Don't Let Go Page 5

  Zoe smiled when she saw him. “Ready for lunch?”

  “More than. Have you eaten yet?”

  She shook her head.

  Nate laid his hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “Everything is under control. Eat while you have a chance before Simon’s next class.”

  “No offense, Nate, but I can’t stomach eating spaghetti today.”

  “I have something else that I think will settle better. Go sit with Simon. I’ll bring your lunch in a few minutes.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble. I feel guilty enough as it is leaving you to handle the lunch crowd and clean up by yourself.”

  “It’s not a problem. Don’t worry about the cleanup. Meredith, my assistant, is free until the second afternoon session. We have it covered.”

  Simon grabbed a plate and filled the white surface with the noodles and meat sauce. After picking up the bundled utensils and napkin, he escorted Zoe to the table occupied by his teammates. He seated her, then poured himself a glass of iced tea and returned to the table where she waited.

  Soon, Nate set a plate in front of Zoe along with utensils and a large mug of hot tea. “Chicken pot pie. Comfort food that should settle well.”

  “Thanks, Nate. This smells fabulous.”

  An hour later, Zoe walked with Simon to his classroom. Trainees streamed inside and Simon demonstrated the first sequence of moves with a volunteer from the class.

  After pairing up the students, Simon walked the perimeter of the room until he was sure the trainees had a handle on the routine. He called a halt to the practice session and asked for another volunteer to demonstrate the second sequence.

  A trainee stepped forward, one of Lyons’ friends. Simon motioned for Moran to join him in the center of the room. Although suspicious of the trainee’s motives, Simon began the demonstration, giving detailed explanations of the moves and countermoves. Nearing the end, he started to step back when Moran threw a roundhouse punch at Simon’s face.

  Simon heard Zoe gasp as he blocked the punch and plowed his fist into Moran’s gut. The trainee dropped to his knees, wheezing as he dragged in air and absorbed the pain from Simon’s blow.

  Simon glanced at the other trainees watching the exchange in stunned silence. “Work with your partner on this sequence. In ten minutes, you switch partners and go through the exercise again. Hollister.”

  The second of Lyons’ friends stepped forward, wariness in his eyes. “Sir?”

  “Come here. The rest of you get busy.”

  The occupants of the room that had been frozen into immobility at the sudden aggression from Moran shifted into groups and started practicing on each other.

  Hollister, a big bruiser with a buzz cut and a scar over his left eyebrow, lumbered forward, jaw hardened and tight. “Yes, sir?” he practically spat out when he stood in front of Simon.

  “You plan to take a swing at me, too?” Simon could see the temptation in the depths of the trainee’s eyes. Hollister remained silent. Maybe he had more sense than his buddy. Simon wasn’t holding his breath, though. After all, Hollister was close friends with Lyons and called his judgment into question.

  “You want to come after me, take your best shot. If you and your friends go after Zoe, it will be the last thing any of you do.”

  “We heard what Isaac said. Your girlfriend killed Macy.”

  “He isn’t rational at present. Zoe didn’t hurt Macy or ask someone to do it for her. I found Zoe unconscious. And, no, I didn’t do the wet work myself. If I had, Macy would have been dead at the scene and Zoe wouldn’t be injured. I’d sooner cut off my own arm than harm her. You and Moran should do yourselves a favor. Find a better friend than Lyons.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hollister snapped.

  Yeah, that was a waste of air. “One final warning. If you or Moran come after me again, you’ll be out of PSI so fast, your head will spin and you won’t have a second chance to enroll.”

  Moran staggered to his feet, arms still clutched over his gut. “Understood, sir. I apologize for my lack of control. It won’t happen again.”

  Hollister slid a withering look at his friend but remained stubbornly silent.

  “Pair up and practice the routine.”

  The two men moved to the other side of the room and went through the exercise. Moran threw himself into the practice session while Hollister slopped through the routine, casting sullen glances Simon’s direction.

