“How bad was it?” Eden pressed her cell to her cheek, legs crossed, the toe of her stiletto tapping the filthy floor of the cab.
Outside the windows, Chicago’s denizens bustled along the brightly lit storefronts, completely unaware she’d just delivered a metaphorical cold, hard slap to one of the most decent men she’d ever met.
God, she was a horrible person. That stunt she’d pulled was downright mean. If she had to rate herself, she’d float to the surface somewhere around the level of pond scum.
“He was really pissed.” Tanner’s sigh floated through the line. “And then, honestly? He sorta looked like someone had sucker punched him in the stomach.”
Eden’s eyes slipped closed. Okay, she wouldn’t float like pond scum. She was more like the rank layer of rotting sediment that squished between a person’s toes.
She shook her head. This wasn’t who she was, dammit. Ensuring the scales of decency stayed balanced was more than just a work ethic, it was the basis of her entire existence. For her to trick Kelly after he’d spent the entire night standing watch outside that apartment went against everything she believed in, but the stubborn man had simply given her no choice. Showing up on Malcolm’s doorstep with Chicago’s lead homicide detective in tow was liable give her mentor a heart attack.
Expelling a harsh breath, she shifted and re-crossed her legs. “I’m pulling the plug on the downtown office.”
Tanner gasped. “Eden, no. You can’t do that.”
The past twenty-four hours, she’d made one epic mistake after the next, starting with her plan to meet Detective Riordan and going right up until the moment she’d hopped into this cab. But the mistakes ended here. Now.
“As soon as you can, call Mocha and have him meet you at the space.” Eden glanced through the windshield as the driver veered onto I-94 and merged with oncoming traffic.
She’d deliberated her decision into the wee hours of the morning but, bottom line was, none of them were safe. Not after last night’s attempt on her life, and whoever had attacked her, she wasn’t about to give him the same opportunity with Tanner and Mocha.
“I want everything bagged and shipped to the satellite storage space near O’Hare. I’m heading to Malcolm’s and I’ll call you from there. Back up the files to portable drives and then install the virus on the mainframe.” If anyone tried hacking into their system, they’d have a big, fat headache on their hands.
“Oh, my God. Eden, you’re scaring me. What happened? Are you okay?”
The concern in Tanner’s voice brought on such a swell of memories, Eden’s chest ached, but she shoved the weakness aside before it could take hold. This was exactly what came with getting emotionally attached. Ultimately, caring for another person equaled pain. Her years in foster care had taught her that, and the rest had come years later through a hurt much closer to home.
But the resounding gong of that hollow victory didn’t matter now. Protecting Tanner and Mocha had to be her number one priority. If something tragic were to happen to either of them, she’d never forgive herself. “I want the two of you to lay low until you hear from me. You got that, Tanner? No going out on any jobs regardless of how important they might seem. Mocha has access to plenty of funds if you need money. We’ve put plans in place, so he’ll know what to do. I want you to disappear until I’ve had a chance to figure things out.”
Tanner sighed. “Eden, you know I’ll do anything you want. You know I will, but I still need to hear you say it. For myself. Is everything going to be okay?”
Of course, Tanner would need to hear those words. In the past, she’d had the rug ripped out from underneath her more than anyone ever should. She’d come to think of Eden and Mocha as her makeshift family. Eden knew that, but the poor girl had also been lied to enough, and Eden wasn’t about to placate Tanner with a bunch of reassurances that weren’t hers to give.
If she wanted to survive in this business, Tanner needed to learn when the time had come to cut their losses. “I hope so, sweetie, but I can’t guarantee anything until I speak with Malcolm. That’s why I need you and Mocha to make sure the office is cleaned out. It’s the best thing we can do right now. Take care of yourself and, I promise, as soon as I can, I’ll be in touch.”
Disconnecting the call, Eden lowered the phone to her lap. She tugged her oversized bag next to her thigh and peeled open the zipper, then hesitated over the way Kelly’s business card lay on top of a wad of rolled bills, a change of clothes and a few other necessities she’d stuffed inside.
