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  Why hadn’t he seen it before? This woman wasn’t so black and white. At times, when people were scared, they said and did things that made them seem prickly—which he had no doubt she was to begin with, but there was something else about Kate Sikes that bothered Walker in a way no other woman had. For a minute, he found himself wanting to protect her.

  She glanced away and then stiffened. “You know what? I would really like to go home now.” Her tone had suddenly become frosty again, as if she had recovered from momentarily forgetting she was supposed to be a bitch. What the hell was it with women? First warm, then cold.

  “Fine, I’ll have an officer have you out of here shortly. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, your boyfriend gave his statement and was out of here an hour ago.”

  She didn’t say a word as she looked over at him, the hardness fully back in her expression. “Let’s get this straight: he’s not my boyfriend. Do I really want to know why you kept me here and had him out before me when he’s responsible for this?” She gestured to the door. Oh, was she pissed.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure it had more to do with the fact that he was more cooperative than you, and he wasn’t a pain in the ass,” Walker said, and he heard her gasp as he pulled open the door. He listened to it click closed behind him, leaving Kate locked in the interrogation room.

  ***

  Chapter 7

  Kate unlocked the door to her fifth-floor apartment. She was barefoot, carrying the overpriced shoes she was tempted to toss in the trash. At the time, she had considered them to be an investment, well worth the expense of $169, as they made her long, slender legs appear shapely and her ass a piece of art, as the shop girl had commented. She had agreed and spent the money, deciding that eating salad for a week was a worthwhile tradeoff.

  Maybe she’d reconsider—tossing the shoes, that is. But then, she had a lot to reconsider after the date she’d set so many of her hopes on, which had turned into a disaster of epic proportions. She reminded herself, after hours at the police station and then stuck in a smelly interrogation room, filling out a report, that she was hopeless at picking men. Afterward, she’d demanded to see Detective Walker Pruett, who barely looked at her statement before leaving her locked in the same stinking interrogation room, with concrete walls, one-way glass, and bars on the window.

  She tried to tell herself she wasn’t attracted to such a pompous ass, but the truth was that the only reason she’d demanded to see the arrogant redheaded, green-eyed handsome devil was that he had left an impression on her, and she couldn’t help wanting to get to know him better. Even though he spurred her blood and had her acting like a world-class bitch—which she wasn’t—he was the only one in that entire mess who had come to her rescue. Yes, that arrogant, cocky detective had picked her up from the floor not once but twice, and how had she acted toward him? Like a spoiled child.

  She pulled at the edge of Detective Pruett’s sports coat, which she was still wearing even after having been driven home by a uniformed officer who’d dropped her off at the front door and pulled away before she even opened it. Served her right. It was sobering to reflect on her behavior. She hadn’t set eyes on Detective Pruett again after he left her cooling her heels in the interview room—literally, since she had taken her shoes off after arriving at the station.

  She could have left the coat, but in the chaos of the restaurant disaster, she hadn’t thought to look for hers, and with her ruined strap, she felt half naked. She hadn’t been interested in parading through an overcrowded police station, having to hold up a strap to keep herself together. She’d been irritated—no, mad that the cop had made her come in and then wait at a desk as if she were some criminal. She had been furious, but at the same time she hadn’t been able to help noticing how the man’s green eyes against the red of his hair made him unusually striking. She’d always gone for the pretty-boy type, which Detective Pruett was so far from, but something rough and rugged about him had her wanting him more than she had any man.

  “Stop it!” she snapped at herself. Maybe Pruett was the type who expected to have his way in everything. It was in the way he talked, the way he walked. He seemed the type, a man who knew how to look after himself, not too tall but tall enough, the kind of guy whose eyes she could get lost in, the kind whose arms she knew could hold her. Of course she had noticed his hands: broad, large, capable, a working man’s hands—and no ring.

