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  “When I think about what it would be like to have her indebted to me, I can understand exactly why you’d take out Kardascian.”

  Mike grunted. “You should write fiction, Abramson.”

  “Come on. You can’t tell me she isn’t grateful for what you did.”

  “I escorted Cassie Allen to Kardascian’s to discuss a case he’s involved with at PPS. Anything beyond that is a figment of your imagination.”

  “You want to stick with that?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “What if I tell you Cassie Allen is singing a very different story?”

  Mike’s gut bunched like a fist. Cassie hadn’t made up something in a misguided effort to save him, had she? If she had, he needed to set things straight and he needed to set them straight now. “If she’s saying she has anything to do with Kardascian or me, she’s lying.”

  The county detective studied him through narrowed eyes. “Even if what she said saves your ass?”

  Mike nodded. “Even then. She’d never seen Kardascian face-to-face until today. And all that’s ever been between her and me is work. I headed up a Denver PD task force that worked with Evangeline Prescott on a couple of occasions, and Cassie is an employee of PPS. End of story.”

  “And you’re sticking to that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your funeral.”

  A knock sounded.

  Abramson ambled to the door. He opened it and a deputy handed him a report. He closed the door and paced across the floor of the small interview room, looking down at the paperwork in his hands.

  The residue-test result. It had to be.

  Mike waited. If someone in the sheriff’s department had doctored the evidence against him, this would be the time to hit him with it. Abramson would use it like a club to try to pummel him into a confession.

  Abramson kept walking, his club nowhere in sight.

  Time for Mike to do a little pushing. “So what’s next, Detective? Are you going to arrest me now, or am I free to go?”

  Abramson kept pacing as if he hadn’t heard.

  “You can’t prove the gun was in my possession or that it was fired by me. Your only witness says I was trying to save Kardascian’s life. You have nothing. Do I have to call a lawyer to pry me out of this place?”

  Abramson stared at him for a full ten seconds without blinking. Twenty. Finally he shrugged his bony shoulders. “Yeah. Go. What the hell. I know where to find you.”

  Mike pushed to his feet, the muscles in his legs eager for the movement. “You don’t have reason to hold Cassie Allen, either.”

  “She left a couple of hours ago.”

  A couple of hours? Good. He’d read Abramson right. All his talk was just that, talk. Designed to exploit any guilt Mike might be feeling, to press him into a corner. If he really believed there was any significance to the relationship between Mike and Cassie, he would have held her for questioning as long as he legally could.

  “She was trying to convince us you’re a saint.”

  Cassie? A warm shimmer loosened the unease in his gut. Since walking into the PPS offices this morning, he’d gotten the unmistakable impression she didn’t want him anywhere near her. It felt good that she believed in him after all.

  He caught himself before the feeling went too far. “She doesn’t know me very well.”

  Abramson shot him a droll look. “Apparently not. You can get your truck back tomorrow. If we’re done with it by then. The handgun you had with you at Kardascian’s might take a little longer.” Abramson pulled open the door.

  “Great.” If losing his backup weapon and finding a ride back to the ranch were the biggest problems he faced after all this, he was lucky. He supposed he could always call the old man about the ride. Whether his father would choose to answer was anyone’s guess.

  “Stick around town,” Abramson said. “I’m sure I’ll have more questions for you.”

  “I know the drill.” Mike stepped out of the room and walked down the short hall leading to the front vestibule. Relief filtered through his blood and penetrated his bones with each step. As long as Cassie wasn’t dragged into this mess, he could deal with it. And the first thing he’d do—even before figuring out a way to get home without his truck—was to call Evangeline and demand she find Cassie a real bodyguard. One the Dirty Three and their supporters still on the job weren’t gunning for.

  With Abramson on his heels, Mike rounded the corner and pushed through the heavy door to the vestibule.

  There standing in the entrance to the sheriff’s department headquarters was Cassie. A smile of relief broke over her face that only a blind man could miss. She raised her hands. I thought you might need a ride.

  CASSIE KEPT HER EYES on the road. The bad thing about preferring to sign instead of speak was that she couldn’t carry on much of a conversation while driving.

  That was the good thing, too.

  Since they’d left the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department and gotten on Highway 58 out of Golden, Mike had been on a solid rant about the dangers of letting law enforcement know she had anything to do with him. From what she’d chosen to read from his lips and flying hands, she got the distinct impression he wanted to wrap her up in Bubble Wrap and pack her away for her own good.

  Luckily, though it was late enough at night that the traffic was light, she had to focus on the road. An easy way to tune him out. And with her hands on the wheel, he certainly couldn’t expect her to reply. But the urge to give him a return lecture about how she already had a doting, overprotective father and she didn’t need him to fill that role pressed at her lips.

  She took in a deep breath. The sweet smell of malt from the Coors brewery still filled the car’s interior, almost drowning out the subtle scent of leather and male.

  Almost.

  She had to be crazy, going back to the sheriff’s department to pick up Mike. Or maybe she was just a masochist. Whenever he was near, she felt like a helpless little kid. No, like a helpless, giddy teenager who couldn’t control her hormones.

