Rising Heat (69 page)

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to wrap my head around everything,” I mumbled. I tore my gaze from his lips and stared at his chest, the way his T-shirt pulled tightly across his pecs. I found him irresistible. He literally oozed masculinity.

At the same time, I didn’t want to be one of those wilting females. A cliché. I didn’t need a man to protect me. What was wrong with me? I was responsible for myself! Hawk was doing his best to find who the stalker was, but he was right. He couldn’t be hovering over me every minute. I didn’t want him to. He wasn’t my bodyguard.

I straightened my shoulders and nodded. “Okay, I’m focused. Show me how to shoot the damn thing.”

I turned around and faced the targets. Over the next several minutes, he showed me how to hold the gun, how to load and unload, where the safety switch was and how to enable or disable it quickly. Damn right I was focused. I still wasn’t sure if I would ever have the courage to fire a gun at someone, but I had a feeling I could, and would if needed.

Hawk placed several clips containing bullets next to the Ruger on the counter. Then, out of nowhere, he produced his own weapon. It was a semi automatic like the Ruger, but much bigger. I glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Glock .45 caliber.”

The barrel of his automatic looked a bit over five inches long as compared to his mother’s Ruger, whose barrel was about three inches long. He saw me glancing between the two. “Both have good stopping power, Tracy. You don’t want more gun than you can handle. The Ruger will fit your hand well and it’s light weight.”

If he thought the Ruger was enough gun for me, then who was I to disagree? One minute, I didn’t want to fire a gun at all, and then I was eyeing his Glock with what, a twinge of jealousy? The fact of the matter was I wanted my stalker to go away. The thought of having to shoot at him wasn’t something I liked to contemplate, but I had to be realistic.

I’m not sure how long we were at the firing range. All I knew was that in a short amount of time, my ears were ringing despite the ear protectors, and my nostrils were filled with the scent of gunfire. My first attempts at hitting the target were a joke, but after I inserted the second clip into the Ruger, I was managing to at least hit the outside edges of the black figure on the target.

By the third clip, I was getting closer to center mass, not sharpshooter good, but as Hawk said, enough to put someone on the ground. After I fired the last round in the clip, he took the gun carefully from my hand and then turned me to face him.

“If you have to fire the gun at your stalker and you get him down, you empty the clip into him. Understood?”

I frowned. “Won’t I get into trouble, legally I mean? Isn’t that overkill?”

“Tracy, sometimes it takes more than one bullet to stop someone, especially if they’re determined. If you’re defending yourself, especially against a potential serial killer, you have the right to shoot. Don’t take any chances. You understand?”

I nodded. My hand felt a little numb after so much shooting, but I had to admit that I was glad we came. While I wasn’t super-fast, I knew how to load the Ruger quickly. I did feel a little more comfortable with its use. Its function? That was still under debate.

“Make sure the safety is on, and then tuck the gun into the waistband of your pants at your back.”

I wasn’t sure about that. The thought of sticking a gun down my waistband made me nervous. What if it went off by accident? I didn’t want to shoot my ass off. I glanced down at the gun, made sure the safety was engaged, and then gingerly tucked the barrel into the back of my pants. The metal felt hard, cold, and unforgiving. Maybe that was the point.

We made our way back out of the firing range, repeating our steps toward the exit. By the time we got back into his Jeep, I felt tired, but at the same time I was worried about staying at my house alone. Great.

In only two short days, my idyllic home, my life, and even my very existence was being threatened by some unknown entity.

“You okay?”

I sighed and nodded. “Just thinking how fast things can change.”

Neither of us said anything more while he drove me back to my house. I wondered if he would kiss me before he left. I nearly scolded myself. We hadn’t been out on a date for crying out loud. He was teaching me how to shoot someone.

Still, the thought gave me pause. Did I want him to kiss me? I didn’t think there were any more cameras in my house after he and I had gone through it, but what if the creep was out there in the woods with a telescopic lens or something? Even if I had my curtains drawn, he might be able to see shadows moving around. What next? Did I have to buy blackout curtains? Worry about turning lights on in my house after dark? What if he had some type of heat seeking technology?