She could always call him and apologize. She lifted his card from her purse. Then she could set the whole issue aside and forget Kelly Riordan ever existed.
A worn sigh worked through her chest, and she dropped her cell and the card back into her bag. The second he heard her voice, he’d no doubt be at her again, demanding she tell him where she was and what she was doing. But admitting those things would be a betrayal of Malcolm’s trust, and she couldn’t afford that right now despite everything Kelly had done for her.
She shoved the temptation to call him along with her purse across the seat. Howard Weaver had been right. Kelly Riordan was like a dog with a bone. The memory of that panty-melting kiss swam into focus, and she huffed. And a huge bone at that, based on the size of the hard ridge poking her bottom when he’d pulled her onto his lap.
God, she was an idiot. She never should’ve allowed their kiss to go that far. Should’ve put a stop to it the second their lips had touched and those warm flutters had exploded in her stomach.
From the very beginning, she’d known giving in to her baser instincts around Kelly would be like holding a lit match to a hissing blowtorch. Hell, the second he’d gone all sexy on her outside the kitchen, she’d known. There was no ignoring the hard, fast pulse between her legs that intimate moment had initiated…or the way he always seemed so hell bent on touching her mouth.
Propping her elbow near the window, she studied the palatial sprawl of Chicago’s affluent, north side suburbs. But the fact she still craved his heady taste wasn’t the worst of it. Nope, despite the way she longed to discover if his clever tongue would be every bit as talented against her skin, there was much, much more.
The driver peeled onto the off ramp and rolled to a stop at the light. The sad truth was, curiosity had overruled her common sense where the handsome detective was concerned. She checked through the back windshield for any sign of a tail as the light changed to green and the driver turned right.
No one could argue the man was smart, least of all her. The minute she’d woke him up dressed as Scarlet, it was clear as day Kelly’s investigative skills had kicked into overdrive. He’d not only answered the question of why she had those disguises in her closet, he’d immediately realized she planned to head out the door.
But that was exactly the problem.
Even after that peek inside her life, his attraction to her hadn’t wilted. Yeah, the words wilted and Kelly Riordan didn’t even belong in the same universe. He hadn’t pulled back from her or hot-footed in the other direction once he’d learned the truth. If anything, he’d only seemed more intrigued by her. Like he’d enjoyed every minute of solving the Eden Smith mystery, and that delicate thread of understanding had given her hope. A hope that scared the shit out of her even as it renewed her faith that, somewhere out there, good people still existed. And not only had she discovered one, he found her worthy of his attention.
The gabled roof of Malcolm’s tuck-pointed home swung into view as the driver swung onto his street. The irony of that realization had been so thick, she’d run and she’d kept on running, even when Kelly had chased her.
It was what she excelled at, after all. Hiding, becoming someone else. Shit, she’d been doing it so long, she wasn’t even sure how much of her real self remained.
The brakes squeaked as the driver slid to the curb, and she paid the fare and climbed from the cab. Relief washed over her as she stood at the edge of Malcolm’s yard, the taxi roaring away behind her. Of all the places she’d lived, she’d been here the longest, learned the most. Maybe that’s why, over ten years later, this house still seemed like home.
God knew it wasn’t because the place gave her the warm and fuzzies.
She glanced left then right as she started down the long sidewalk to the front door. No strange activity snared her attention. The surrounding yards and street were quiet, the families safe inside the watchful eyes of their alarm-protected homes. She plucked the blue contacts from her eyes and flicked them to the lawn, climbed the front stoop and rang the doorbell.
The drapes were drawn over every window, but that was no big surprise. Malcolm had always been an extremely private person, and even though the early morning drizzle had stopped, the day was overcast. It wasn’t as if he were missing out on the last of the fall sun.
