Numbers Never Lie (Crimson Romance) (12 page)

A scream echoed down the hallway. She was yelling at the guy now. Trevor. His name was Trevor. The guy had seen him through the window.
Shit! He knows I’m here!
No time to wait. Gotta get the hell out of here.

He slid the cabinet out again. Good, they were arguing back in the back. Go.
Now.
As he slipped out from behind the cabinet, it swayed, then tilted. He didn’t stop to see what happened next. He ran.

He jumped through the opening Trevor had made for him in the door, and pounded toward the stairs as fast as he could. A crash behind him said the cabinet had tipped over. He lunged down the stairs taking them in fours, barely touching down as he jumped from one to the next one. He prayed he didn’t lose his balance before he got to the bottom. He was way too old for this acrobatic shit. Thankfully, a couple of years as a volunteer firefighter had trained him to descend stairs like these.

As he touched bottom, he sprinted toward the street, wheeling right as he got to the corner and slipping into the closest backstreet he came upon. He’d have to circle back for his car, but fortunately he’d parked it on the next block, so getting out should be no problem.

He reached into his jacket and felt the papers there. Good. Every one of them still in his possession. He smiled as he drove to the nearest all night printing shop and deposited them in their shredder bin before calling in a report.

Chapter Nine

Outside Sophie’s building, there was little activity. A few cars passing, but not slowing down. As Trev strode toward the car, the lights of the passing traffic cast a highlight across a man standing in the shadows on the other side of the street. He looked a little startled, but his face wasn’t familiar. Trev reached for the door of his car to get in, but then he followed the man’s gaze upward and froze. The man was watching Sophie’s window.
There was a man in her apartment!
Specifically, in the guest bedroom — and he was moving around as if he was trying to hide.

Trev flashed back to the shadows on the corner but the man that was watching was gone. Trev raced into the apartment building and bounded up the stairs. He had turned the mic off and left it in the car earlier. That was stupid. He needed backup. He punched the speed dial on his phone. When the voice on the other side responded, he blasted out, “There’s someone in Sophie’s apartment!”

“What? Who?”

“I don’t know. He’s in her guest room!”

“Does she know?”

“No. I just left her. I saw him as I was getting into my car.”

“Get her out of there! Now! We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“I can probably get him.”

“Don’t be stupid. We don’t want her in the same shape as Bob. Just get her out.”

At the top of the stairs, he pulled the gun from his ankle holster and crouched outside her door. It was quiet inside. That was good. Maybe. Trev pounded on the door. He waited what seemed like forever for a response and pounded again. “Sophie! Answer the door!” No response.

“Fuck it,” Trev muttered as he threw his shoulder hard into the door, splintering the doorjamb. Ironically, it had been his support as he had clung passionately to her just minutes earlier. Now, he had just destroyed it. A scream came from the back of the apartment. He advanced quickly down the hallway, firearm raised. He looked into the room that he’d seen through the window but no one was there. The closet door stood open and some clothes lay on the floor in a heap — but no intruder. The hangers swayed back and forth. Whoever was there couldn’t be very far. He swung back toward the hall just as Sophie sprinted out, tying a towel around her and dripping.

She screamed again, then stopped when she recognized his face. “What are you doing, Trevor?” Her hair was matted in bedraggled strings of water that trailed down her shoulders and her face.

He stopped running, looked around her bedroom, his firearm still poised and ready. He smelled the steam and soap from her shower.

“What are you doing with a gun in my house?” she blurted.

He darted his eyes back to her face briefly. “There was someone in here. I saw him from the window.”

“What! You were looking in my window?”

“Yes. I mean no. I saw a shadow in your guest room. I thought you were in trouble.”

“So, you broke down my door and barged in here like the Mod Squad!” Her eyes were huge. She was screaming at him and backing away, squeezing the towel tighter around her.

“Shut the fuck up. There’s someone in here! I saw him. Come on.” Trevor grabbed her hand and started dragging her. She leaned back, resisting as best she could but he was too strong. Keeping the towel in place severely hampered her ability to resist. Still, she dug her feet into the carpet as she braced her full weight away from him.

