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“Take care of her,” I ordered Jameson.

There was zero sign of the good-humored, easygoing agent I was used to seeing. The man holding my girl was someone anyone would think twice about messing with. It was the look of a man protecting the only thing that mattered to him, combined with the edge that spoke of his training and skill to take down anyone he deemed as a threat.

With that, I turned on my heels and stomped up the stairs, shoving the door open and entering the townhome. Wooden splinters crunched beneath my shoes when I crossed the threshold. Eyeing the doorframe, I took in the jagged edges and missing chunks of wood from the crowbar or something similar that was used to pop the lock.

But why didn’t the alarm go off?

Inspecting the wall, I moved to the next, then the next, looking for the alarm panel.

Nothing.

My jaw worked back and forth. The alarm didn’t go off because she didn’t have one. I fisted my hands, resisting the urge to turn back around and ask Rain what the hell she was thinking living alone without a security system, but even in my frustrated state, I knew that would be a terrible decision. I was just so fucking pissed—not at her, at the whole situation—but my anger wasn’t what she needed right now.

Marching up the stairs, I pushed the piercing pain in my knees that shot through my legs with each step to the back of my mind.

The hushed conversation between the two officers cut off, their attention jerking my way when I reached the landing.

“Detective Taylor,” one stated. “What are you doing here? This isn’t a homicide scene.”

“Dr. Evans is a friend,” I mumbled while scanning the destruction.

Pieces of glass and shattered ceramic littered the kitchen floor, and the living room looked like a few ducks had been plucked. Feathers covered the shredded couch and chair. The wires hanging from the wall suggested a TV once hung there.

“This mess, and the TV looks to be missing. Anything else?” I asked while memorizing the damage. There wasn’t a pattern to the destruction, no apparent reason for destroying her furniture and kitchen. Hands on my hips, I inhaled deep through my nose and held it. This looked to be the result not of searching for anything but for the sole action of ruining her things. Rage. This was anger-fueled, which pointed to the asshole knowing Rain.

“There aren’t any TVs upstairs, and someone emptied a jewelry box too. We’ll need Dr. Evans to walk through—”

“No,” I snapped. Inhaling and counting to three, I forced the anger and worry down deep so these two fools wouldn’t see how much this affected me. “She doesn’t need to see this. I’m going to look around upstairs.”

Not waiting for their reply, I climbed the stairs, much slower now that the rush of adrenaline had worn off. At the top, I poked my head into one room, finding it undisturbed. The next one, not so much. Stepping inside, I instantly knew it was the one Jameson had been using since bunking with Rain. An open, empty suitcase sat in the corner, the clothes tossed around the room.

Instead of inspecting the clothes to see if they were shredded like the couch downstairs, the sharp stench of bleach had me spinning on my heels and following the smell. My eyes watered, lungs burning with each shallow inhale of the harmful fumes.

Nose to my forearm, I used my shirt sleeve to filter out the worst of it while scanning the destroyed main bedroom. Based on the powerful smell radiating from the pile of clothes, they were soaked with the corrosive chemical. Maybe even the bed too.

Tears leaking down my cheeks, I turned toward the bathroom. Smashed bottles littered the floor, the glass cracking beneath my steps as I moved toward the walk-in closet.

Light already on, I paused, taking in the mess that was like the one in the bedroom and downstairs. A tall pile of clothes sat in the middle of the floor, no doubt soaked with bleach based on the almost visible fumes in the confined space. A few tops hung haphazardly on hangers as if the fucker was in too much of a rush to toss them all into the pile, ensuring every article of clothing was ruined.

Now, I didn’t know shit about shoe trends, but I knew Rain loved fancy sneakers. She talked about them all the time and was excited to show off her newest pair. All of those fancy shoes, every single one, were in a separate pile, the bleach having already discolored several pairs. A large shampoo bottle and a couple empty tubes of lotion lay nearby, probably the source of the thick substance coating the sneakers.

“What the fuck?”

I whirled around, gun in hand, at the too-close voice.

The female, who I recognized as a detective in the B&E unit, raised both hands, eyes narrowed on my gun. “Put that shit away.”

I holstered it while eyeing her as she took in the destroyed closet. “You came fast.”

Her lips quirked. “That’s what she said.” A half huff, half chuckle escaped me. “I was close, and when they said it was Dr. Evans’s place, I headed this way even though it’s my night off. This looks personal.”

I nodded, fully agreeing. Which wasn’t good. My fears of Rain being targeted seemed to be valid. Sure, the TVs were gone, but the level of destruction pointed to an ulterior motive. Making her feel unsafe or scared, maybe, and destroying the possessions that would hurt the worst, something only people who knew her would know.

“You got this?” I asked as I squeezed by her, poking my head into the bathroom, expecting to find the other detective she was always with. “Your partner here too?”

A strange look passed across her face, but it vanished in a flash. “Nah, like I said, it’s our night off. She’s out with some mysterious boyfriend, if I had to guess. She sneaks around with him a lot.”

My brows tugged close. “Why would she hide that from you?”

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