14 Weeks (Investigators Book 2), page 5
And, worst of all, there were bright red smears of blood on the edge of the desk and one of Cassie's shoes discarded on the floor.
My entire body went ramrod straight as panic started to flood my system, made every inch of me feel like it was buzzing, electric, foreign and intolerable as I whipped around, paranoid. My heart was in my throat as I scanned the store.
My hand rose, shaking so hard that I had trouble scanning through my contacts before I found the number he had sent me in an email.
"Tig."
I thought maybe his voice would give comfort, but it seemed to make the hysteria bubble up inside, made my voice a weird squeak.
"She's gone!"
There was a short pause. "Who is gone, Kenz?"
"Cassie. She's gone. She's... I went for lunch, and I came back, and she's gone, and there is a mess and blood and her shoe. And she's gone!"
"Okay." His voice was a little more firm than usual, no-nonsense. It was likely in response to my hysteria, knowing he needed to keep me as calm as possible. "Kenz, I need you to get out of the store, okay? Get out right now and just... just stand out front if you want and wait for me. Or go to the coffee shop. Just get out of the store and in plain sight, okay?" There was a pause as I forced my legs to move, not actually feeling them, like they were sleep-numb, though they weren't as I actually had to focus on picking them up and moving toward the door. Slow. It was way too slow. "Kenzi?"
"I'm out," I said, my voice airy as I swallowed hard, looking around, full of paranoia.
"Okay good. I need you to stay on the phone, okay?" He moved the phone from his mouth; his tone muffled as he barked out something to someone else and then I heard the whoosh of cars as he, I imagined, got on the street to get in his car. "Kenz," he said again, his voice a whip, cracking through the weird fog my brain felt stuck in.
Cassie.
My Cassie.
My best friend in the freaking world. The girl I played with, grew with, built a life with.
And there was some psycho out there- some bastard who wanted to shove whole limbs inside of us- and he had her. He had her and there was no telling how long there would be before something awful started happening to her.
"Breathe," he demanded, making me realize my chest was actually tight, that I hadn't been breathing. So I took a long, deep breath, finding it somehow made everything even worse. "I am two minutes away." There was reassurance in his voice, but it fell on deaf ears because all that I could hear was my own heartbeat whooshing in my ears. My belly was somehow a knot, but swirling ominously at the same time, making me genuinely worry I might get sick all over my own feet.
It felt like no time, but an eternity at the same time, before his car screeched to a halt behind me, behind my car, double-parked in a town that hated that shit, but obviously not caring as he ran up on me with the engine still running.
His giant hands closed around my shoulders before one released to snag my chin and drag my face up. "I need you to get in my car and lock the door. Right now. Kenz," he added when I made no response. "Right fucking now."
That got through- the bossiness of it, I guess.
I shocked back and nodded as he moved toward my store.
I climbed in, finding that the inside smelled like he did- some crisp male-scented soap or cologne. My hand reached numbly toward the lock and hit the button, watching the door like some crazy machete-wielding psycho might come bursting out.
But the only person who came out was Tig, motioning at me and I reached for the handle and pushed the door open, walking back to him on legs that were no less numb.
"Here we go," he said, and I heard it too- the sirens.
"You called the cops?" I asked, brows drawing together. The words came out almost like an accusation.
"I can do a lot of shit, honey, but I can't lead up an investigation on a kidnapping."
Then I felt the weirdest thing.
His hand slid under mine, his fingers moving between mine, and then curling and holding tight.
It was so unexpected that even though the cops were there- sirens and lights all over, men popping out with guns- my eyes went there instead, finding myself oddly mesmerized by how his hand seemed to completely consume mine. I had that caramel-colored skin; his was several shades darker. There were scars on his knuckles. And maybe it was inappropriate to notice given the situation, but he had very neat and trimmed nails.
Two cops in blue moved past us, guns raised, and disappeared inside my store as Tig's hand gave mine a reassuring squeeze, practically cracking the bones in the process.
How strange to be so strong, I mused as another man exited a sedan in a deep gray suit that, while expertly tailored to fit his strong body well, my fashion-trained eyes knew to be a somewhat cheap quality. He was good-looking otherwise- young for a detective with a fit body, classically handsome face, dark hair, and dark eyes.
I had seen him at the NBPD station when I had been in one of the many times I had been in there over the past several months though he had never been the detective on my case. No, I had some old jerk with a pinched face and splotchy skin who talked down to me and all but ensured me that the harassment would stop and there was no real threat.
"Lloyd," Tig said, jerking his chin as the man approached.
"Tig," Lloyd said, doing a similar chin thing as he reached into his pocket for a notepad and pen. "I'm assuming you trudged through the crime scene." The words were a bit testy, but his tone seemed almost teasing.
"That's me. The bull in the China shop. Fucked everything up in there." Tig's smile was wry. "I just checked to make sure no one was around and came right back out.
"Okay sweetheart," he said, turning his dark eyes to me. "I know you've filed reports, but I need all your info again."
