Page 35 of Five
Neve’s front door is painted a bright teal, like her office door in the daycare. It shudders as I pound my fist against it. “Police!” I announce myself with a bellow but there’s no answer and I’m wired and impatient. I hammer on it again, giving Neve every opportunity to answer if she’s inside.
Inside and cognizant of her surroundings.
Drawing my service revolver, I take a step back and prepare to kick in the door. I second-guess myself for the briefest moment. Even the police can’t just break and enter for the hell of it. Officially, there’s no reason for me to be doing this and every reason to call for back-up and move more logically. My boss will have a conniption. Then I remember Caroline’s fear and throw caution to the wind. That girl better be prepared to be my alibi.
No, I wouldn’t be doing this if it were anyone else but Neve. I’d have followed procedure, instructed Caroline to file her concerns and get it on record, and then it would have been followed up on accordingly if her friend continued to be out of contact for a few days.
But this is Neve, and right or wrong, for better or for worse, I’m personally invested here.
So fuck it. I’ll deal with the consequences later if I have to.
Judging my aim, I kick the door, causing my knee to twinge painfully, but that’s the least of my worries right now. Damn flimsy lock buckles under the force of a single boot.
Dropping to a crouch as the splintered wood smashes against the inside wall, I sweep the interior, checking that it’s all clear before I hurry inside. The place is small, so there aren’t many places to hide, and it only takes a few seconds to establish that there’s nobody there.
No sign of an intruder, no sign of Neve.
A flash has me aiming my Glock at a moving target, preparing to fire, before I realize it’s just one of those crystal light catchers hung over a window, throwing kinetic streaks of rainbow color out after it’s been sent swinging by the motion of the door crashing open.
Fuck.
I let out a noisy breath and close my eyes, leaning back against the wall before I check the last room in the house.
I assume this must be the bathroom since it’s situated off of a pretty, feminine bedroom.
Grasping the handle, I steel myself for what I might find. The door’s locked and I rattle it, sucking in a breath before I lift my hand and knock.
“Neve? This is Oz…” I pause, my mind whirling. She doesn’t know me as Oz. It guts me to realize that I’m so invested in her I’m breaking all sorts of procedures, putting my job on the line, when in fact she’s only met me once, and not even under the best circumstances.
I clear my throat and try again, trying to gain a bit of professional perspective. “Oscar. Detective Oscar Hunt, remember me?” Are you in there?” I wait and listen but there’s no response.
Irrational fear has stopped me from thinking straight, but I’ve come this far, so there’s no point stopping now. “Neve, I’m coming in. If you can hear me, clear the doorway.”
I wait another moment, but there’s no reply, no movement, so I brace myself against the door before slamming my shoulder into it with all my weight. Pain radiates down my arm.
The lock gives a little, but the door barely budges. Either it’s more secure than the front door or something’s blocking it, so I move back in order to get a run at it.
I don’t want to think of all the implications, but I hope like hell that it’s not Neve’s body.
Seven
Neve
Mood:*snore*
Oscar’s face hovers above me, his full lips crooked in a sexy smile. He’s saying something but I can’t quite hear it…there’s this pounding in my head that drowns out the words, and I can’t make sense of them. And yet my brain is replying,take me, I’m yoursbecause I’m sure he’s speaking sweet, sweet love to me. When he leans in to kiss me, though, he’s not Oscar. He’s Oliver.
I don’t even care.
I’m dreaming, and I know I’m dreaming.
And yet as soon as I have the thought, I’m no longer dreaming. I’m just…here…in this strange fugue state between sleeping and waking.
It’s such a weird feeling, being conscious of being unconscious. That floaty, peaceful sensation, pulling me back under when I really, really need to pee.
Jamie Fraser is curled up next to me, licking my neck, jaw, and ears with his rough tongue. He’s not purring, which is strange. Jamie Fraser always purrs me awake in the morning.
I grumble, pulling the pillow beneath my head more securely around my ears. Something hard pokes into my skull, and I wince.