  “Jerk.” She dropped her shoes at the door and her purse on the counter and slipped off his coat, resting it over the back of her gold sectional before stripping out of her ruined dress, leaving it in a pool in the hallway. She unfastened her black strapless bra, dropped it where she was, and stepped out of her matching lace underwear, leaving a trail of clothes as she flicked on the light to her bedroom and froze. There, written in red across the wall over her bed, in block letters, were the words YOU CAN’T HAVE HIM BITCH.

  She covered her breasts with her hands and screamed, then searched for something to put on. She spied the blanket at the foot of the bed and wrapped it around herself as she raced into the kitchen and fumbled in her purse for her cellphone. Detective Pruett’s card slipped out. She’d grabbed it from his desk before being moved to one of the rooms reserved for hardened criminals. She was no longer mad—she was freaking out, looking around her apartment, taking everything in: the bookshelf, the closed curtains, the small living room with magazines and books stacked on the coffee table.

  Think, think, has anything been moved? She couldn’t remember how’d she’d left it, but the feeling of having been invaded made her back up against the fridge, listening to every creak as his phone rang. “Please pick up. Come on, Detective. Please be there.”

  She was still praying he would answer when his deep voice barked, “Pruett.”

  “Hello? This is Kate Sikes, from the police station. I got your card—I mean, I was at the restaurant…” Damn, she was rambling.

  “Kate,” he said, his voice warming. “You left with something of mine.”

  “Someone was in my apartment,” she said. “I think it was that crazy woman who drove into the restaurant.” Her voice was shaking.

  “What do you mean, someone was in your place? Are they still there?”

  “No, I don’t know. I just got home and walked into my bedroom, and written across my wall above my bed is ‘You can’t have him, bitch.’” She couldn’t believe it. She was looking over her shoulder with that creeped-out feeling she got whenever she felt as if someone was watching her.

  “Give me your address,” he snapped.

  She heard him say something to someone in the background as she rattled off the address. She gripped the blanket around herself tighter, holding it up.

  “Kate, are you there?” He was back on the line.

  “Yeah, just hanging here,” she said.

  “Get out of your apartment now,” he said. “I’ve got a unit on the way, and so am I.”

  She didn’t need him to tell her twice. She crept down the hallway, her heart hammering as she pulled open the door and raced out, holding the phone and the blanket. She started for the stairs, but her apartment door slammed shut just as someone ripped her blanket away. She screamed and turned. “Oh shit, oh no!” she cried.

  “What’s going on?” Detective Pruett yelled on the other end.

  “Oh no!” She held the phone away, staring at the blanket—it was just caught in the door—and she could hear the detective yelling, calling her name over and over as she grabbed the knob and turned. Damn door was locked!

  She heard the door across the hall unlock, and she dropped the phone, using one hand to cover her breasts and the other to cover her private parts as the door opened and Mr. Harris, her retired schoolteacher neighbor, stood in the entrance of his apartment.

  His eyes widened, and he said, “Oh my.”

  She stared at the phone, her phone, on the floor. She could hear Pruett yelling, “Kate, what the hell’s going on? Kate!” She looked up to Mr. Harris, wh
o was now holding a towel. Before he turned his head, he tossed it her way.

  ***

  Chapter 8

  Walker arrived at the apartment right behind a cruiser carrying the two uniformed officers he’d dispatched. They were first to the door, and an elderly black man with white hair opened it. He was in his pajamas, wearing a plaid red housecoat overtop.

  “She’s upstairs in my apartment, fifth floor. Door’s open,” the man said.

  The two officers started up the stairs.

  “Just so you know, I didn’t touch her.”

  That had Pruett turning to look at the man, who appeared worried.

  “Don’t know what’s going on, but when I opened my apartment door after hearing a scream, she was standing there as naked as the day she was born. I tossed her a towel and let her wait in my place. She told me the police were coming. Just wanted you to know I didn’t touch her. I came down here and waited for you.”

