Her stomach growled. Okay maybe she’d have to think long enough to figure out sustenance. Ethan hadn’t left work yet either. Was he done questioning Bryce Kelso? Had he found anything useful? The idea of the asshole doing anything to cause more trouble for Delaney had Miranda even more furious than the vandalism itself. She’d been working so hard to get her life back on track. Going after her felt like a cheap shot. The move of a bully. Miranda despised bullies.
Ethan would sort it out. She knew it was wearing on him that he hadn’t been able to pin down the vandal. He’d taken a vow to protect this town, and he felt like he was falling down on the job. He had to be at least as tired as she was. They’d both feel better after a good night’s sleep. Maybe he could pick up some kind of takeout on the way home.
It was another of those domestic thoughts that made her stupidly happy. She was beyond relieved that they’d worked out their differences and he’d be coming home. It didn’t feel like he was just staying with her. Hadn’t since the day he moved in. Should she bring up the idea of formalizing that arrangement? Or was it too soon? That probably wasn’t a discussion to be had while they were both sleep deprived.
But he loved her.
She hugged the knowledge close, knowing she wore a sappy grin. The police chief and the doctor. Who’d have thought they’d fall so hard and fast? Who’d have imagined he’d feel the sting of her temper and still think she was worth fighting for?
Pulling into the garage, she exhaled a sigh of relief. Home. Grabbing her purse, she waved to Darius, who gave a friendly beep of acknowledgment as he pulled away from the curb, and hit the button for the garage door, watching it lower behind her. On her way into the house, she flipped on lights, her mind already turning to a glass of wine and a bath. Yeah, one of those nice, hot soaks that would leave her fingers and toes pruny as she dozed. Her legs were long enough that she wouldn’t slip below the water if she fell asleep. With that goal in mind, Miranda dumped her keys and purse on the little desk in the kitchen and opened a bottle of Cabernet. Maybe she could talk Ethan into pizza. Even the lousy delivery stuff would be good after a day like today. Or, even better, maybe she could talk him into joining her in the tub for a soak himself—and whatever consequences that might entail—before pizza. Yeah, that sounded like the ultimate way to relax.
Shoving the phone into her back pocket, she headed up the stairs, sipping at her wine and stripping out of the cardigan she’d worn under her lab coat. She dropped the sweater into a chair and toed off her shoes, already dreaming of fragrant bubbles. The phone began to ring. The flash of Ethan’s name across the screen and had her smiling.
“Hey Cowboy, I was just—”
“Where are you?” The urgency in his tone had her going stock still, one hand stretched toward the faucet.
“I just got home. What’s wrong?”
“Stay put and make sure the doors are locked.”
Had she locked the garage door on her way inside? Miranda couldn’t remember. Doing an about-face, she went to check. “I’m going to check the door. What’s going on?”
He blew out a breath. “I found out who trashed your clinic.”
“Who?”
“Johnny.”
The shock almost had her stopping again. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was. Harley coerced him into harassing you by threatening his mother.”
“That bastard.” She checked the front door. “Front door is locked with the deadbolt. Why the hell is Harley harassing me?” She hurried into the kitchen.
“Short version: He’s pissed we convinced Rene to leave him and is targeting you to get back at me.”
The door into the garage wasn’t locked. She twisted the knob and quickly threw the deadbolt before making a beeline toward the den. “Garage door is locked. What does he hope to gain from all of this?”
“I don’t know. But even if he’s been acting through Johnny as proxy, he’s escalated. I don’t want you alone until I can bring him in.”
In the den, she started to reach for the light and hesitated, the hair on her arms standing up. Something was wrong. Miranda scanned the room. In the ambient light spilling out of the kitchen, she could just make out the glitter of shattered glass on the carpet. One of the panes had been broken out of the French door.
Her hand tightened around the phone. “Ethan, someone’s—”
A hand clamped over her mouth and yanked her off balance, up against a solid male body. The glass dropped out of her hand. Miranda felt the splash of wine on her leg as she automatically reached for the hand. She struck out at her assailant with the phone. It connected with his head, causing the fingers to loosen just enough for her to get out a short, sharp scream.
“Ow! Stupid bitch.”
Harley.
Snaking another arm around her throat, he cranked down. The phone fell from her fingers as her oxygen was cut off. Her hands scrabbled at his arm, unable to slacken his grip.
Think. Think!
She struggled to remember anything from the self-defense course she’d taken years ago, when she’d moved to Chicago. But there was no thought, only panic. She began to hit, kick, and claw, aiming for whatever she could reach. But her blows just bounced off him, causing nothing more than grunts, even as pain radiated up the elbows she tried to jab into his ribs.
Harley hauled her backward, jerking her off her feet. She kicked out, hoping to meet the wall for some kind of leverage. As they struggled, her foot connected with something solid. It hit the floor and shattered. On a snarl, Harley squeezed harder, applying pressure to her carotid.
Miranda felt consciousness begin to flicker
Ethan. Ethan was on the phone. He’d come for her.
But as her limbs stopped cooperating, her brain starved for blood and air, she wondered if he’d make it in time.
“Ethan, someone’s—”
At the abrupt cutoff of her words, Ethan’s stomach dropped. “Miranda? Miranda!”
Something thumped and Miranda screamed. The sound sent ice cascading through Ethan’s veins, already propelling him into motion, as a muffled male voice growled, “Stupid bitch!”
His heart all but stopped. Harley was at the house. He shouted orders on the way to the door. “All units to Miranda’s. He’s got her. The son of a bitch has got her.”
Bursting out of the station, he pelted toward his police cruiser, hearing sounds of a struggle over the line. “Hang on, baby. Keep fighting. I’m coming. I’m coming.”
He threw himself into the driver’s seat, peeling out of the lot, sirens blaring. Drawing on every shred of defensive driving he’d ever learned, he flew through town, skidding around corners, flying around cars, coaxing every ounce of speed from the engine.
Something shattered. Then the only thing Ethan could hear was the roaring in his ears. Fear gripped him by the throat. Had the line gone silent?
Too far. He was too goddamned far away.
Why hadn’t he insisted she work on some self defense? Why hadn’t he installed that alarm system? Why hadn’t he posted a full-time guard on her? He’d known in his gut that this whole situation was going south. That it was more than just vandalism.
Seconds stretched out like hours as he closed the distance, not knowing what he’d find. Backup was en route, but he didn’t wait, whipping into the driveway on screaming tires. There was no sign of another car or of Harley’s beat-to-shit truck. Only a handful of lights were on inside.