Page 61 of Death Raiser

His phone vibrated again. He swore and stepped back. “I’m on call.”

“It’s okay.” And it was. We both had taxing jobs that had a way of interfering with our lives.

Connor looked like he wanted to say more but answered the call instead. “Kang, here.”

“Connor…” Jacobs spoke loud enough for me to catch snippets. “Need…help…on…”

Connor checked his watch and cursed again. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

And there went my plans for the rest of the evening. My heart sunk and the butterflies that had been fluttering in my belly collapsed. But, if Jacobs needed help, he needed help. “Can I do anything?”

“Not with this one.” He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss on my cheek. “We’ll talk soon. You have your keys?”

I held them up and shook them. The metal jangled.

He nodded and hesitated to study my face one last time, his expression torn.

“Go,” I said. “Jacobs needs you and I’m not going anywhere. We can pick this up another night.”

“Be careful what you promise.” He winked and squeezed my hand before turning away to jog down the stairs.

I didn’t know which view I preferred—Connor coming or going.

I paused to smile at the empty street while I stood at my apartment’s front entrance.

One thing was for sure, the man certainly knew how to fill a pair of pants.

I unlocked the main door and made my way to my apartment. When I entered, I called out, “Logan? Brandon?”

Neither of them answered. I turned to hang my purse up on its designated hook and saw a sticky note.

It read: Went out. Don’t wait up.

Typical. Those two were probably out partying hard. We had very different ways of coping with the stress of our jobs. I didn’t judge. The boys would come home at a god-forsaken hour, probably with the sun rising shortly after. Then they’d rinse and repeat. I didn’t know how either of them did it. I simply didn’t have the energy.

Maggie hissed and ran past me to my bedroom. I paused in the living room. Some of the furniture was out of place. That in itself wasn’t odd, but an unfamiliar cologne clung to the air.

I sniffed again, but either I imagined things or I’d already acclimatized to the new scent. Unease swirled in my stomach. Even with the cologne smell gone, something was off. Something was wrong. The energies in the room were in turmoil.

Bernie’s ghost appeared out of nowhere and pulsed in front of me. “Run.”

I reached into my pocket to pull out my phone.

A hand clamped over my face, holding a cloth over my mouth and nose. Another arm wrapped around my body, pinning my arms to my sides and preventing me from moving. I thrashed, flailing my legs. The heels of my feet connected with my assailant’s shins, and he grunted. His grip loosened. Pushing away, I staggered forward, my brain fuzzy, my limbs heavy, fighting whatever drugs I’d inhaled.

I gasped for air.

The man reached for me, his hand snagged my hair and necklace. Something snapped and metal clattered to the floor.

Fight.

I scrambled, trying to get away, trying to clear the drugs from my lungs with each rasping breath of air. The man used his hold on my hair to push me forward, my legs buckled. I lurched and fell. My body too numb and my brain too scrambled to react, I hit the floor with a loud smack. The man was on me, the cloth over my nose and mouth again. My field of vision narrowed. The edges grew fuzzy and faded. My arms twitched as I tried desperately to move them and use some of my self-defence training.

I should have kissed Connor.

Everything went black.

Chapter Eighteen

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