  Naked, what the hell? Walker shook his head, sympathizing with the man. It must have been a shock to open his door to find a naked white woman young enough to be his daughter or granddaughter. Walker pointed up the stairs. “Up there?”

  “That’s right, fifth floor. Apartment door’s open,” he said again as if Walker needed to be reminded. “If you don’t mind, I’ll wait on down here.” Boy, did the man look uncomfortable.

  “Did you see anyone go in her place?”

  The man shook his head. “No. She was rambling on about someone being inside and writing on the wall above her bed. She was pretty freaked out. I haven’t seen anyone, but I don’t pay much attention to who’s coming or going. The walls are thin. Heard her go out, but didn’t hear anything or anyone else.”

  “I’ll send one of the officers down to take your statement,” Walker said. He really did feel bad, considering he’d already experienced Kate at her finest earlier this evening. “Don’t worry, I told her to get out of her place,” he told the man. “But why naked?” he added, more to himself, as he started up the stairs and looked back down at the elderly neighbor. Considering the time of night, Walker thought he was handling the situation really well.

  He stopped at the open door and followed the officers inside. They were staring down at Kate, who had wrapped a light brown towel around herself. It didn’t hide much, but, sitting down, at least she was somewhat covered.

  “Dare I ask what happened?” Walker said, gesturing to her state of undress.

  She flushed. “I had a blanket around me when I called you, and somehow it got stuck in the door. When the door shut, I locked myself out. I can’t believe this is happening to me. First the worst date of my life—and I thought there was a possibility with that guy—and then some psycho chick drives through the restaurant, damn near kills me, and someone was in my place, wrote above my bed…”

  “Anyone there?” He knew she was going to go on and on if he didn’t shut her up.

  “I didn’t stick around to find out. That’s kind of why I’m in this position.” Now she just sounded nasty.

  “You always walk around naked?” he said. Oh, why had he asked? Just picturing her walking around her apartment without a stitch of anything on was doing all kinds of things to him and making him uncomfortable. One of the officers smirked but didn’t say anything.

  She gave him a scathing look, but all she said was “Are you going to go find out who did it and if they’re still here?”

  He couldn’t help smiling at the firecracker sitting on the old leather sofa, but he was also pretty sure whoever had been in her apartment was long gone. “You got a key?” he said. He didn’t know what had made him ask, but the look she gave him made it all worth it. What was it about her that made him want to go a round or two? She was the kind of woman that burned with passion and fire. There were some he looked forward to sparring with, to getting a rise out of. He imagined the makeup sex would be worth the frustration he was sure that woman could put a man through.

  “You really think I would be sitting here in this predicament if I had my key?” She was about to stand up, he could tell, but then thought better of it.

  He chuckled under his breath and left one of the uniformed cops with her. The first thing he noticed when he stepped out of the apartment was her cell phone on the floor and a cream-colored blanket caught in the door. Walker took less than a minute to open it. He pulled his Glock from his holster and pushed the door open. The lights were on as he stepped in, one of the officers behind him. The first thing he noticed was the red dress, black bra, and underwear on the floor. Otherwise, her apartment was reasonably neat.

  “You check the living room,” he said to the cop behind him. He opened one closet door and then the bathroom, flicking on the light, but he saw nothing. When he went into the bedroom, he saw the writing on the wall above the bed. Creepy, it was. He checked the bedroom closet, jam packed with clothes, before walking over to the bold lettering. Upon looking close, he was positive whoever wrote it had used the tube of red lipstick that was sitting on the edge of the nightstand. YOU CAN’T HAVE HIM BITCH.

  “All clear out here,” one of the officers said, the one who’d driven Kate home earlier. “Whoever was here isn’t now. Holy shit, look at that. Someone doesn’t like her. Do you think it’s her pleasing personality?”

  “You know what? That girl across the hall may be a pain in the ass, but she’s scared, and I’m pretty sure that’s her way of putting on a tough face.” Walker was convinced most of Kate’s snarky attitude was her way of protecting herself. Maybe she had been put in that position one too many times.