  Five minutes later, Hollister spun on his heel and stalked from the room, leaving Moran standing with a scowl on his face.

  Simon dragged a hand down his face, then called out, “Change partners and go through the exercise again. Moran, you’re with me.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Moran had nailed the routine. “Good job,” Simon said, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

  “Thank you, sir. Again, I apologize for the cheap shot.”

  “What’s Hollister’s deal?”

  “He and Isaac are from the same town. They’ve been best friends since kindergarten. If Isaac said he hung the moon, Chris would believe him.”

  “Find a new friend group, Moran. Unless I see a huge turnaround, Lyons and Hollister won’t last much longer at PSI. Don’t let them take you down, too.”

  After calling a halt to the practice session, Simon dismissed the class. He crouched beside Zoe. “The last class starts in fifteen minutes. You need a break or another soft drink?”

  She gently waggled the green bottle in her hand. Clear liquid sloshed inside. “I have enough to get through the class.”

  “What did you think?”

  “Watching you gives me a whole new appreciation for what you and your teammates do here. You’re a good teacher, Simon.”

  His cheeks burned at her compliment. “Thanks. Do you have questions about what you observed?”

  Zoe watched him a moment before cupping his cheek. “Do you often have trainees attack you?”

  “Not if they plan to complete the training. Lyons and his buddies have burned their only reprieve. If it happens again, they’ll be out.”

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Trust me.” He leaned over and brushed his lips over hers. “This is what I’m trained for.”

  She smiled against his mouth. “Kissing?”

  Simon chuckled and stood before he gave in to the temptation to indulge in a longer, deeper kiss. “I need to damp mop the floor before the next class arrives.”

  “I can help.” Zoe followed him to the supply closet.

  He handed her a damp mop, then grabbed a second one for himself. Between the two of them, they cleaned the floor in five minutes.

  Simon glanced at his watch. He had enough time to coax another kiss or two from the woman of his dreams before the last batch of trainees arrived. Just as he was reaching for her, his phone rang.

  He checked the screen and placed the call on speaker. “You’re on speaker with Zoe.”

  “How are you, Zoe?”

  “I’m okay, thanks to Simon. Do you need something, Nick?”

  “When are you and Simon free this afternoon?”

  She looked at him, eyebrows raised.

  “Two hours,” Simon said. “Why?”

  “Bring Zoe to Macy’s house.”

  His hand tightened around the cell phone. “What’s going on?”

  “Someone broke into Macy’s home.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Zoe’s grip on Simon’s hand tightened as he drove closer to Macy’s two-bedroom bungalow. Who would break into her friend’s house? Was it a thief who learned Macy was dead and sought to take advantage of the empty house?

  What was Nick looking for at the house? Macy was killed at work, not at her home.

  An invisible band tightened around her chest at the remembered horror of the small bathroom. Blood everywhere, the copper tang filling the air and choking Zoe as she stood inside the space.

  She’d have to remodel the bathroom. She wouldn’t be able to step foot in there after wh
at she’d seen. Zoe needed to call Mason Kincaid with Elliott Construction. He was a master carpenter and worked on house rehabs all over Otter Creek and Dunlap County. If she bribed him with free coffee and baked goods for a year, maybe he’d move her to the top of his busy work schedule. He’d have to set aside the flea market dresser he was stripping and staining for her to revamp a bathroom filled with nightmare memories.

  She shuddered. Before the remodel, the bathroom would have to be cleaned with a ton of disinfectant and an ample supply of rubber gloves. The prospect of facing that task made bile rise into her throat.

  Zoe clamped a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t barf in Simon’s SUV.

  “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” he asked. When she nodded, Simon pulled off the road and parked behind a grove of trees. He turned off the engine and hurried to her door.

  Zoe unlocked the seatbelt and threw it aside as he opened the door. Simon plucked her from the seat and carried her a few feet deeper into the tree cover.