There was another bone-crushing squeeze that had me shocking out of my stupor. My head shook hard once, clearing the fog in my brain. "Kenzi Washington. I own Luxe. My partner, well, she's more of an employee I guess, well we have been getting threats."
"And when the detective had nothing to go on, you went to Sawyer? Or are you two a thing?"
My mouth opened and closed once, an action that Lloyd didn't miss if the way his lips twitched was anything to go by. "I, ah, I went to Sawyer to see if they had other ways of getting information."
"Less than legal ways? I'm sure he does. Okay. Tell me about today," he started, flagging down a cop as he walked past and told him to call my security camera company.
"Everything was fine. Dead because we had all our clothes ruined last week by this psycho."
"This kind of psycho," Tig interrupted, holding out his phone screen toward Lloyd who looked impassive for a second before a muscle started ticking in his jaw, everything about him tightening.
"Tell me the rest in the office or wherever you can access the security footage for all the cameras."
With that, he moved into the store, leaving us on the street. Where I might have stayed indefinitely had Tig not actually dragged me along with him, not bothering to encourage or comfort me. There wasn't time for that.
So I was pulled through my store that suddenly felt less like home, less like a place I loved. It felt very much like what it was- a crime scene.
My stomach twisted hard when I saw the cops taking pictures behind my desk. But then Tig was yanking me through to the back, past the tiny makeshift kitchen and into an even smaller room that served as the office- just a cubby of a room with an Ikea desk because it was the only one small enough with a computer on top. There was a heavy-duty safe crammed beneath, bolted into the floor.
"Safe hasn't been touched," Lloyd observed as Tig pushed me into the room where I took the seat and fired up the computer with numb fingers, surprised I was even able to type in the passcode.
"Kenz, honey, rewind it," Tig had to prompt me when I brought up the footage, showing the cops in my store, looking at all my stuff, taking samples of Cassie's blood, making my stomach pitch to the floor.
"Right," I agreed, moving the mouse and hitting rewind.
It was a blur, and I stopped it as I hopped up off the desk and moved to go get lunch. There was Cassie- alive and well, doing something on her phone. Nothing amiss.
It was a good five minutes later when someone came in from the back, behind her, grabbing her.
The back of my chair was grabbed, pulling me to the side until I hit the wall as Lloyd moved in, trying to get a closer look. He took the mouse as I watched Cassie struggle. Bless her, she fought. She was not the kind of woman to just accept her fate. She reached up behind her, clawing at the man in a ski mask, cliché of all clichés. She kicked backward, hitting his shin and sending them both toppling forward where her head smashed against the edge of the desk. My heart stopped beating right then, seeing her body go slack, watching the man be able to grab her effortlessly, tossing her over his shoulder like some kind of drunk girl at a bar, her head against his back, his arm right under her ass. One of her feet was bare.
"Are there cameras out..." Lloyd started and I was vaguely aware of him looking at me, but my gaze was stuck on the camera, watching my best friend disappear with a man who wanted to assault her, taking her right out of my life.
"There are cameras in the front, back, and down the side alley," Tig supplied for me.
"Get her out of here. She's no use to us if she's fucking catatonic."
With that, Tig's hand grabbed the side of the chair, sliding it out into the back room, kneeling down in front of me which, since he was a giant, still made him taller than me. There was a squeezing sensation on my knees and my gaze moved down to find his giant hands completely covering them. My eyes followed them up to the wrists, over the strong forearms, then the giant, corded muscle of his biceps that made the material of his tee stretch to fit over.
"Kenzi, honey, you need to take a breath," he reminded me.
I swallowed hard, finding the motion difficult with a dry mouth as my eyes finally landed on his- finding them active, both concerned and spinning.
I knew I was supposed to say something. But no words could string together in my brain, let alone find their way to my tongue.
"Lloyd, can I take her home to calm her down? You have her address."
Lloyd sounded distracted, distant, when he barked out a 'yeah'.
The next thing I knew, I wasn't in the chair.
I also wasn't on my own two feet either.
Because suddenly, those strong arms I had admired so much were around me, holding me tightly to his solid chest, lifting me up effortlessly and carrying me through the store and right out to his car.
It was wrong of me.
My friend was kidnapped.
She was in the arms of a man who wanted to brutally rape her and me.
My mind should not have been able to go there given the situation, but it did regardless.
It felt right to be in his arms.
Safe.
I wasn't sure I had ever felt that sensation while in a man's arms before.
It was over far too quickly when I felt the cool leather of his car seat surround me instead of his warm body. The car door slamming seemed to jumpstart my heart as he moved around the car, climbed in, and took off in the direction of my apartment building.
"I should be help..." I started.
"You can't do anything there right now. Better you get home, calm down, and try to think."
There was enough truth in that that made me keep my mouth shut. "But shouldn't you..."
Again, he cut me off. "Sawyer and Barrett are already on it. When I called the security company to fix your camera, I also had them give us access so we could keep an eye on things."
"Whoa, wait," I said, somehow that being able to pierce through the otherwise completely oppressive knowledge that my best friend was missing. "You did what? Have you been creeping on us?"