She fiddled with the strap of her bag as she waited for someone to answer. During her training, Malcolm had employed a small staff at this residence. So, where were they now? She hitched her purse higher onto her shoulder and crossed her arms. Then again, they’d needed the extra help given the revolving door of young adults who had continuously come and gone through the halls. A regular, old Professor Xavier’s home for wayward misfits, this place had been back then.
Maybe Malcolm had let the staff go. After all, it was only him now, and possibly the occasional visitor who, like her, needed his assistance.
She sighed and stepped out from under the recessed front stoop to search the second floor windows. No lights, no movement. Okay, what the hell was going on? She rang the doorbell a second time and waited.
The first signs of unease tingled in her fingertips as the house remained quiet, and she searched the grounds to either side before rapping a hard knuckle against the door.
The handle slid ajar, and her pulse leapt the same distance her gaze fell to the faulty lock. Jimmied, though the scratches on the lock plate were light enough they could’ve easily been mistaken as those made by a key.
Dammit. Adrenaline surged, and her heart sped forward like she’d just sprinted a hard mile uphill. Someone had broken in, but whether or not they were still here, she had no clue. If so, she wasn’t about to let Malcolm face them alone. Not at his age, and not when a good chance existed they were here because of her.
She pushed the door open and scanned the front hall. Nothing. No creepy shadows, no sound. The only activity a few dust motes floating in the air.
The security panel hung just beyond the edge of the door—the power off, the screen dead.
Disabled.
Her jaw tightened, and she silently stepped over the threshold. Okay, asshole. Gently lowering her purse to the floor, she shifted her attention between the library on her right, the stairwell in front, and then over to the living room, round and around as she quietly swung the door closed. This wasn’t some dark alley where she’d been caught off guard by an attack from behind. In fact, the tables had turned. Cutting the power may have worked out fine to help whoever was here break in undetected, but it also gave her the advantage. She wasn’t a seventy-plus-year-old man enjoying the twilight of his retirement, and if she could sneak up on the intruder without making any noise, maybe she could put an end to this bullshit once and for all.
Hefting a solid brass candlestick from the entryway table, she side-stepped down the corridor, shoulders tight, teeth clenched, every nerve prickling like a million tiny spiders crawled over her skin.
Room by room, she searched the first floor, from Malcolm’s office and private bathroom back to the kitchen, and yet nothing filled her ears but the persistent drone of an empty house, her hammering pulse and labored breathing.
The bottom riser creaked as she placed her foot on the first step. She paused, waiting a beat, listening into the silence before continuing up the stairs. In most of the second floor rooms, the furnishings had been covered with white sheets, the mattresses bare and the closets empty. Exactly as she’d expected, Malcolm had closed off portions of the house that were no longer in use.
She neared her old room, the door adjacent to Malcolm’s bedroom, and stopped as the sickly sweet stench of wet copper permeated the air. Oh God, no. No, no, not that smell.
Lowering the candlestick, she hurried forward. She knew that odor. Had been around it enough in the past, it had forever been ingrained on her senses.
Tossing open the door to her old bedroom, she choked and then shoved the back of her hand under her nose. The heavy bank of musty blood washing past her face made her eyes water, and everywhere…everywhere she saw red.
* * * *
Kelly raced down the sidewalk, his cell phone plastered to his ear. The heavy thud of his boots pounded the concrete. His jacket slid back on his shoulders; his silver St. Michael’s medallion bounced against his chest.
Goddamn it, the last name Smith was no coincidence. With the recent trouble trailing Eden like her personal thundercloud, he’d bet his last thin dime Malcolm Smith and Eden’s adoptive father were one and the same. “What’s the guy’s last known address?”
That’s where Eden had gone. Kelly knew it. Felt it with the same certainty as recognizing his own name.
His stomach twisted as he rounded the corner and sprinted for his car. God only knew what she might find once she got there. Based on the way Ruby had been tortured, the blunt force trauma surrounding around each stab wound covering her body…
For Christ’s sake, the killer could still be inside the house! “The address, Archer! What is it?”