  As soon as her feet touched the ground, she lost her battle with the nausea. Zoe doubled over and retched repeatedly until her gut felt hollowed out.

  By the time her stomach was empty, tears streamed down Zoe’s face. The whole time she threw up, Simon held her hair back with one hand and supported her with an arm across her collar bone.

  He nudged her back against a tree. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Simon returned a minute later with a full soft drink bottle. He broke the seal and handed her the drink. “Sip this.”

  She did as he suggested and sank into his embrace when Simon eased her against his chest. “Sorry. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Don’t apologize, Zoe. I’m surprised you held on this long.”

  “You expected me to barf?”

  “I puke every time I have a concussion.”

  She frowned. “Have you had many?”

  “Enough to know they aren’t pleasant.”

  “Understatement.”

  “Do you feel better?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. We should get going. Nick must be wondering where we are.”

  They arrived at Macy’s house fifteen minutes later. Two Otter Creek police SUVs were parked in front of the small house.

  The sight sent a sharp spear of pain into Zoe’s heart. This was so wrong. Macy should be inside, getting ready for another backyard barbecue instead of lying in the morgue.

  Simon laced his fingers with Zoe’s and led her to the front door which stood ajar. He nudged it opened with an elbow to the center panel. “Nick?” he called out.

  “In the kitchen. Come on back but don’t touch anything.”

  Zoe followed Simon into the interior of the living room, her gaze firing around the neat area. She frowned. “I don’t see anything amiss.”

  “Nick must have a reason for believing there was a break-in.” He led her toward the murmured voices coming from the back of the house.

  A moment later, they walked into the kitchen to see Nick and his fellow detective, Stella Armstrong, checking surfaces for fingerprints.

  Zoe felt a breeze brushing against her skin and her gaze zeroed in on the French door standing open with a broken window pane beside the knob.

  “Thanks for coming.” Stella looked up from her work. “Nick and I need you to look around the house and tell us if you notice anything missing.” She smiled. “No touching. We’ve collected carpet fibers so you don’t have to watch where you step.”

  “Stella, go with her,” Nick said. “Simon, stay with me. I have questions for you.”

  Simon dropped a quick kiss on Zoe’s mouth and turned to stare at Stella.

  The detective rolled her eyes but gave a short nod before setting aside the brush she’d been using to dust with fingerprint powder. “Let’s take a tour, Zoe. Tell me if you notice anything missing or out of place.”

  Zoe held back her curiosity until she and Stella were out of earshot, then asked, “What was that look about?”

  “A not-so-subtle order to keep you safe. The members of Durango and Bravo are an overprotective bunch. If you’re involved with Simon, be prepared for a man who treats you like a treasure to be protected at all costs.” She slid a glance Zoe’s direction. “Looks like my warning is too late, though.”

  “Any words of advice?”

  They stopped outside the bathroom and Stella turned toward her. “They’re tough, fierce men with hearts of gold. When they fall in love, they fall hard. Loving them isn’t a cakewalk. You have to take the good with the bad and accept the secrecy that’s inherent in their jobs. They take risks no one else would take to save innocent lives. They’re worth every minute of worry and loneliness during those long night hours when the team is deployed.”

  “Do you regret taking a chance with Nate?”

  “Never.” Stella’s response was immediate. “I adore that man. He’s my heart.”

  Longing tugged Zoe, a longing for Simon. Would he one day look at her the way Nate looked at Stella? “Simon had to pull over to the side of the road on the way here so I could throw up.”

  The detective’s eyebrows snapped up. “And he didn’t run for the hills?”

  Zoe shook her head. “He was surprised I hadn’t been sick before then.”

  “That settles it. Simon Murray is a keeper. A man not totally committed to you would have bailed at that point.”

  Walking into the bathroom, Zoe mentally refocused. No point in obsessing over Simon when they hadn’t been on a date yet. She already knew Simon was a keeper, multiple secrets or not. The question she wanted answered was whether or not he saw her as a keeper.

