Page 100 of Possession

That’s what I got for not carrying on a supposed date. That would teach me.

I opened the app on my phone and scrubbed through the video feed, but there didn’t seem to be anything…wait, there.

A shadow at the corner of the frame.

I rewound it, but whomever dared to come into my house had kept to the edges as if they knew where the cameras were.

Who the fuck would know that?

“What the hell are you doing?” Grace let out a hiss as I turned, pistol in hand. “Is that thing loaded?”

Officially one of the dumbest questions ever, but an oft repeated one.

I spared her a quelling glance. “Wait here,” I said again, though I was fairly certain whomever had invaded my home had done so to spy and not to catch us unguarded. But you could never be too careful, especially when guarding precious valuables.

And Grace. She was the most precious of all.

She made a noise in her throat, and I took one last glimpse of her, cradling the cupcakes as if they were her firstborn children. The image made me want to smile, but I had to focus on the cold steel in my hand. It matched the coldness in my chest, seeping outward to encase every vital organ.

I didn’t want to kill anyone. Unless I had no choice.

If it was necessary to protect Grace, no other option existed.

I moved into the living room and scanned every corner. Being fastidious allowed me to easily see what was out of place, even when others did not. Moving into the dining room, I did the same, and on into the other rooms on the first floor. Always cataloging.

After circling back around, I glanced at Grace, still rolling her eyes in the front hall. I held up a finger and inclined my head upstairs before taking the stairs two at a time.

At the top, I stopped and listened. Utter silence, other than the purr of the furnace.

Still, I checked every room from top to bottom. Up here, there were fewer tells. The phone on the nightstand in the master bedroom had been moved, likely during the search for a safe. Too bad I didn’t have a safe in the master bedroom. That was about as smart as freezing your valuables.

Thieves had a playbook, and many of them seemed to read from the same page.

I returned to the foyer and put away my gun in the safe. Grace sighed as if she’d known exactly what would happen.

“See, I told you. No one’s been in here.”

I locked the safe again and slipped the panel that disguised it back into place. Then I turned and lifted a brow. “Oh, someone’s been in here. Of that I have no doubt.”

Her lower lip trembled. “You’re serious?”

“I’m serious. Exhibit A.” I moved to the notepad on the side table in the living room. “This was to the left of the phone earlier. Now it’s been placed on the right.”

Grace frowned and set down her perilously balanced stack of bakery boxes on the sideboard. She walked over to join me, then pulled out the drawer and started rooting through the stash of pens and pencils that had multiplied there.

Part and parcel of living with a woman, it seemed. One day, you were simply overrun with their stuff. Grace’s just happened to be more of the art supply variety than mascara wands and fluffy slippers.

“Charcoal,” she explained, as if I didn’t recognize the pencil she held up. She snatched the notepad, flipped to the top page and started scratching.

“What the hell are you?—”

Then I remembered. Freaking vampire TV show.

I peered over her shoulder. All I saw was a big smudge from the pencil on the page. “Well?”

“Nothing. They didn’t write on the pad, or they took a couple pages off the top as a cushion.” She blew out a breath and handed the pad back to me. “You’re sure it was moved?”

Before I could reply, she nodded. “Of course you’re sure, Mr. Anal Retentive.”

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