  “Sorry,” the officer said.

  Walker glanced his way and then moved past him and out of the room. “Seal it off. Let’s get crime scene techs down here to dust for prints and find out who did this.” He started out into the hallway before spying his jacket draped over the back of the sofa. He reached for it and then left the apartment, picking up the blanket on the floor.

  The elderly man was just now coming up the stairs. “Everything okay?” he said. “Was someone bothering that girl?” He sounded concerned and far more understanding than Walker would have been, considering the circumstances.

  “You sure you didn’t see or hear anything tonight?”

  The man stopped on the stairs and stared over to her door, then his. “Like I said, walls are thin. Heard nothing except when she left. Can’t believe someone could get in there without me hearing.”

  “Well, tell me about Kate. Any problems with her, anything unusual?”

  The man was frowning. “Kate is quiet. Goes to work, comes home—sometimes plays that noisy rock stuff she listens to a little too loud, but she’s a good kid. I’ve been a teacher a lot of years and would like to say I’ve seen it all, but tonight…” He actually laughed. “I hadn’t.”

  The situation was far from funny, but Walker couldn’t help himself from laughing along with the man. He was right. It had to have been a hell of a shock to open his door to a naked woman.

  When Walker walked back into the neighbor’s small apartment, almost identical in setup to Kate’s, she appeared anxious as she searched him out.

  “Well, anyone there?” she said.

  He tossed her the blanket she’d dropped. “No, long gone.”

  “Great, so now what? What about the psycho chick who drove into the restaurant, can you arrest her?”

  “No.”

  Obviously that wasn’t what she wanted to hear, as she stood up so fast her towel slipped.

  “Whoa!” one of the cops said as Walker caught a glimpse of her creamy white breast. It was even better than he’d pictured.

  Walker took the blanket he was holding and wrapped it around her. “Here, before you lose what’s left of that towel and give someone a heart attack.”

  “Well, I need to know why you can’t arrest her,” she snapped. “It’s plain as day to me that Ryder’s stalker did this. I mean, who else would do it? And how did she find out about me, anyway?”

  “We
ll, that’s a hell of a good question, considering you met this guy for the first time tonight. How many dates have you been on as of late? Could be any one of them with a possessive, jealous girlfriend. Or is there someone else, a married guy?” he asked.

  “There is no one else—and I don’t date married men!”

  “Who did you last date? Let’s start there.”

  She waved her hand and almost lost hold of the blanket.

  “Just do us both a favor and keep your hands where they are,” Walker said, interrupting her before she could start.

  “What about that suit who came around a few times?” the elderly neighbor said from the doorway. They both turned toward him. Even the uniformed officer standing off to the side looked his way.

  “What suit?” Walker asked, looking back at Kate.

  She rolled her eyes again, and he was wondering if that was her way of trying to piss people off. Normally, when a woman did that, he found it annoying, but Kate was giving him ideas that could have gotten him arrested—namely the idea of having his hands on her and having her under him, naked, begging and pleading to let her come as he rammed into her over and over. She was trouble with a capital T, but he couldn’t help but picture what his handprint on her creamy white backside would look like.

  “Kate,” he growled when she didn’t answer.

  “Todd Gray, a stockbroker. Thought he had possibility, but I discovered he had mother issues. I dumped him, haven’t seen him since. Can’t imagine a woman getting twisted up over the likes of him. He couldn’t make a decision if his life depended on it. Had to consult his mother on everything.” She shrugged. “Really, if a chick wants him, she can have him.”

  “Well, let’s not rule him out.” Walker turned to one of the officers and asked him to look into the guy. When Kate rattled off his number, he had to give her another look.

  She shrugged again. “I have a great memory, good with numbers. I see it once, I don’t forget.” She glanced down at herself. “Look, I’d like to get some clothes on.”