  A glance through the bathroom cabinets and linen closet didn’t reveal anything missing or out of place. She and Stella shifted their search to the guest room where they found nothing amiss aside from the dresser being in a slightly different position and the drawers not fully closed. Odd since Macy was obsessive about orderliness, but not alarming. Her friend might have been looking for something in a hurry and neglected to close the drawers.

  Zoe choked back tears when they reached Macy’s bedroom. The idea of her friend never coming back to the sweet room they had painted a soft gray two months ago was almost more than she could bear.

  She forced herself to examine the room and compare it to the most recent visit to this part of the bungalow. Nothing new or different except the dresser drawers were slightly open in here, too. Perhaps Macy had been looking for something. Other than that, the room appeared as it had the last time she’d been here for a barbecue two weeks ago.

  “I’m sorry to make you do this,” Stella murmured. “I know it’s painful.”

  “If I can help, I want to try.” She wiped away a tear that had escaped. “I don’t see anything wrong, Stella. This isn’t a random burglar wanting to steal jewelry or electronics for a quick buck, is it?”

  “Thanks for coming out.”

  “Can’t say anything, huh?”

  “That’s the nature of the job.” She tossed another glance at Zoe. “I’ll say one more thing about our earlier discussion. Men like Nate and Simon don’t think anything about providing what their partners need and don’t expect to have their care reciprocated. Don’t accept care from Simon without giving it back. He would take a bullet for you without a second thought. If you don’t feel the same way about him, back out of the relationship soon.” She grinned, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Other than that, I’ll just say have fun. Simon’s a great guy. Nate thinks highly of him.”

  High praise, indeed. “I won’t forget. Thanks, Stella.”

  The women returned to the kitchen where Simon leaned one shoulder against the wall, watching Nick dusting for prints. The operative’s gaze focused on Zoe. His eyes narrowed as he straightened. “Everything okay?”

  “I didn’t find anything missing or out of place except for the dressers in the bedrooms. It looks like Macy went through the drawers in search of something.”

  Nick glanced up. “Macy or the perp?�
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  Goosebumps surged up Zoe’s spine. She moved closer to Simon. Even with two cops in the room, she felt safer with Simon at her side. Was it possible the person who broke in had searched the dressers in the bedrooms?

  It was more than possible. A search by an invader was probable. No matter how rushed she was, Zoe didn’t remember Macy ever leaving something undone, even a task as simple as closing a cabinet door.

  Simon frowned. “If the perp pawed through Macy’s belongings, what was he looking for?”

  “Believe it or not, bedroom drawers are popular places to hide jewelry and money.”

  “Not Macy,” Zoe insisted. “She was low maintenance. The only jewelry she owned was her grandmother’s emerald ring. Macy never took it off.”

  “Did she hide money around the house?” Stella asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What about at your shop? Do you hide money there?”

  “Not a chance. Either Macy or I deposited the cash earned each day into the night deposit at the bank. I’ve always been concerned that a thief would see my bakery as a soft target. I only leave enough cash in the floor safe every night to make change the next morning when we open the doors.”

  Simon scowled. “If the perp isn’t looking for cash or jewelry, what is he looking for?”

  “Something he’s willing to kill to find.” Zoe felt sick at the thought. Stella’s earlier words reverberated in her mind. If this person was willing to kill to get what he was after, that meant Simon was in the line of fire.

  As if he’d heard her thoughts skittering in her mind, Simon closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Zoe. “He won’t touch you, Zoe. You have my word on that.”

  But at what cost? Zoe wrapped her arms around Simon’s waist. She wanted this nightmare to end. What she couldn’t handle was the likelihood of her friends and neighbors being at risk. To save them, she’d give a lot. Sacrificing Simon wasn’t a price she was willing to pay and she wouldn’t allow anyone else to sacrifice him, either.