I didn’t have a cat.
A gun went off.
The man holding me chuckled. Then he shoved his face so close to mine that I wanted to recoil, but I was unable. His breath was hot on my ear when he whispered, “That new man of yours is a real pussy hater. Better be careful.”
He pulled the rag and his violent grip away. I sagged to the floor, falling into a heap among my hanging dresses and shirts.
Spencer yelled my name, and I heard a scuffle and commotion.
Another shot was fired.
Glass shattered.
The lights went out.
17
“Why won’t she wake up?”
The urgent tone of the deep voice intruded upon the darkness claiming me. It was unbelievably thick, and I began to panic that I wouldn’t be able to get free.
“He used chloroform on her. You know that shit knocks people out,” another voice replied.
“He was right under my fucking nose,” he growled. “He fucking got her, and I was standing right here.”
“This isn’t your fault, Waller.”
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” he swore.
I wanted to call out to Spencer, to tell him I was okay. The pure rage and fear in his voice cut through the darkness and attached itself around me. Every word he spoke towed me further to the surface.
“Do I need to remove you from this investigation?” the man responded. “I can put you on another detail until this is over.”
I felt the deadly calm radiate around the room. “Try,” Spence growled. “I won’t listen.”
“You would risk your entire career for this perp?” the man asked. I think it was Walsh.
“Not for him,” Spencer rebuked. “For her.”
I tried to force my eyelids open. I wanted to shout that I was here, and I didn’t want him sacrificing anything for me.
“Are you in love with her?” Walsh asked, his voice quiet.
Everything inside me stilled. I stopped struggling against the sludge holding me under. The only thing I could focus on was that question and the answer Spencer would give.
Seconds ticked by.
“Fuck,” he swore. The pure emotion behind his favorite word speared me. I felt him move closer, felt him staring down at me. “She totally snuck up on me,” he whispered.
And just like that, I shoved through the heaviness. I wanted so badly to look into Spencer’s amber gaze.
He loved me.
I blinked my eyes open. It took long moments to focus, and when I finally did, all I saw was Spence. His face was drawn. His hair was a wreck, and his jaw was unshaven. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and I realized it was because I was wearing it. All he had on was a pair of jeans, and he was looking across the room.
Walsh sighed heavily. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You spend more time in the kitchen than any agent should.”
“Hey,” Spencer said, his voice growing hard. “I do my job.”
“Yes, you do. And you’re good at it.”
“If you take me off this case, I’ll go rogue.” Spencer warned.
My voice scraped from my sore throat. “No.”
He was right there instantly, bending over me, his eyes filled with concern. “Elle?”
I smiled groggily. “Hey…”
He let out a string of inappropriate cuss words and then dropped on the edge of the bed, making my body slide against his hip when the mattress dipped. “How are you feeling?”
“Kind of fuzzy,” I said.
His hands brushed at my hair, sweeping it back from my face. “It’ll wear off.”
I nodded. “Jack?”
“He’s fine, darlin’.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“We were hoping you could tell us,” Walsh said from across the room.
I frowned.
“Take your time,” Spencer said.
I moved to sit up and he wrapped his arm beneath me and helped. We were in my bedroom, at my house. I glanced around as the fog lifted from my brain.
I remembered the man in the house…
The window was still open and the pane above the bottom one was shattered. I remembered the sound of the gun going off.
I gasped and grabbed Spencer’s arm. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He assured me.
“The man that was here…” My eyes went to the closet, and everything that happened came back to me.
Crap. I wasn’t wearing any pants.
I looked down, totally mortified. Blankets covered me to my waist. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked at Spencer. He winked.
Heat suffused me as I remembered what Spencer and I were doing before the man broke in again.
“Elle, what happened?” Walsh asked, stepping closer to the bed.
“Did you call the police?” I worried, not wanting any of this to hit the news. It would only anger whoever was behind this more.
“Of course not. The Secret Service is handling this for now,” Walsh replied.
Spencer remained tightlipped, his jaw tight. I had the overwhelming urge to smooth my hand over his rough jaw and take away some of the edge from within his eyes. Our audience kept my hand in my lap.
I realized Walsh knew there was something between us, but he’d been privy to enough of our private moments for one night.
“Did I hear a cat?” I asked, distracting myself from thoughts of Spence.
“There was a cat in the room,” Spencer said. “He locked it in there.”
“Why on Earth would he do that?” I wondered.
“To distract me,” Spencer muttered. “To get you alone.”
“Spence,” I said softly, reaching for his hand. I hated seeing him beat himself up this way.
He stood, gently rebuffing my hand, and paced the carpet.
“I heard gunshots.” I remembered.
“I fired at the cat. It leapt at me and I just reacted.”
“Did you kill it?” I worried.
He stopped pacing and looked at me. “You’re worried about a cat?”
“It’s a helpless animal.”
Walsh and Spencer looked at me like I was insane.
I don’t see what the big deal was. I mean, geez, a girl needed to know if a cat was shot and killed in her house.
“Well?” I demanded, not backing down from their looks.
“No, the cat’s fine,” Spencer muttered.
“And the window?” I asked, glancing at the shattered panes.
“I shot those out, too,” Spencer muttered.
“It’s not like you to miss a shot.” Walsh grunted.