“Unless you’re planning to hop the next plane to Heathrow, I can’t help you,” Archer ground out his answer. “Last known address for Malcolm Smith is in London, but that’s beside the point. The captain is requesting you bring in your witness, Kelly. She wants us ahead of this thing before the press starts screaming we’ve got a serial killer on our hands.”
He wrenched open the car door and slid onto the seat, docked his cell on the dash and hit the speaker. Shit, that could only mean one thing. The details of Malcolm Smith’s murder were an exact match to the way Ruby had been found.
Jamming his key into the ignition, he glanced over his shoulder for oncoming traffic and squealed away from the curb. “What are the stats?”
Archer sighed so loud, the speaker on Kelly’s phone buzzed. “Man, you know DeFranco. He refuses to give up anything until he’s had a chance to examine the body. All I can tell you is the vic washed up two miles of north of Ruby’s location. He’d been stabbed and tossed in the drink. Only personal affects were his wallet and a few bills, and a single business card stuffed in his left front breast pocket.”
Kelly white-knuckled the wheel with the same force he clenched his jaw. “Let me guess. Dirty Deeds.”
“There’s no arguing with right.”
Fuck. He pounded his fist against the wheel, checked his side mirror and swerved into the left-hand lane. D’Avella was gonna have his ass in a sling once she learned Eden was missing. “I don’t have my witness. Not anymore. She slipped past me this morning.”
The resulting dead air from that bomb was so long, for a second, Kelly thought maybe the call had dropped.
“Shit,” Archer whispered. “I’m not telling her. If you think that’s gonna happen, you can think again.”
The back tires shimmied over the asphalt as Kelly took a hard left. Not that he blamed Archer for dodging that bullet. Meredith D’Avella was one hell of a ball buster, but she was also fair and had earned her position within the predominately male environment of the Chicago PD.
Kelly owed her the truth, as much out of respect for the captain as his duty to Eden. He’d be as forthcoming as he could when D’Avella asked after the details, but he’d damn sure keep his mouth shut about that kiss. He wasn’t about to give anyone cause to remove him from the case. “I’ll be there in fifteen. In the meantime, get Molly working on locating Malcolm Smith’s address here in Chicago. If she gets a hit before I get back, call me right away.”
He quit the call and scrubbed a hand over his face. Christ, what a mess. This very second, Eden could be walking into a trap. Tapping his thumbs on the wheel, he eased up on the gas to coast through a red light. He should be there, dammit. He should’ve tried harder to stick with her. If she just would’ve trusted him, they wouldn’t be in this fix.
Whatever hurts she carried, whatever secrets she was trying to protect, they apparently ran deep. Deep enough, she was willing to risk her life to keep them quiet.
He blew a harsh breath. That kind of secrecy always came at a price. The path Eden had chosen and the way she lived her life were proof enough. Never trusting anyone, constantly changing her appearance and navigating the world like a ghost. How did anyone survive like that? Peeling right, he gunned the engine and left a trail of black smoke in his wake.
According to Eden, they started a business to even the score for those who’d suffered unsatisfied abuse. And in return, the price she’d paid was to lose the one person she’d depended on to help her when the going got rough.
He ground his molars as the acidity of that backhanded reward flooded his mouth. It was wrong. Regardless of her methods, those circumstances were damn wrong. He’d dedicated his entire life to making sure the bad guys got caught and their victims saw justice. If there was one thing he could smell a mile off, it was the stink of inequity and the bullshit of an unfair result.
His phone chirped, and he tapped the screen without checking the caller ID. Thank God, maybe Molly had come through with an address. “Riordan.”
“Oh my God, there’s so much blood.”
He stomped on the brakes and the screech of his tires almost drowned out the angry blare of the cab behind him. Eden. “Are you hurt?” In the silence that stretched, Kelly fought the icy grip of full-blown panic. “Eden, are you bleeding?”
“No, it’s not mine.” Her voice trembled. She panted like she was out of breath. “But, oh my God, Kelly, there’s so much blood.”