Oh my God… I had to stop thinking this way. Still, I had a lot of ‘what ifs’ floating in my brain.

We pulled into the driveway. I grew increasingly anxious as we headed for the house. The gravel crunched softly under the tires. I didn’t want Hawk to leave. I wanted him to stay, but I knew that I couldn’t ask him to. That’s not what he was getting paid to do. Once again, I had to remind myself that he wasn’t my bodyguard.

He pulled in front of the porch and then turned off the car and then the lights. “I’ll walk you inside.”

Grateful for that, I nodded and climbed out of the car. I looked around, but didn’t see or hear anything unusual. He followed me as I dug my keys out of my pocket and stepped up onto the porch. In another moment, I had the key inserted into the lock and pushed open the door, unable to stop myself from looking down at the doormat.

Nothing.

I let out the breath I’d been holding and stepped inside. And paused. He bumped into me from behind.

Something wasn’t right.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure,” I said softly, tilting my head at a slight angle is if doing so would help me identify what it was that was niggling at the depths of my brain.

Behind me, I felt Hawk stiffen.

“That smell… do you smell it?”

Hawk inhaled deeply. I knew that some houses and apartments just smelled different. People that lived in them smelled different, their clothing absorbing the unique scents and aromas of deodorant, laundry soap, cooking, what have you. I had slowly become accustomed to the aromas this old house emitted. None of them unpleasant, just different from my apartment in Boston. And then, I realized what I had sensed.

I turned to Hawk. “I’m getting a slight scent of body odor… do you smell it?”

I almost smiled when Hawk quickly lifted one arm and sniffed his armpit. “It’s not me.”

Holding back my embarrassment, I did the same. “Not me either.”

“Wait here,” he said.

I stood by the door, reaching my hand toward the back of my pants, just in case. Hawk made the rounds through the bottom floor. The curtains were closed, but he still didn’t turn on any lights. I didn’t want to either.

He headed upstairs. I didn’t want to be alone down here, so I followed a few feet behind. Both of us stepped carefully, trying not to make too much noise. He instinctively kept closer to the wall, avoiding several of the squeaks on the staircase.

“It’s stronger up here,” I whispered.

My heart pounded. I felt sick to my stomach, almost like I was going to throw up. How had the creep gotten into my house again? I just had new locks and deadbolts put on every door. I couldn’t think about that now.

Goosebumps raised the flesh on my skin as we reached the top of the stairs. The scent of body odor wasn’t obnoxious and it wasn’t like it permeated my house. It was light, barely a hint, but it was just different. That’s what made me notice.

“This is my bedroom,” I said, pausing in front of the door at the top of the stairs. The other rooms are always closed up because I’m not using them.”

“Wait here.”

His gun in hand, Hawk entered my bedroom and took a defensive firing stance while at the same time flipping on the bedroom light switch. The muzzle of his gun followed his sharp gaze as he quickly checked the room and then the closet.

“Nobody here, but don’t—”

I stepped into the room just as he uttered the last words ‘come in’. Too late. At first I didn’t notice, my gaze focused on the closet door, which stood half ajar. Had I closed it this morning, or did I leave it that way? I couldn’t be sure. I turned to Hawk, but as I did, my gaze passed over my bed.

My breath caught in my chest.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up on end.

“Oh my God.”

I was surprised I got the words out. My mouth was so dry, my heart pounding so hard, I was amazed I could even form words. There, strewn all over my bed and ripped to shreds, was my underwear. Not just one pair, but what looked like the entire contents of my underwear drawer.

No, not ripped. Slashed.

With a knife.

I
stared in horror at the remnants of silk, lace, and satin bras and underwear scattered over my bed. I felt like crying and retching at the same time. It felt like someone had punched me right in the gut. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t take a decent breath to save my life.

Hawk placed a hand on my shoulder.

“That’s it, you’re going to a motel.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t agree. I just stood there, dumbfounded. I finally tore my eyes away from the sight of my shredded underwear to glance at Hawk. “How the hell did he get into my house?”

