Page 47 of When He Defends
“What?”
“The mirrors.” Her wrists twisted in his hold. He didn’t let go. “They’re all broken.” Or at least, she thought they had been smashed.
No, no, don’t second guess yourself. The breaks are real. Someone smashed the mirrors.But in order to do that, someone would have needed to break into her home.
What if he’s still here?She hadn’t searched the rooms thoroughly. When she’d arrived, Nathaniel had come pounding at the front door right after she and Gray had entered the condo. There had been no time for a search of the premises.
And that was why she’d freaked and attacked Gray when he touched her. Because she was so afraid the attacker was still in her home.
“Your mirrors are broken?” The line between his brows deepened. “And that made you try to toss my ass on the floor?”
“Go look.” Her voice was too husky.
Slowly, he let her hands go. Frowned at her. “I don’t like it when you’re scared.”
Yes, well, she wasn’t particularly fond of the feeling, either. Her hands dropped.
Only for him to immediately manacle one wrist again. “Where I go, you go.”
That sounded like an excellent plan. He led the way to the half bathroom. She edged in behind him. Saw the shattered mirror and their twisted reflections.
“I’m guessing you didn’t break the mirror?” His voice had gone grim.
Emerson shook her head and told him, “The bedroom.”
“Right. Stay behind me, would you?” He bent, and his right hand pulled out his gun from the holster on his ankle. His left maintained that unbreakable, manacle grip on her wrist.
He crept toward her bedroom, moving soundlessly, and she stepped out of her heels so that she, too, would make no sound. He glanced back at her, and his frown seemed to deepen as he noticed that she suddenly was smaller.
Then he was in her bedroom. She’d left the door wide open. He eased toward her dresser. His jaw hardened even more as he took in the broken mirror above the dresser. Emerson pointed toward the attached bathroom.
He sees it, too. The broken mirrors are real. Someone came in my home. Broke them all.
Not just someone.
“What in the fuck is going on?” he rasped. Then in the next instant, “I’m searching the condo.”
Yes, good, brilliant. They should search the condo. They headed out of the bathroom. He let go of her wrist, but she quickly grabbed his arm. “A chunk of glass was missing from the half bath. Be careful. He used the glass like a knife before.”
Silence.
Then, utterly lethal and rumbling with rage,“Before?”Gray repeated.
She let go of him. Her fingers rose to her neck. Slid over the faint scar. Emerson nodded. “Before. Y-years ago…”
“He’s a fucking dead man.”
“You didn’t haveto bring me to your place.” Emerson stood right beside the couch in Gray’s den, with her overnight bag near her feet. “We both checked my home. The intruder was gone.” Her gaze tracked around the room. Lingered for just a moment on the wide bookshelves to the right. Her eyes seemed to take in each book. For just a moment, he could have sworn that her lips even moved as she began to count the volumes there.
One, two, three…
Gray’s teeth snapped together.Emerson counts when she’s stressed or scared.A habit he’d picked up on early in theirpartnership. And he knew with certainty that she was terrified right then. How could she not be? Some sick sonofabitch had broken into her home. Shattered her mirrors.
He was furious that she’d been terrorized. Add the fact that this shit had happened to her before?Oh, the hell, no.Every protective instinct that he possessed was in overdrive. Then again, his protective instincts were always on high alert where Emerson was concerned.
He’d insisted on calling the cops. Filing a B&E report with the local cops, though they’d been pretty useless on scene. There had been no sign of a forced entry at Emerson’s place, and the cops hadn’t exactly bought that someone had just come inside in order to break some mirrors.
Gray bought the story. The mirrors had been a message. A taunt. A threat. All of the freaking above.Those broken mirrors terrified Emerson.Exactly what the perp had wanted.
