“Belle—”
Her phone flew out of her hand as someone yanked on her purse strap, spinning her back around. Since it was across her body, her entire body jerked. She vaguely heard her phone clattering to the pavement.
Two arms wrapped around her from behind in a steely grip. After what had happened to her last week, a new kind of rage she’d never experienced before shot through her. Hell no. Using a move she’d learned in one of her self-defense classes, she slammed her head back and connected with something hard.
Her attacker’s arms loosened as he cried out in pain. Without pause, she swiveled and turned with a raised elbow hoping to strike the guy again. As hard as she could, she slammed her elbow into the side of his head. It was a perfect shot and the only reason she got it in was because the guy had started to bend over from her first crack to his nose.
Pain shot up her arm from the sharp blow but the guy crumpled to the ground in a heap of dirty clothes, reeking of alcohol.
She started to run back toward the hospital when she spotted two familiar men sprinting toward her from a couple parking rows away. It was Travis and Vincent, the men who’d installed her security system. What was going on?
Travis spoke first. “Are you okay?”
“My elbow is throbbing but I’m fine… What on earth are you two doing here?”
The two men shot each other a look. Vincent’s pale blue eyes against his coffee-colored skin were a sharp, beautiful contrast and the guilt shining there was palpable.
Before they could answer, she said, “Don’t you dare lie to me. What’s going on?”
When the guy on the ground started groaning and stirred, Travis sprung into action and handcuffed his wrists behind his back. “We uh, we’ve been hired to watch you,” he muttered from his kneeling position, refusing to look at her.
So she narrowed her gaze at Vincent who blanched a little.
He cleared his throat. “Grant was worried about you going back to work today so—”
“He hired you to spy on me?” And he hadn’t told her?
Travis jumped up at that. “No. He just wanted us to make sure you got home all right. That’s it.”
Belle knew she should be more focused on the guy who was likely a junkie or homeless man—or both—who had just attacked her, but he wasn’t going anywhere and her temper had just lit on fire. Her entire life she’d been coddled by her family and she actually appreciated Grant’s concern. Okay, more than appreciated it. She was damn grateful, but why all the secrecy? She wasn’t a child to be kept in the dark. “How long was this supposed to go on for?”
Vincent shifted from foot to foot, looking around the parking lot. “You should talk to Grant about that…Hey, I see security.” Before she could stop him, he was jogging toward a security guy driving a golf cart.
Her hands clenched into fists as it registered what Grant had done without telling her. Why would he keep something like that from her? She’d been able to take care of herself, but she could definitely appreciate the gesture. Just not all the secrecy.
Ignoring Travis, she searched the ground until she spotted her cell phone. By a miracle, the face of it wasn’t damaged. Since Travis had pulled out his phone and was already calling the police she texted Grant, telling him what had happened and that if he knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t meet her at the police station. She’d be home after she filled out a report and then they were definitely going to talk. She could handle over-protectiveness. The man was hardwired that way. But she couldn’t deal with lies or half-truths. Not from a man she wanted a relationship with. It would put them on unequal footing and that was never healthy. Right now she didn’t want to see him or even talk to him because she knew she’d lose her temper. Yep, letting her calm down was the best thing for both of them.
* * * * *
From the shadowed interior of his van he watched as the hospital security guy yanked the heroin addict he’d hired to attack Belle. Hire was a bit of a stretch. More like bribed with the promise of more drugs. The pretty nurse had certainly fought back, not that he’d expected any less.
Ever since his attack on her almost a week ago he’d done nothing but obsess about her, desperate for peeks of her. Originally she’d just been a means to an end. A way to target Grant Caldwell and bring the former detective back into their game. Ever since Caldwell’s accident, the detective had been holed up in his house, avoiding everyone and everything.
Toying with someone in that state of self-pity and loathing was beneath him. But now it was obvious Caldwell was back on his feet and ready to play again. Killing the neighbor had seemed the perfect way to rope him back in. He’d wanted to do more than kill her of course, but when he’d come back to scope out both their houses and seen her swimming all alone, the opportunity had been too good to pass up.
