Duty To Protect. Beth Cornelison
distraction. A police car cruised slowly through the parking lot. The cop’s presence reminded her why Riley was with her, why the extra patrols were needed.
She’d been attacked last night. She could have died.
A shudder shimmied through her, and she backed away from Riley’s arms.
“Ginny?” He narrowed a concerned gaze on her.
She nodded toward the parking lot. “We have company.”
“What?” Riley turned and looked out over the cars. When he spotted the cruiser, he gave the officer a little wave. “Why don’t we get you inside now, where we can have a little privacy?”
“Privacy? You forget…my mom is on her way. She has to see for herself that I’ve gotten home safely and have locked my door.”
“You’re lucky to have a mother who cares so much.” A spark lit Riley’s gray eyes as he tucked her into his embrace.
“I guess. So does your mom make a big fuss over you, too, worrying and nagging?”
The light in Riley’s eyes faded as he helped her up the steps to her third floor apartment. Though he forced a grin, Ginny noticed the change in his demeanor, felt his muscles tense.
“Yeah, my mom worries…but I…don’t see her much.”
“Why not?”
He hesitated. “She lives out by Lagniappe Lake.”
“The lake is only about thirty minutes outside town.” At her door, Ginny fumbled in her purse with her left hand, searching for her keys.
He shrugged and shifted his weight. “We, uh…just get busy. Time passes. I’ll see her at Thanksgiving.” He extended a hand toward Ginny’s purse. “Need help?”
She sent him a pointed look and smiled. “No, thank you. I’ve got it.” She dangled the keys from her left hand to prove her point, then jabbed at the keyhole.
And missed. But her poor aim was more a factor of the scrapes and small gouges beside her doorknob than left-handed awkwardness. The damage to her door was new. And distinctive.
Someone had been trying to break into her apartment. And she’d bet a week’s pay that someone had red hair and a history of spousal abuse. Walt Compton had been here. Could still be here.
Which begged the question, what if Riley hadn’t been with her?
Ginny shuddered. Maybe having him stay in her apartment was a good idea after all….
Chapter 4
While Riley returned to the parking lot to report her damaged door to the policeman on guard duty, Ginny started putting away the few toiletries she’d brought home from the hospital. Having her right arm in a cast was going to be a royal pain, especially if she wanted to prove to others she didn’t need a babysitter. She’d managed alone for too long to start depending on anyone else now.
Her orange and white, diabetic tabby, Zachary, hopped up on the bathroom counter and rubbed against her arm in greeting. “Hey, fella. How’s my boy? Did anyone remember to feed you and give you a shot this morning?”
Zach meowed and pawed at the faucet. When Ginny turned on the cool water, the cat ducked his head and started lapping at the trickle.
“Spoiled.” Smiling, Ginny stroked her cat’s back, but despite the familiar routine, her heart still raced from the shock of finding someone had tampered with her door. She took a few deep breaths and mentally reviewed the advice she gave her clients.
Fear is a tool used to control you. Take back control of your situation. Stay calm so you can think clearly.
Ginny blew her bangs out of her eyes. She had a new appreciation for the stress her clients dealt with.
Time to practice what she preached.
Your strength and healing will come from within yourself, not by looking to others.
A sharp rap sounded on her front door, and Ginny’s adrenaline spiked. Clapping a hand over her scampering heart, she hurried to the living room. “Riley?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
Ginny unhooked the chain guard and dead bolt, then looked through the peephole, just in case, before she opened her door.
“So what did the officer say?” she asked him as he strode into her living room, his rough-hewn masculinity in stark contrast to the feminine decor of her apartment.
“He’s calling it in, getting a crime scene team to come out. He’s checking the grounds now, but he’ll be here in a minute to take your statement.”
“Another statement.” She sighed and dropped onto her gingham-covered couch. “I don’t know what else I could possibly tell them. My shoe size, maybe?”
Riley gave her a sympathetic grin and shrugged.
She took a cleansing breath. “Look, I was just about to fix some lunch,” she lied. The idea of food turned her stomach, but making lunch would give her something to do, might serve as a distraction from her fruitless worrying. “Do you want a sandwich?”
He nodded. “Sure. I’ll help.”
But as she headed toward her kitchen, her doorbell heralded the arrival of the officer from the parking lot and the crime scene crew. For the next ninety minutes, she was busy repeating everything that had happened over the past thirty-six hours. She cringed as the technicians dusted for prints, and a fine coating of the powder settled on her carpet, her furniture. She’d be forever cleaning the reminder of the would-be intruder out of her apartment.
Through it all, she was hyperaware of Riley’s presence. He stood back, giving the investigators room to work, but his imposing height and wide shoulders were always in the periphery of her vision, in her thoughts. His presence filled her with a reassurance she couldn’t explain. Maybe because he’d already saved her life once.
As the officer finished his questions, Riley sat next to Ginny on the couch and took her left hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently. “You doin’ okay?”
“Yeah, just tired.” She lifted her eyes to meet his, and a corner of his sexy mouth tipped up.
When I revived you, you missed the whole your-lips-on-mine thing.
Two hours earlier, she’d kissed those lips, been swept away by their hypnotic lure. The memory sent a renewed shimmy of heat curling through her veins, chasing out a fraction of the chill that lingered, given that Walt Compton was most likely the person who’d tried to break into her apartment.
But physical chemistry was no substitute for knowing what made a man tick, knowing who he was beneath the stunning smile and wide chest. Although having Riley near was comforting, Ginny reminded herself that his presence was temporary, and she needed to rely on her own strengths and coping mechanisms after today. She had to get back to her normal routine, back to work. People were counting on her.
“I need to check on Annie,” she thought aloud. “If Walt has been this determined to come after me, what has he done about finding her? She’s in more danger than I am.”
“You just got home from the hospital.” Riley frowned. “You’ve had problems of your own to deal with. I’m sure the other ladies that work at the women’s center have taken good care of Annie. Right now, you need to rest.”
“The other women from the center have their hands full relocating our offices after the fire and dealing with their own clients’ needs.” Ginny pushed herself off the sofa and scanned the living room, looking for her cordless phone. “Annie is my responsibility, no matter who picked up my slack after the fire. I won’t be able to rest until I know she and her kids are safe.”
Spotting the receiver on the side table by her reading chair, Ginny stepped over Riley’s long legs