He rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath, grabbing her hand when she reached for the doorknob. “Don’t touch that. Not until we get a patrol down here and report it.”
“Forget that. I’m not waiting in the hall for stupid cops to show up and ask a bunch of questions I can’t answer, all of which will lead nowhere.” She jerked her hand free, and he let her.
“Stupid cops?”
The insult wasn’t directed at him, but it may as well have been. That’s why she’d done it. “Yes. Now, unless you’re planning to forcibly prevent me from entering my apartment, I’m going inside to close my window.”
No answer. No movement to detain her, either.
Everything had gone to hell in the course of minutes. Because of an open window, an incredible man, and her endless mistakes.
Shoulders squared and spine steeled, she withdrew her keys from her purse. The lock was dead ahead, mere inches away, yet she couldn’t get the damn key in the slot. Not with her hands shaking and the weight of Curtis’ stare on her back. Not with the thick, red letters practically jumping off the door, mocking her.
Tomorrow’s my LUCKY day. Wear that black dress for ME, whore.
Curtis was correct about the message being a threat. Just not the kind he thought. Somehow, those guys had discovered where she worked and where she lived. They weren’t out to physically attack her in a dark corner or back alley. They didn’t want to rape her—they wanted to pay to fuck her. Tomorrow. At Lucky’s.
Vomit lurched up her throat.
“Shit,” she whispered when the keys slid from her fingers. They clattered against the door and hit the crappy-carpeted floor, the simple sounds echoing in her spinning head. Stupidly, she hoped Curtis would swoop in and collect the fallen keys. That he’d wrap his arms around her and take charge. Make everything better.
He didn’t.
It was for the best, long-term. But it still sucked mightily in the present.
Curtis
“Looking good, Lawler,” Constable Williams said as he joined Curtis on the main floor of Sara’s building. “Never seen you in anything other than uniforms and t-shirts. Who’s the special lady,” his gaze darted around the lobby, “and what the hell is she doing in this piece of crap?”
Curtis grunted. “Sara Robinson, nobody you’d know. And I wish I had the answer to your second question.”
Williams laughed, the relaxed laugh of a man settled in his life. Married, with a couple of teenage boys at home, Joe Williams took his job seriously enough to do it well, but didn’t let the shitty parts drag him down. Good thing, because when they went to the fourth floor and knocked on Sara’s door, Curtis expected plenty of shit to fly.
Williams faced him as the elevator doors boxed them inside the grubby lift. “Fill me in. The faster I’m in and out, the sooner you can get back to your evening.”
Yeah, that wouldn’t be happening. Not after the bullshit Sara had pulled ten minutes ago.
“On our way out for dinner earlier, a group of young men loitering out front implied that my date is a prostitute.”
His fellow officer whistled. “Ballsy.”
“No shit. I had a chat with them, set them straight. Advised them to steer clear of Sara.”
“I’ll just bet you did. One of those times when you wished you were free to slug somebody, eh?”
“Oh yeah.” The elevator chimed for the fourth floor and they stepped into the hallway. Curtis nodded to the left, indicating the way. “We stopped here after the restaurant so Sara could close a window, and found that somebody had paid her a visit while we were out. Guess the neighborhood goons didn’t appreciate my warning.”
They arrived at Sara’s door. Curtis waited, watching the older officer assess the situation.
Tomorrow’s my LUCKY day. Wear that black dress for ME, whore.
The hairs on Curtis’ neck stood as he read the spray-painted message again. Nothing explicit or extreme, but not random either. The words had meaning. Sara had acted as if this were no big deal. Just commonplace graffiti. But Curtis had seen the initial horror cross her features. He’d watched her hands shake so hard she couldn’t open her damn door.
“I’d call this a threat against your lady friend,” Williams said.
“Agreed.”
“And you assume the men you spoke to earlier are responsible.”
“That would make the most sense.”
Williams nodded. “Does your friend know these guys?”
“No.” For the sake of the investigation, Curtis kept his answer definitive. No point in sharing his doubts. That was a personal matter.
“Any idea if they live in the building, or how they might know which unit she lives in?”
Curtis crossed his arms over his chest. “The building is wide open. No security of any kind as far as I’ve seen. You’ll have to ask Sara those questions. I tried, but she was upset at the time.” Upset—a polite description of having flipped the fuck out and pushed him as far away as possible. He didn’t know why, but he sure as hell intended to find out.
“Understandable. Let’s see how she’s doing now.” Williams raised his hand and rapped on the door. “This is Constable Williams, Ms. Robinson. I have a couple quick questions for you.”
Unsurprisingly, the knock went unanswered. So did a second round, and a much more assertive third round.
Williams turned to him. “How do you want to handle this?”
“The hard way, apparently.” Curtis stepped forward and laid a fist to the door. “Sara. Open up. Just answer a couple questions for my friend Joe out here.” He waited. Still nothing. “Babe, I’m not leaving unless you do this. I’ve got vacation days banked, and I’m prepared to cash them all in. I’ll stand guard outside this goddamn door as long as it takes, then follow you wherever you go when you do come out. Consider that my very personal promise to you.”
Metal scraped and clunked. Sara yanked the door open, blocking the entrance and staring up at him with fury-filled eyes. Fucking beautiful. And hot, even though he doubted either of those things were her intention at the moment.
“Seriously. Dick much, lawman?”
Behind him, Williams coughed to cover a chuckle.
Curtis braced his hands on either side of the doorframe, mirroring her stance. “As much as necessary.”
“Should I give you two a few minutes?” The words had no sooner left Williams’ mouth than both Curtis and Sara answered.
Simultaneously. “No.”
“Good to see we agree on something,” Curtis said.
She glanced over his shoulder at the uniformed officer, her pretty face in full-blown scowl mode when her eyes met his again. “Why are you doing this?” The question came out as a hissed whisper.
“To make your life miserable.”
“Congratulations, it’s working.”
He tamped down the urge to grab her and yank her hard and tight to his body. To quiet her saucy mouth by inserting his tongue between her full, ruby lips. She’d respond to that, he knew she would. By fighting him off—briefly—before succumbing and becoming a willing participant. They hadn’t known each other long, but they had that dance perfected.