  At least if he kept up this overprotective act, she’d have a constant reminder of why she couldn’t throw herself into his arms. Nothing like being cast in the role of poor little deaf girl to quash the wayward libido.

  Mike’s light touch on her arm caused her to jump. She glanced at him.

  Drive to your apartment, he signed.

  He wanted to stay at her apartment? A tremor started somewhere south of her stomach. He couldn’t be planning to watch over her twenty-four hours a day, could he? She shook her head and returned her focus to the road.

  He tapped her arm again.

  The only thing more disconcerting than his scent was his touch. She gave him another glance.

  I have to swing by police headquarters, he signed. Your apartment is near PPS, right?

  She let out a relieved breath and nodded, feeling as if she’d dodged a bullet. She exited the interstate and wound her way through surface streets. With traffic growing sparse in the late hour, it didn’t take long to get to her apartment. A converted warehouse, her loft was in a square redbrick building adjacent to the downtown pedestrian mall. Full of life and energy. And an easy commute to PPS.

  She pulled to the curb. Taking a deep breath, she twisted in her seat to face him. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.

  To her relief, he nodded. I’m sorry to have put you through all that at the sheriff’s department.

  It’s not as if it was your fault.

  That depends on who you ask.

  She knew he’d meant it as a joke. Sort of. But there was far too much truth in the statement to make her laugh. The sheriff’s department and Denver police don’t really think you killed Milo Kardascian, do they?

  He twitched one shoulder in a shrug. Some do. Some don’t.

  It seemed like everyone we saw today did. Except your partner.

  That’s what partners are for.

  And the rest?

  They’re doing their jobs
.

  She supposed that was a defense, but it seemed like a poor one to her. The people who worked with Mike should know him better than that. Here she’d only been around him a handful of times before today and she knew he was no murderer. He was a good man. Overprotective. Disconcerting. Not someone she needed to be around. But a good man nonetheless, despite any so-called “evidence” in his past. Detective Grady explained some things to me.

  He narrowed his eyes on her, scanning her face. Let me guess. My history with Kardascian.

  She nodded.

  He stared out the windshield, his lips visible in the glow from a nearby streetlight. “I should have told you…all of it…before we went to his house.”

  Why didn’t you?

  “I don’t know. I was ashamed, I guess. It wasn’t my finest moment.” The muscle along his jaw flexed. The fine lines in the outer corners of his eyes dug deeper. “One in a string of many.”

  Her chest tightened. Unthinking, she reached out, cupping her hands over his.

  He turned, his eyes finding hers. “What you did—trying to convince the county I was innocent, driving back to pick me up—you shouldn’t have done it.”

  She frowned. He’d already harped on all the reasons she shouldn’t have come back to the sheriff’s department, all the ways any association with him could bring the spite of his enemies down on her head. But he was missing the point, the point he didn’t want to hear. She couldn’t have not done it. She couldn’t have left him stranded.

  “I guess all I’m saying is thanks for believing in me. It’s been a while.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Why wouldn’t I?

  One side of his mouth crooked upward. “Just thanks.”

  You’re welcome. She glanced down at her fingers twined with his. Heat flushed across her cheeks. Pulling her hands away, she gestured to the redbrick building. Well, this is my apartment, so… She let the movement of her fingers trail off, hoping he would climb out of the car before this moment became even more awkward.

  He glanced at the building then back to her. I’ll walk you to your apartment door.

  Her chest tightened further still. She needed to get away from him. The way she’d grabbed his hands without thinking proved that. She couldn’t have him hovering over her, taking care of her, protecting her from the army of threats he saw around every corner. She needed space. She needed a normal life. She needed to not feel so out of control. I’ve managed to live on my own for ten years now. Just like a normal person. I can manage one more night.

  His eyebrows shot upward. Where did that come from? I’m not saying—

  Not saying what? That a deaf girl shouldn’t be living alone? That I might not be able to handle it?

  He lowered his brows into a frown. Cassie, you’re being ridiculous. I’m not trying to coddle the deaf girl. But I’m also not leaving until you are safe inside your locked apartment. So we can sit here and sign back and forth, or you can let me walk you to the door.

  She grabbed the handle with a shaky hand and pushed the door open. He was right. She was being ridiculous. What was she afraid of? That Mike walking her to the door would make this a date? That he’d kiss her good-night?

  Or that she’d want him to?

  She thrust herself out of the car and locked the doors with a flick of her remote. When she reached the curb, Mike was waiting. He followed her into the building and up the stairs without a word.

  She led him to her apartment door and slipped her key into the lock. Letting the key chain dangle, she turned to face him. Thanks. I’m glad you were with me at Kardascian’s. Though I’m sorry it didn’t work out so well for you. She knew she was being overly formal, stiff, but she couldn’t help it. She felt that if she let her guard down for just one second, she’d brush against him, or tilt her head back for a kiss or do something else to lead him on. Something else to humiliate herself.

  It will be fine. They can’t convict me without evidence.

  She nodded. Good night, then. She stuck out her hand to shake. Her fingers trembled at the thought of touching his. God, she was lame.

  Mike clasped her hand, engulfing her fingers in his warm palm. He pulled her close, giving her a minihug with the other arm that lasted about a second.