The terror seeping though the phone narrowed the world outside his windows into razor-sharp focus. “Where are you? Give me the address, right now.”
He punched the number and street into his GPS, flicked the lights on his back window cherry bar and laid on the horn, pulling a U-turn to speed off in the opposite direction. “I’m on my way, baby, but you gotta stay on the phone. Give me five minutes.” Dammit, that was too long. It was too fucking long! “Is there anyone else in the house?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” She spoke quietly, and the visual of her alone, surrounded by God only knew what kind of bloodbath, made him want to mow down every car in his way. “No one can lose that much blood and survive, Kelly. Oh my God, Malcolm. He’s really hurt. He’s really hurt, and I don’t know where he is.”
The soft click of a door closing echoed through the line as Kelly hit the expressway. He shoved the gas pedal to the floor. Cars and buildings streaked past his windows in a distorted blur.
She wasn’t getting it. He swerved left then right through the rush of mid-morning traffic. The shock of whatever she’d seen wasn’t allowing her to process what was right before her eyes. “Eden, I need you to listen to me. Stop looking for Malcolm. Lock yourself in a room, someplace small like a bathroom, and stay quiet. I’m almost there. Just hang on.”
The exit came up on his right, and he repeatedly rammed the heel of his hand against the horn. His tires screamed as he palmed the wheel right and gunned the engine out of the turn. A flick of the radio, and he grabbed the mic. “This is Detective Riordan. I got a 10-31 major crime in progress. I’m in contact with the victim. Back-up requested on site.”
“10-4, Riordan, what’s your 20?”
He read the address off the GPS and tossed the mic aside as the radio operator dispatched all available units to the scene. Another glance at the map, and he took the next left. “Eden, are you still there?”
“I’m here. In the bathroom under the front stairs.”
“Okay, I’m pulling up in twenty seconds, but stay where you are. I’ll come get you.” One more left, and he screeched to a halt in front of the house, scrambled from the car and withdrew his sidearm. Racing for the front stoop, he scanned the neighboring yards, tossed open the door and shoved his back against the wood.
The knob slammed the wall and the resounding bang echoed through the house. He waited until everything went silent, his arm at a ninety degree angle and gun barrel aimed at the ceiling. A lock snicked open, and he spun left.
Eden’s face appeared through the crack in the bathroom door, her beautiful, terrified eyes taking up nearly half her face, and the only thing he knew in that moment was he wanted to hold her. To reassure her everything was going to be okay. Protocol and personal boundaries be damned.
The door flew back on its hinges. She ran straight past the stairs and Kelly’s chest relaxed its suffocating grip as she leapt into his arms. Thank God, she wasn’t hurt.
“I got you.” He held on tight, one arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand buried in the soft curls of her hair. “It’s okay, I got you.”
“You came for me.” Her body trembled, her soggy voice warming the side of his neck. “Even after I acted like such a bitch, you still came.”
He frowned. “Of course, I came for you. Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“No, I…” A few silky strands caught in his beard as she shook her head. “No one’s ever come for me before,” she whispered.
Jesus. His eyes slipped closed as he slowly lowered her to her feet. A second later, anger raked the pit of his stomach, and he clamped his jaw shut before he accidently spouted something moronic.
What the hell kinda bullshit was that, anyway? A puff of air left his lips. He knew it. No one had ever watched out for her. Not in the way she needed, and most definitely not with some crazed lunatic hot on her trail.
“No more running.” He brought her away from him, holding her cheek so he could study her face. “Promise me, Eden. No more.”
“Agreed.” She covered her hand with his, her gaze steady and sure. “No more running.”
Sirens pealed in the distance, and Kelly tugged her back into his arms. He just wasn’t ready to let her go, wanted one more minute alone with her before the place was crawling with cops.
Dipping his chin so he could breathe in the addictive scent of her hair, he turned his lips to her ear. “Stick with me, baby, and I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”