitcase and kneeled beside it on the floor. “I’ve hardly been anywhere in the house except the kitchen, so aside from my own things, no.”

Andi turned to find him arching a brow. Disbelief screamed from every nuance of the subtle gesture.

She got to her feet and came to stand in front of him, parking her fists on her hips. “What is your problem? I’ve told you more than once that Joe and I haven’t had any real relationship for years. We’re friends. Just friends. And I am not part of his criminal network.”

For several seconds, he stared down at her silently, as if gauging her truthfulness. “So you keep telling me.”

The air conditioning took that moment to kick on, blowing a whiff of his scent her way, and it was distracting as hell.

Needing space, she took a step back. “You don’t believe a word I’ve said to you. You’re so suspicious and untrusting you lack the ability to perceive truth when it smacks you in the face. You see criminals everywhere, don’t you?”

“It’s my job.” He took a step closer, so that he once again loomed over her, but at this point she was getting used to that tactic and stood her ground, craning her neck to meet his steely gaze. “In fact,” he continued in a smooth, deep voice, “a lot of taxpayer money is spent training me to do just that.”

“Do they also train you to identify that rare”—she hooked her fingers into quotation marks—“honest taxpayer?”

“I’m trained to gather the facts, ma’am,” he added, and she understood he’d used that word to intentionally be annoying, since she’d specifically told him to quit using it on her. “Contrary to what you obviously think, I don’t pass judgment. A judge or a jury decide if the facts warrant a conviction.”

“You really don’t care if someone is innocent or guilty.” She pointed a finger at his chest without touching him. “You’re a just-the-facts-ma’am kind of guy?”

His eyes flashed with subdued anger, and she found it gratifying to have finally penetrated his emotional armor. “I don’t deal bullshit, and I don’t tolerate it, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Then what do I have to do to prove I’m innocent and not bullshitting you?”

“Cooperate. Fully.”

“I have been cooperating. Fully,” she said, throwing his word back at him.

“Just how far are you willing to go to prove your cooperation?”

She crossed her arms. “As far as it takes.”

He shocked her with a full-fledged smile, and she had the answer to her question. When Sgt. Nicholas Houston smiled, he was devastatingly handsome.

Big whoop. So he’s good looking.

Oh hell. There was no sense deluding herself anymore. I’m attracted to him. Physically, anyway.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said calmly, although there was an undecipherable look in his eyes that gave her the disquieting feeling she’d been expertly herded into a trap.

“What about the photo?” He tipped his head to Joe’s high-top bureau. More specifically, to the exact location where the framed photo of her and Joe had been—and wasn’t now. “The one of you and your not-boyfriend. Did you move it?”

Ignoring his jibe, she walked to the bureau. Until he’d pointed it out, she hadn’t realized the photo was no longer there. “I didn’t touch it.” Turning, she found him standing directly behind her. She hadn’t heard him move and wondered how such a big man could get around so soundlessly. The skin over the bridge of his nose was creased, leaving her puzzled about the implications of the missing photo. “Why would they take it?”

“I don’t know.” He tucked the small pad back into his breast pocket. “We don’t even know who ‘they’ is. If we assume whoever broke in is connected to this investigation, then chances are they already know what Joe looks like.” His frown deepened. “But they may not have known what you look like.”

“I have nothing to do with whatever Joe’s involved in, so why would they want a picture of me? I don’t have his laptop, and I can’t give them any useful information. I can’t even give you anything useful.”

“We’ll figure this out.” His eyes took on a look of determination. “I promise.”

Despite their constant sparring, something about the sincerity in his eyes made her believe him.

“Do you have another place to stay tonight?” he asked.

“Yes.” She walked back to where her suitcase lay on the floor. “The plumbing work on my house is done, so I can move back in. The only reason I came here was to collect my things.” She knelt and reached out to right the suitcase and start dumping her clothes back into it when strong fingers clamped gently over her hand.

Nick knelt beside her, so close that their thighs touched, and she could feel the muscular strength of his. “Don’t touch anything. The evidence team has to photograph everything and dust for prints. They’ll need a set of your fingerprints to compare to any others left behind.”

Warmth emanating from his large body washed over her in gentle waves, and every place his long, strong fingers touched hers tingled with awareness. Of what, she didn’t know.

Their gazes locked, and his hand still covered hers, curling her fingers beneath his own. As she stared into his eyes, her heart slammed against her ribs. While she understood Nick’s touch was purely for professional reasons—to preserve evidence—it was disconcerting.

Footsteps sounded outside the bedroom, and she yanked her hand from beneath his as they both rose to their feet. Cox and two uniformed officers entered the room.

“You good, Nick?” Cox stood in the open doorway, a quizzical expression on his face that made her realize he must have misinterpreted what he’d seen as her and Nick holding hands.

As. If.

“We are, but there’s something you should know.” He succinctly explained to Cox and the uniforms about the missing framed photograph.

Cox nodded. “All the more reason to move forward with things as planned.”

“What things?” She crossed her arms as a now-familiar sense of foreboding spread through her.

One of the local officers interrupted. “Ma’am, I’d like to ask you some questions.”

Rolling her eyes, she groaned. “What is this, a cop thing? My name is Andi. Andi Hardt, not ma’am.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” The cop winced. “Ms. Hardt.”

Beside her, Nick chuckled.

It was nearly midnight when Andi fell into bed. Her entire body was exhausted, yet her mind couldn’t stop buzzing. Just when she’d thought the day couldn’t get any worse, it had, culminating with getting fingerprinted for elimination purposes. She’d completely missed the evening shift at the DPC, but Tuesdays were slow, and Tess had closed up early. She really was counting on that musician to beef up business. If that didn’t bring in more customers, her dream café might die a horrible death.

Nails clicked on the bedroom’s hardwood floors as Stray walked in. The dog nuzzled her arm before lying down beside the bed with a contented huff. Normally, Stray overnighted in the garage, happy to sleep in the comfy doghouse Andi had purchased for the occasional wayward dog. Tonight, she’d needed canine companionship.

Cox had followed her home, insisting on checking out every room in her house before allowing her to enter. He’d explained that until they deduced why the photo of her and Joe had been taken by the burglars, she should exercise additional caution.

Flipping onto her belly, she snuggled against the fluffy down pillow and reached out to run her fingers over Stray’s soft coat. In response, the dog touched her wet nose to Andi’s hand, as if giving her a good night kiss.

In the darkness, she smiled, but it was fleeting. The only reason she’d worked in the financial world was because she’d seen her parents struggling for money and wanted to help them. They’d been scientists, living from grant to grant, and when one grant after the next dried up, things were rough. But they’d loved doing what they did, so when she quit her job in New York, she decided to emulate them and follow her dream.

At least her parents had each other. She, on the other hand, was destined to wind up alone. Dogs were the most wonderful creatures on the planet, but they could never be a substitute for a family of her own.

Time to face facts.

Life had thrown her a cruel curve ball. For her, a family wasn’t in the cards.

With quick, angry motions she swiped at her tears, wishing she could wipe away her pain and worries that easily.

She’d been relieved that it had been Cox inside her home, rather than Nick. Around him, she felt compelled to stay extra sharp, and it was exhausting. Sparring with him left her body and mind totally energized, but afterward, it was as if all remaining life had been sucked from her.

Before she nodded off, his melodic voice sounded in her head as surely as if he were standing in her bedroom. Just how far are you willing to go to prove your cooperation?

Her eyelids closed, and she began falling into an uneasy sleep, unable to shake the worry that she really was being herded into a trap. What trap remained to be seen.