Meet Me at Midnight. Jessica Andersen

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СКАЧАТЬ tight, he checked the kitchen closet and glanced out into the alley. There was no sign of the intruder. There was also no sign of chestnut hair and feminine curves. Where the hell was she?

      Refusing to consider the worst-case scenario until he’d thoroughly searched the place, he worked his way back through the kitchen and further into the small apartment.

      Three more doors opened off the narrow hallway. The first led to a closet; the second opened into a sitting room.

      The desk was in shambles, and an expensive-looking computer and an array of electronics lay in the corner, smashed to pieces. Oddly, though, the TV and the high-tech sound system appeared untouched.

      This wasn’t a burglary, then. But what exactly was it?

      And why?

      Though the timing seemed coincidental—there was that word again, coincidence—Ty shoved his gathering suspicions aside and focused on the priority, which was finding Gabby and making sure she was okay.

      Tension hummed through him as he eased toward the last of the three doorways. He flashed back on the moment after the blackout, when the emergency lights had come up at the John Hancock building to reveal a party in shambles, the president and vice president missing. Though President Stack had been found nearby, drugged and confused, VP Davis had not.

      Had Gabby been taken hostage, as well?

      There’ll be hell to pay if she has, he thought out of nowhere, as he eased through the last door into her bedroom.

      There he hesitated for a half second before letting the flashlight beam play over her bed. Unlike the other rooms, which he noted, were devoid of color this room was vibrant. The king-size bed had a fluffy duvet draped with a woven afghan in the deepest of jade greens, and pillows of every shape and size formed a drift against the plush, padded headboard, all in vibrant jewel tones visible even in the wan illumination.

      It was, he realized, as unexpected heat burned through his veins, almost exactly as he’d imagined it during their online “dates.” He let his gun hand sag—

      And the moment of hesitation nearly cost him everything.

      A blur came at Ty from the side. He turned and ducked in a single motion, and the blow glanced off his shoulder. His attacker cursed and kicked out, sending Ty’s gun and flashlight spinning away.

      The light smashed into the wall, plunging them into darkness. The gun clattered somewhere off to their left, momentarily lost.

      Ty lunged for the other man and they went down on the floor beside Gabby’s bed. “Where is she?” he grated, landing a gut punch that had the other guy wheezing. “Where is Grant Davis? If you’ve hurt either of them, I’ll kill you.”

      A blow caught Ty at the temple. His head snapped back, and he saw stars where there weren’t any. Fury spiked. Roaring, he grabbed for the bastard, got a fistful of his shirt and punched him hard in the face. The impact bruised his knuckles and sang up his arm.

      “You want to get back to basics?” he grated. “How’s this for basic?” He landed a second punch and thought he felt bone give.

      The other man went limp. An atavistic thrill ran through Ty, a surge of victory, of rage. He shifted his grip and reached for the handcuffs he wore on his belt.

      With a roar, his opponent exploded into action beneath him, reversing their position and driving his fist into Ty’s jaw.

      He saw stars again.

      Then blackness.

      BREATH SOBBING in her lungs, Gabby tugged at the bars on her bathroom window. When she’d first rented the place, she’d considered them a necessary security measure.

      Now they were a trap.

      She heard another crash in the bedroom, followed by a pained shout from a second man. She thought it was Ty’s voice, but how could she be sure? She’d barely met him.

      “Come on,” she hissed, and yanked at the unyielding bars again, knowing it was futile but unable to make herself stop trying. “Come on!”

      Behind her, beyond the bathroom door, the fighting sounds abruptly cut off.

      Gabby froze. She strained to hear what was happening out there, needing to know who’d won.

      She heard only silence, followed by the sound of footsteps in the bedroom.

      Ty would’ve called her name, right? He would’ve said something to let her know he was okay.

      Unless he wasn’t okay.

      No, Gabby thought as the footsteps paused and she heard the sound of her closet door opening and clothes hangers being slid aside on their metal bar. Oh, no. Her fingers fell away from the window grate and her throat clenched until only a trickle of oxygen got through.

      The footsteps resumed, drawing nearer.

      A weapon. She needed a weapon.

      Nearly wheezing with fear, she groped near the wall until her fingers found a smooth plastic shaft, like a length of pipe. She closed her fingers and tested its weight, then decided it would have to do.

      A click of metal on metal signaled the turn of the bathroom knob. Gabby braced herself and raised her weapon.

      The door opened. She screamed as loud as she could, and attacked. She lunged toward the sound and swung, yelling, “Get out of my house, you bastard!”

      Her first blow missed the intruder and slammed into the wall. The impact sang up her arms and numbed her fingertips, but she couldn’t stop now. When she heard a rustle of cloth and felt motion nearby, she yelled again and swung.

      This time she connected with flesh. She felt the blow land, heard a man curse.

      Then he grabbed her, banding one strong arm around her torso and clapping the other across her mouth. “Shh! Quiet. Knock it off!”

      She swung and connected with the back of his head. He swore and shook her. “What is wrong with you? Can’t you see—” Then he broke off. “It’s Ty, Gabby. It’s Ty. You’re okay.”

      He repeated the reassurance a few more times, but she’d already stopped struggling, letting herself go limp in his grasp as his words played through her mind. Can’t you see?

      No, I can’t, damn it. Anger spurted—at him, at whoever had broken into her house, her sanctuary. But beneath the heat of rage was another warmth—the feeling of being held in a man’s arms. In Ty’s arms.

      That last thought shouldn’t have mattered. He’d lied to her, damn it. He’d used her emotions to pursue a lead. It hadn’t been about romance for him. It’d been the job.

      Trouble was, her body didn’t seem to care.

      “Shh,” he whispered against her temple, his breath ruffling her hair. “I think he’s gone, but I’m not positive. I needed to make sure you were okay before I went after him.”

      They were pressed back to front, with СКАЧАТЬ