Page 20 of Cruel Ice

“Tell me that you have a weapon on you,” Declan rasped. His breath trickled lightly over her ear.

She shook her head. Weapons weren’t allowed in the hospital, and she’d had to stay there all night. There were weapons stashed in her car, but since she’d ridden in the ambulance with him and abandoned her car on the side of the road—well, she wasn’t too sure where her ride was. Maybe police impound? She’d have to ask Parker. When she was done with her current emergency.

“Good thing I have one,” Declan murmured. And the man pulled out a gun.

“Where did you get that?”And when?

“James brought it to me.”

In the hospital? Where guns weren’t allowed? “That’s against the rules.”

He stared at her. Just stared. Then said, “I have the gun. That means I lead the search. You stay behind me.”

“You give way too many orders for a client.” And… “You could always give me the gun.”

He wasn’t. He was heading through her house. Since someone had to watch his arrogant back, she took care of his six. With every step, rage blossomed more and more inside of her. They slipped into her kitchen.

Every plate was smashed. Every bowl shattered.

Her hand reached out and curled around a knife that had fallen to the floor. As a rule, she hated knives. They reminded her of a time she’d like to forget, but she needed some sort of weapon. A knife was better than nothing.

Her fingers only trembled a little as she gripped the handle of the knife.

They left the kitchen. Trekked soundlessly down the small hallway. The door to her bedroom was ajar. She braced herself before they entered, so she wasn’t overly surprised to find the same chaos waiting in the room that had previously been her safe haven.

Bedding slashed. Mattress stabbed open. Every drawer in my dresser and chest pulled out. The contents littered the floor.Her underwear had been slashed just like the bedding. All her clothes—slashed. “This took a lot of time,” she whispered.

“And a lot of rage.”

Her pictures were broken, too. When she stepped forward, her foot crunched one of the pieces of glass that had been in a picture frame.

“Fucking bastard.” A low snarl from Declan.

Her head whipped to the right.

A photo was on her wall. A photo that had previously been in one of the silver frames that she kept on her nightstand. It was a picture of her standing between her two brothers. They were all smiling. Or at least, they had been smiling. It was impossible to see her expression in the photo now because a knife stabbed into her face. The blade sank into the wall behind the photo, pinning the image in place.

Her body tensed. She knew a message when she saw one. She’dgottenthe message the instant she stepped into her home and seen the wreckage. Someone was very, very angry with her.

Someone wanted her dead.

Declan reached for the knife that sliced into her photo.

“Don’t!”

He looked back at her protest.

“There could be prints on it.” The person—or people—who’d left the deadly message were long gone, but perhaps some evidence had been left behind. “And I’m not a one-woman crime-scene unit, so we need to call the cops.” Parker had to be informed. No way was this a coincidence. She saved Declan and the same night her home was destroyed? You didn’t have to be a genius to connect these dots. “The men who took you know that I got you free. Clearly, they are not happy with the turn of events.”Or with me.Her gaze darted around her bedroom. Everything was destroyed. “There isn’t going to be anything here for me to take.”

“I’ll buy you anything you need.” He’d turned away from the knife. Declan still gripped the gun in his right hand. “And I will make them pay for what they did. I promise you, I will.”

That was dangerous talk. “Declan…”

He paused right in front of her. His eyes glittered down at her. “And when I makeyoua promise,” Declan continued, voice low, lethal, and terror provoking, “you can believe that it meanseverything.As far as I’m concerned, those SOBs are dead. They just don’t know it yet.”

Chapter Five

Detective Parker Ellisstood on the threshold of Declan’s hotel suite. The detective had been pounding on the door, and Declan had reluctantly answered when the pounding persisted. The last thing he felt like doing was talking to this prick again.

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