Across the parking lot she crossed her arms protectively around her waist and leaned against her car as the security guy hauled the junkie to his feet. He’d briefly contemplated taking her from the hospital but she worked in one of the most secure areas—which meant that he couldn’t take her from the inside. Belle took a step back from the junkie, scooting closer to the rear of the vehicle.
Holding him by his handcuffed wrists, the security guard guided the stumbling man to the golf cart where he forced him to sit. Then the same mohawked freak who’d shown up out of nowhere last week stood a foot from the handcuffed guy. He crossed his arms over his massive chest, making it clear that an attempt to flee would be monumentally stupid.
At least this evening hadn’t been a total loss. He’d discovered his main concern had been correct. Belle had bodyguards. It would make taking her more difficult, but not impossible.
And take her he would. He just had to wait, watch and strike when she was most vulnerable. Even though he enjoyed being so close to her without her knowledge, it was time to leave. He eased his van out of the parking spot and drove toward one of the exits like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Chapter 7
Belle tapped her finger against Carlito Duarte’s desk. She’d signed her statement and the crappy cup of coffee he’d given her wasn’t much of an incentive to stick around. But he’d politely asked her to wait a moment while he’d gone somewhere with her statement.
Luckily the crime was pretty open and shut. Some junkie had tried to rob her. Idiot probably thought she was carrying hospital drugs or something. Or maybe he’d just wanted her money. Either way, one more addict was off the streets. Temporarily at least. After the events of last week, an attempted mugging was actually something she could emotionally deal with. Not that she was glad it had happened. But it was something she could wrap her mind around. Unlike the attack from before. An unwanted chill rolled through her at the thought but she locked the memory down tight. She just wanted to get this over with and go home.
As she started to glance around again, Carlito slid into his seat. His desk was one of about twenty in what he’d earlier called a bullpen. The giant room wasn’t very impressive. Just incredibly bland. Desks, corkboards, men and women in police uniforms or suits milled around. Since she’d arrived it had gotten busier. Almost as if after dark it was expected for crime to get worse. From what she could see that was true. There had been a steady stream of officers leading people in handcuffs past her.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked quietly, concern etched on his handsome face.
She knew he was only being nice but she was tired of people asking that. She was tired of being attacked. And she was really tired of the damn fear splintering through her. Her life had turned upside down ever since she’d moved out. Not that her move had anything to do with it, but still. She just wanted everything around her to calm down. “I’m good. Just tired and ready to go home.” To see Grant. Being with him always made her feel safe and she wanted that badly tonight. Right after they talked about why he’d decided to keep her in the dark about her bodyguards.
He nodded but didn’t make a move to get up. “I understand. Listen, the guy who attacked you tonight has a record. A long one. His DNA is in the system for…well, that doesn’t matter. His DNA doesn’t match the sample we took from your attacker last Saturday.”
“I’m not surprised.” Belle would never forget the strength behind her attacker’s grip. Self-consciously she rubbed her jaw where she still sported a faded bruise from being punched. The guy who had attacked her today hadn’t been very tall and he’d been fairly weak.
Carlito shifted uneasily in his seat and another healthy dose of panic settled inside her. “The man who attacked you—Justin—claims that a man hired him to attack you.”
“What?” An icy fist clasped around her heart. That couldn’t be right. But Carlito’s expression was resolute.
The detective nodded, his face grim. “Justin’s a junkie and I’ve dealt with him more times than I’d like to admit, but that’s what he says. He’s not getting a break by admitting this and he’s still sticking to his story. I’ve got a sketch artist in with him right now, not that I think it’ll do much good, but we have to try. He needs a fix and is pretty amped up.”
Belle didn’t know what to say. Someone had been hired to attack her. A shiver snaked down her spine at the insanity of the situation. She’d worked in the maternity ward at the hospital with the same people for years—and new mothers and fathers weren’t exactly homicidal. She didn’t frequent bars or clubs and usually spent the majority of her free time with her family or her best friend. Well, until recently when she’d been hanging out with Grant. She couldn’t imagine having made an enemy that hated her so much he wanted to kill her.
“I know I asked you this last week, but is there anyone you can think of that would want to hurt you this bad?”
“No. This is…insane. I just…” Her voice caught in her throat so she shook her head, unsure how to continue.