“No! You’re flailing a gun around. Who the hell
are
you?” She was terrified. “I’m not going anywhere with you! I’m calling the police!”

“Yes! Yes, call the police. Here.” He tossed his phone to her. “I’ve already made the call but go ahead. Then get some clothes and come on!
Now!
I’m telling you there was someone in here. You’re not safe.”

Trev advanced into her bedroom, opening drawers and grabbing things. He pulled out a T-shirt, panties, and a pair of running pants. He stuffed them down the waist of his pants, looping them through his belt, for lack of a better way to carry them. Then he grabbed Sophie and hoisted her, towel and all, over his shoulder. With his gun still raised and one hand holding her on his back, he started moving back toward the door of the bedroom to leave.

A loud crash reverberated from the living room. Steps thundered out of the apartment and descended the stairs.

“Did you hear that?” Sophie blurted as Trev plopped her back on her feet and started down the hall. By the time he got to the railing of the stairs, all he could see was a dark shadow disappearing down the street. He ran back and yanked his phone from her hand. He hit the speed dial again and raised it to his mouth.

“He’s running down Gifford Street behind the apartments, heading west. Are you close yet?”

“Two blocks away.”

“See if you can catch him. I’ll get her out. I think I saw a tan colored jacket and blue jeans, but that’s all. He was under the overhang of the steps and I didn’t get a good visual.” He looked up to see Sophie staring at him, her mouth gaping. “Hey, Nate?” he added, “There might be two. I saw another guy watching on the street opposite her apartment before I came up. Brown hair, rough looking. About five-ten, muscular. Dark jacket and jeans. The baggy type.”

“Who are you?”
Sophie yelled.

“I’m the guy who just saved your fucking life.” He didn’t want to spend a lot of time explaining — not now and definitely not here. He narrowed his eyes, challenging her to argue further. “Now, let’s get you the hell out of here.”

“Okay. Okay. But don’t you
dare
pick me up like a sack of potatoes again.” She was trembling now as she held a hand out in front of her to keep him at bay. The shock of what just might have happened sunk in. “I can walk.”

“Good. Then, let’s go.” Trev grabbed her hand and glanced around the room. He yanked her with him, moving quickly out of the apartment and toward the stairs, his gun still ready in his other hand.

Three minutes later, they were back in his car speeding away from the apartment complex.

“So, you drop the f-bomb and a few other choice words a lot when you’re under crisis,” she stated flatly a short while later.

“Huh? What?” He looked at her, dumbfounded. Water continued to drip off her hair and down her neck. The towel was loose … too loose. His jaw tightened a little and the tension started to drain. Then he laughed. “Do I?”

“You don’t know what you said?”

“Yeah, I guess I do get a little out of control. One of my many flaws. A guy’s gotta say whatever gets the point across. Sometimes nothing else fits.”

“I can think of a few words that might work.”

“Don’t bother trying to save me, Henry. That’s a lost cause. My mouth has been washed out with soap so many times, I should bleed bubbles.”

“Remind me never to make you mad.” Sophie looked out the window, her hand on the door latch as if ready to escape.

“You already have,” he admitted. Mad that she nearly became a statistic.

“Really?” she looked at him, bewildered. “Why?”

“Jesus, Henry.” He turned his eyes to hers as he used the familiar pet name he’d given her. He was shaking a little, which was totally out of character. “Get your hand off the damn door latch. If you try to get out while we’re moving this fast, you’ll end up in the hospital.” He paused. “You could have been killed just now, and you were arguing with me. When something like that happens, you don’t think, you don’t talk, and you definitely don’t argue about what to do. You just
move
. You just fucking move as fast as you can.”

“That’s not really a fair thing to say. I just met you a couple of weeks ago. How am I supposed to know you’re not the bad guy? You know — some psycho? You bash in my door, wave a gun at me, and carry me out like a kidnap victim.”

She had a point. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel and raced the car around the corner. Better just to stop talking. He turned three or four more times, circling back on his route before entering the parking garage and stopping the car. There wasn’t anywhere else to take her right now, not without notice.