  When he released her, she stood staring at him blankly. Her thoughts were so focused on the light contact between them she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to do next.

  I wasn’t kidding. Safe behind the locked door or I’m not leaving. He gave her a warning smile.

  Her thoughts clicked into place. Yes. Inside. Where she wouldn’t have to worry about her insecurities, Mike’s hovering, or making a fool of herself over a simple touch. I’ll see you tomorrow. She turned the key and pushed the door open.

  For a moment, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. Papers were scattered on the area rug under her baby grand piano. Kitchen cupboards and drawers hung open, their contents spilling out. And the Native American pottery she kept on the credenza of her office were strewn across the wood floor, broken into shards.

  Chapter Six

  Mike grabbed Cassie’s arm and pulled her out of the doorway. He reached for his weapon. His fingers hit air. Damn. Not a good time to be without a gun.

  Cassie’s wide eyes connected with his. Is someone inside?

  He didn’t know. And without a weapon, he had no business finding out. He flipped open his phone and punched in 9-1-1.

  “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”

  Compared to the race of his heartbeat and buzz of adrenaline in his body, the voice seemed almost unnaturally calm. “This is Detective Lawson. I have a break-in. The guy might still be here. I need officers ASAP.” He gave Cassie’s address to the dispatcher in a hushed voice, along with a few more details before he hung up.

  He looked down at Cassie. Are you okay?

  She shook her head.

  He couldn’t blame her. Her eyes were so wide, she looked as if she might be on the edge of going into shock. Not surprising after all she’d been through this morning. Now this. How many rooms?

  What?

  In your apartment. How many rooms?

  Just the great room and the loft upstairs.

  At least the floor plan was simple. Fewer places for someone to hide. In the glance he’d gotten when Cassie opened the door, he hadn’t seen anyone in the great room. If anyone was still inside, he had to be in the loft. Any other exit?

  There’s a fire escape.

  Does it reach up to the loft?

  She nodded.

  There was no way he could cover both the front entrance and the fire escape at the same time. And without a weapon…

  A crash erupted from inside the room. The sound of glass breaking.

  Flattening to the hallway wall, he inched around the edge of the door and peeked inside. If someone was coming, he wanted to know about it. He might not have a weapon, but that didn’t prevent him from throwing himself on the guy to keep him away from Cassie. Whatever he had to do.

  Cassie moved close behind him, trying to see inside herself.

  He pushed her back with one hand. The last thing he needed was for her to do something stupidly he roic. He could conjure up enough stupid heroism for both of them.

  Breath rasping in his ears, he scanned the apartment. He didn’t see any movement, any glass that could have caused the sound. Then he spotted the window.

  At first it looked as if the window itself was merely open. The blinds were pulled down and waving slightly, blown by a light breeze from outside. But as the blinds moved against the window, it tilted to the side, one side hitting glass and the other open air.

  “He went out the window.”

  Cassie nodded, stepping forward as if she planned to race into the apartment to see for herself.

  He reached out an arm to stop her. “Cassie. Stay here. Don’t move. I’m going in. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  Mike moved cautiously into the apartment. He
was pretty sure the place was empty. Almost certain. Still his gut tensed with each step across the hardwood floor, waiting for the sound of a trigger pulling, the force of a bullet slamming into his chest.

  He crossed the room. He was halfway to the window when he heard the light hiss of Cassie’s breath and shuffle of her shoes on the floor. Damn. He should have known she wouldn’t stay put. He raised a hand, warning her back.

  Her footfalls behind him slowed.

  At least he could convince her to hesitate, if not listen to him completely. He reached the window. Lifting the edge of the blind, he peered outside.

  The window was broken, just as he’d guessed. Half the pane was gone, cracks fanning out like a spiderweb spread across the rest of the glass. Shards crunched under Mike’s boots. The window had broken into the apartment. As if someone was breaking in.

  It didn’t make sense. Whoever had ripped Cassie’s place apart had spent a good long time on his handiwork. He certainly hadn’t just broken in seconds ago.

  Or had it been a mistake? Had he been sneaking out and slipped while closing the window?

  Mike leaned toward the pane. A sound reached him from outside. The pluck of footsteps on steel. He peered through the window.

  Movement stirred on the fire escape. A dark figure. Man? Woman? He couldn’t tell. The figure dropped to the sidewalk below. A streetlight glistened on dark hair.

  Mike would never catch him. But he might be able to head him off.

  He spun around. Slipping on glass shards, he almost went down before regaining his balance. He focused on Cassie, signing and saying his words at the same time. “Stay here and wait for police.” He raced past her and sprinted for the door. If he could reach the street before the burglar disappeared into a car or blended with people milling on the pedestrian mall, he might have a shot at identifying him.

  He dashed down the stairs, his feet thunking each step hard enough to send shock waves up his legs. He leaped over the last few steps and pushed out the door.

  The night outside was cool and crisp and few people dotted the sidewalks and pedestrian mall. Good. That would make finding the dark-haired burglar easier. Mike set out down the sidewalk toward the direction the burglar had been heading. As he reached the corner, he heard the apartment building’s door open behind him.