Page 17 of Marked

“Arms up!” she cried, barrelling inside.

He peddled backward raising his hands, veiled defiance stewing on his features.

“Behind your head.”

He clamped his fingers together at the back of his neck, his stance relaxed, as if she didn’t have shit on him.

She scanned the apartment. Only the kitchen and living room were visible. “Where is she?” Her voice rose to a shrill octave. “Bella! Bella, it’s me! Call if you’re here.”

Silence.

Emotion clogged her throat, and her arms wavered under the weight of her gun. She brought her finger to the trigger and aimed the weapon at Cole’s forehead. “Where is she, you sonofabitch?”

Cole’s eyes narrowed. Confusion curved his lips. “Come again?”

“My daughter,” she screamed. “Where is she?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, lady.”

Rage coursed through her veins. She turned her gun in her hand and swung the heavy handle at his jaw. His face snapped to the side, and a red mark spread across his skin. “You sick fuck. Where’s my daughter?” Her throat closed on the words, and her cries turned into gasps.

Cole turned his head back to face her. She expected fire. She expected fury. Instead, his dark-gray orbs met her with sympathy. “I didn’t touch your kid. I swear to God.”

She shook her head, a derisive laugh breaking through her lips. “You were at my house last night. You threatened me. Stalked me. Of course it’s you—or you hired someone to do it.” Tears burst forth as if a dam had broken, and it became next to impossible to hold the gun steady in her trembling hands.

Her legs wobbled, and she backed up toward the wall for support. If she didn’t anchor to something she’d collapse.

Cole’s jaw rocked back and forth. “If I took her, do you think I’d be stupid enough to hang out here? When you know where I live?”

She kept the gun trained on him despite her muscles’ refusal to hold the weapon properly. She placed one hand against the wall, the only thing keeping her upright.

“You’re the only one—”

“You sure about that?” he shot back. “Before you accuse someone of kidnapping, you’d better be damn sure there’s no one else who could have done this. You know my MO. If I were a baby snatcher, you’d know about it.” He lowered his hands from his head and moved toward her.

Her mouth opened and closed, but her tongue refused to cooperate.

He stopped a few feet away then reached out and put his hand on top of the gun. Her lips wobbled.

He wasn’t wrong.

There was one other possibility...

No, she’d been careful. Almost no one knew what she was doing in her other case. Besides, the monster in front of her was the most obvious suspect. She stared into his earnest face. The chiseled line of his jaw was hard, determined. His dark eyebrows met over his nose.

“I know this is hard to believe, but I swear to you, I didn’t touch your daughter. I would never hurt a child.” He spoke softly, his husky voice barely audible. He lifted a shoulder. “Jesus. I couldn’t even hurt you when I needed to save my ass—and you think I’d go after a little girl?”

Her chin trembled. God, she needed to stop shaking.

He hadn’t hurt her. Scared her, yes. Violated her space, yes. But even when he’d had the upper hand, even when she’d spat in his face, he’d done little more than restrain her.

The realization that he might be innocent, that someone else had Bella and she’d been wrong, hit her like a truck.

She lowered the weapon and covered her mouth. “Ohmigod,” she wheezed. She squeezed her eyes shut and her brain flickered with the need to shut down. Her knees buckled, and strong hands caught her biceps as she sank to the floor.

***

Cole knelt in front of the hunched detective, whose gun was in a firm grip on her knee. He couldn’t blame her for not trusting him.

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