“Stay here,” he ordered. She started to open her mouth in protest but his finger flew up in her face. “Don’t!” was all he added before he pushed his long legs out of the car and stood, then walked to the back. He opened the trunk, pulled something out, and then came around to her side. The door was yanked open and a jacket thrust open between them, shielding the door. “All right. You can get out now, but hold that damn towel closed, will you?”

“What?” She looked down at the towel gaping open all the way to her hip bone. “Oh!” Grabbing it around her, she stepped out of the car into the jacket. Trev promptly wrapped the jacket around her and zipped the front of it all the way to her chin.

“That ought to work until we can get you inside.” He put his arm around her and started walking her toward the door to the elevator. His eyes darted around the garage and watched the street. Her hands were caught inside the jacket, holding the towel together as he bustled her forward. A couple stepped out of the elevator and looked at them curiously but didn’t say a word. Trev nodded at them, then pushed her into the elevator. He punched the button for his floor, swiping his access key. He was glad for the security in this building. No one could enter without an access card plus the key to their own apartment. This would help to make sure that even if someone was able to follow them to the garage, they couldn’t easily follow them up.

“Where are we?” Sophie’s voice was tired.

“My place.” He gave her a warning look that told her to keep her mouth shut. He wasn’t in the mood for any snide comments.

“Oh. Okay,” she uttered softly. Then the tears started flowing. Trev plopped her down on the couch, locked the door, set the alarm, and disappeared to the kitchen. He couldn’t deal with tears.

Chapter Ten

“Here, drink this.” Trev handed Sophie a glass of Scotch and soda, without the soda. He was amped and she was terrified. If he tried the traditional “hold ’em and hug ’em” way of comforting, he was liable to rip that towel right off her. He was more than a little scared of Sophie Henderson. She was understandably unnerved by their escape, but he needed information right now, not tears.

Sophie took a huge drink and immediately gasped and coughed. “That’s not water!”

“Oh. Guess I should have told you that.” He grinned apologetically. “Scotch — it’ll calm your nerves.”

“My nerves are just fine.” Sparks flew from her eyes and it occurred to him that maybe he should have put it in a plastic glass. She was so upset right now she might throw it at him. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I was going to ask you the same question.” He watched her, unsmiling. “Do you have any idea who that guy was? An old boyfriend maybe?”

Sophie handed the glass back to him with most of the liquid still in it.

He pushed it back at her. “Drink,” he ordered.

“And if I don’t want it?”

He shook his head in exasperation. “Just do it, okay? I’m not very good with the tears and stuff — it’ll help with the shock, so I’d appreciate it if you’d just humor me.” He leaned against the wall next to the front door, his hands behind his back, anchored heavily by his body. He felt the clothes he’d tucked in his belt loop for lack of a better place to put them and yanked them out.

He needed for her to be covered up so he could concentrate on asking questions. “You want to go put these on?”

He tossed them on the couch from across the room, not budging toward her. Sophie had downed the drink in three solid swallows. She twisted her face up as it went down her throat, likely burning all the way.
Great,
he thought,
now she’s either going to puke or pass out before I can talk to her. That was probably a dumb idea. Should have poured a smaller glass.

She looked at the three small pieces of clothes and then at Trev. “Of everything in my room, this is all you could get?”

“What’s wrong with it? Underwear, shirt, and pants. What else do you need?” His voice gave away his frustration.

Sophie’s faced softened a little and he thought he noticed a look of amusement pass over her. She shrugged. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you? Where do I change?” She stood up, her long legs stretching beautifully from underneath his jacket. The warmth of the Scotch was settling in apparently because she teetered slightly.

Trev motioned to a door off the kitchen. “Bathroom. Don’t plan on going anywhere else because I’ll be standing right here when you come out.”

“Got it, boss, but I’ll need you to release me from this straight jacket.” She smirked. He moved toward her, unzipped the jacket, and watched as she stepped into the bathroom. She exited a few minutes later, standing with one arm across her chest, clutching her upper arm. She had smoothed her hair back and twisted it together somehow. Her breasts were jammed into the T-shirt, bra-less, leaving nothing at all to imagine. Several inches of belly showed between the shirt and the pants that set low on her hips. Her waist curved perfectly between the two pieces of cloth and the darkness of her breasts protruded perkily from the tightly stretched cloth even though she tried to cover them.