Tig pulled off into a slot in my parking lot, turning slightly in his seat to give me what I could only call a mischievous smile, giving him a slightly less intimidating presence for a moment. "Only here and there when I am in the office. Barrett probably keeps a closer eye. But don't worry, he's not the type to judge."
I knew Barrett well enough to know that was the damn truth. He was a bit of a freak and way too smart for anyone's good.
But another thought seemed to make my racing heart freeze completely.
"Wait... judge? What would he have to judge unless..." I could feel my blood start to boil when his face went sheepish. "You had him add the sound?" I exploded.
When we had the cameras installed, we were given the option to have the footage muted or have the sound. I had no interest on eavesdropping on Cass phone sexing with her man when I reviewed the footage on occasion, and I had no one else to worry about, so I opted for muted.
But he called and changed that?
He had been listening to us?
For a week?
Oh, good lord.
In the span of a nanosecond, my brain raced over every single conversation Cassie and I had had over the course of the past week. There was a lot of banal shop talk and design talk and just bullshitting about TV or plans for the weekend.
But that very morning...
"Were you listening this morning?" It could not be said I was one for subtlety. When I wanted to know something, I just asked. Blunt was my default communication style. I didn't have the patience for bullshit.
Tig wasn't exactly the type to pussyfoot either it seemed because the next words out of his mouth told me all I needed to know. "Nothing wrong with being in a dry spell."
Crap.
So he had heard the conversation.
About Cassie accusing me of wanting his dick, of me admitting it had been a long time, about me saying he had nice arms.
"Had to talk to Sawyer around the time Cass told you that your type sucked."
There was no real comfort in that since the only thing that happened after that was me complaining about his Tims. That, well, was totally something I would tell him to his face anyway, so it was a moot point.
"And, judging by my research honey, your type does fucking suck."
That was the last thing he said before he cut the engine, turned, slid out, and slammed the door.
I barely had a second to let those words sink in before my door was opening and he was offering a hand to me. A hand. Like guys did in movies.
I unbelted and put my hand there, letting him help me down even though I was tall enough to manage that all on my own. It was sweet. And while I might have been a woman who could handle all her own shit, I was not the type to roll my eyes at good old-fashioned manners.
"Did you get anywhere on Cassie's list?" I asked as he fell into step beside me, his hand never releasing mine. And it was the, what, third time I found him holding my hand. I maybe liked it a bit more than I should have. I was just going to allow myself to believe that all that had to do with was the incredibly high-emotion situation I suddenly found myself in. I did not handle things that caused too much emotion all at once well.
It was just some much-needed comfort.
Reese and I lived on the third floor in a mid-range apartment building. It wasn't like those luxury ones they had just built- all marble and those gray wood stained floors that were so in vogue. But that being said, it wasn't Shane Mallick's flophouse apartments either. It was perfectly acceptable. For now. I had bigger dreams but there was a lot more work to put in before I reached them.
I pushed the key into the lock and led Tig inside.
I had done a lot of work and Reese, well, she contributed about five million books that she had stacked in a color coordinated pattern on floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined all three sides of our living room. The floors had been sanded and refinished to a deep, almost black, color. The walls were a warm silvery gray. All the light fixtures had been replaced with more modern ones; the kitchen cabinets were all new, crisp white replacing the Godawful brownish fake wood ones that had been there when we moved in that I was convinced were installed in the seventies. And never cleaned since then either. The living room furniture was one deep charcoal gray tufted sofa, a papasan chair that Reese practically lived in, all curled up with her books, and an oversized sparkly poof that I tended to sit on, half-hunched over the black coffee table sketching my designs or looking over spreadsheets.
There was a hall off the kitchen that led to the two moderately-sized bedrooms and one shared, but oversized bath that Reese had set to work on, being a bubble bath whore that demanded a giant soaking tub and all kinds of the right ambiance or some shit. I let her have at it because she gave me the lion's share of the drawers in the vanity for my makeup and other products.
It was a nice place.
I felt not an ounce of discomfort at Tig seeing it.
Even if it was admittedly a bit girly.
Who cared.
Girls lived there.
"Stay here," he demanded, releasing my hand, pressing me back against the wall in my living room.
Then with that, being all badass, he stalked through my house, checking behind everything, inside closets, making sure I was safe.
There was a completely unexpected swelling feeling inside at that idea.
Safe.
Why was that the thought that kept coming to mind around him?
I shook my head, rolling my eyes at the direction of my own thoughts. Of course I thought he was safe. I was currently in the middle of a wholly unsafe situation, and he was a big, strong man who looked like he could probably win a fight against a Semi.
It had nothing to do with him as a person and everything to do with his big, manly muscles.
Or so I was trying to convince myself.
"You seriously don't even have a deadbolt on that door?" That was how he greeted me when he emerged from Reese's bedroom, jerking his chin toward the door in question where we had a normal lock and two chains. It had never occurred to us to have more than that since we lived in a relatively good area and there had never been any kind of criminal activity that we knew of in the building.
I opened my mouth to say just that when the screaming of his phone shut me up.
"Tig. Yeah, she... alright. Right. Sure. Keep me posted."