“I don’t know,” he said, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. “But I’ll have Detective Cutter get over here. The police can dust for prints or… or something.” He shook his head. “Chances are the stalker wore gloves, but there’s always a chance.”

I rooted my gaze again to the mess on the bed. The bedspread didn’t look ruffled, nor did it look like anyone had laid their head on my pillow. The thought of someone getting into my bedroom, rifling through my underwear drawer, laying on my bed and doing God knows what left me feeling nauseated.

Scared.

“Come downstairs.”

He reached for my hand and lightly grasped, tried to pull me gently out of the room. My head felt like it was going to explode. Who was this guy? Why had he targeted me? And how the hell had he gotten into my house? What if I had been home? What if I hadn’t gone with Hawk to the firing range?

What if… all I had were what ifs.

I began to tremble. By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, my nerves took over. I pulled my hand from Hawk’s and, covering my mouth with one hand, I raced to the bathroom just down the hall from my office. I entered, slammed the door and flipped on the light, and barely made it to the toilet in time. I retched violently.

Tears burned in my eyes. I wept. This couldn’t be happening to me! It couldn’t! I didn’t need this! All I wanted was to be left alone, to do my work, mind my own business—

“Tracy, you okay?”

Hawk’s deep voice sounded close to the door. I nodded and then replied with a shaky affirmative. I flushed the toilet and stepped to the sink, turning on the cold water faucet. I rinsed out my mouth, spat and then splashed cold water over my face. I looked up and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked wild-eyed, pale, and panicked. I had to get a hold of myself. I couldn’t fall apart.

That’s what the bastard wanted. To make me fall apart.

I scowled into the mirror. “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction,” I snapped.

“What? Did you say something to me?”

Hawk stood on the other side of that door. I wanted more than anything at this minute to throw myself into his arms, to beg him to protect me. Then I shook my head and realized what I was doing. I was no damsel in distress. I was going to do my best to protect myself and not rely on Hawk or anyone else to do it. What if he hadn’t come into my life? What would I do then? I know what I’d do. Growing angry, I yanked open the door.

“I need to speak to Detective Cutter or Detective Westin. I don’t care which one it is, but they’re going to hear from me.”

“I already called. They’re on their way over.”

I nodded and allowed him to guide me into the living room, where he urged me to sit down on the sofa. I felt the hard, cold metal of the gun muzzle pressing against my lower back. For the first time, I felt glad that it was there.

While I sat on the couch, Hawk moved through the lower rooms again. He made sure all the curtains in every room were closed and then turned on the lights in every room he checked. I glanced at the living room curtains. Floral fabric, lined with a lightweight backing. I couldn’t see outside. I hoped the stalker couldn’t see inside.

I stared dumbly at the fabric for several minutes. The pattern was old-fashioned. Floral roses, but not too gaudy. That’s the only reason I left them up when I moved in. That and the fact that I couldn’t really afford new drapes right now. They, like many other updates and accessories that I planned for the house, were at the bottom of my to-do list.

I didn’t necessarily want to be left alone, but I could hear Hawk’s footsteps as he once again moved through my office and then re-checked the bathroom, and the storage closet. I heard him rattle the doorknob to the back door and then he returned to the kitchen. He finally retraced his steps to the couch and looked down at me.

“The back door doesn’t show any signs of forced entry. All the windows down here are intact.” He gestured upstairs. “I’m going to double check all the rooms up there. You okay?”

I offered a lame shrug. He turned and quickly headed upstairs. I was so angry I could spit. Frightened enough to turn into a puddle of weakness. My emotions ranged everywhere between those two extremes. I was mad at the police for not being able to do anything. Would they now?

My safe haven no longer seemed quite so secure or comfortable. The thought made me sick. The stalker was destroying my grandmother’s house, not physically, but emotionally. He was turning it into something that I needed to be afraid of.

Never once living in Boston had I been afraid to walk into my apartment. Here, in what was to be my Nirvana, my paradise, I wondered if I would ever be able to look at this house the same way as I had the first day I moved in.