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She walked down the street, and as she turned the corner away from the store, she saw the crime scene tape left on the sidewalk from earlier in the night. This had to be where the man had died. A wave of sadness washed over her. Why hadn’t he stayed for the ambulance? If he’d just told her he needed medical help when he’d first come into the store instead of yelling about a shoe, then he might still be alive. It was just stupid.
At least Lacy came through. They’d been close in law school and stayed that way all these years later. She’d done some legal work for Remy’s grandfather too. Lacy was the first one Remy had thought of when she saw the locksmith shop’s sign. She had no doubt that Hawk was a good lawyer too. Not just because Lacy sent him, but if he ran the legal department for Drake Industries, then he had to be top notch. Everyone knew Jameson Drake by reputation. He was not the sort to hire anyone but the best. A small wave of guilt plagued her as she turned onto Seventy- Fourth Street. She’d really whoomped him one with the OED. She grinned. No better weapon than the Oxford English Dictionary. That thing was huge. Probably part of why she was so sore.
She glanced around her once again. The sidewalks were empty, and traffic was non-existent. Maybe walking hadn’t been such a good idea. With the bad luck she’d been having this week, it was probably riskier than she first thought.
Before this mess with Patterson, and she was sure the owner of the other Lock and Key was responsible for everything, she’d never been afraid to walk home on her own no matter what time of night. An old song had declared her hometown the city that never slept, and it was true. There were always people around doing their thing. New York was a relatively safe city. At least she’d always felt that way until now. She took one last sweeping glance at the sidewalk behind her and then turned onto her block.
With a bit more pep in her step, she entered her building. She hadn’t meant to hurt Hawk with the OED, but sometimes shit happened. She appreciated his help with the police, both times, but she refused to feel guilty about his injury. She’d told him he could go, that he didn’t need to help her. Although, if truth be told, she’d been damn glad he’d chosen to stay when they came face-to-face with the intruder. She didn’t need rescuing, but a little help now and then was sometimes a good thing. And when the help looked like Thane Hawkins, well, that was alright, too.
Her apartment was in the back corner of the ground floor. She paused in front of her door, her heart thudding against her sternum and her palms slick with sweat. What if someone had broken in while she was out? She held her breath and twisted the knob.Still locked. Thank God.She put in her key and opened the lock.
Her apartment was exactly as she’d left it. The small one-bedroom was tidy and cheery thanks to the red and purple throw pillows on the beige sofa cover across from the TV and the big windows overlooking the small yard that only the landlord was allowed to use at the back of the building. Her long, narrow kitchen had a window at the end that overlooked the alley, but it provided some light and she’d chosen to hang the red and purple flowered curtains that matched the sofa pillows. The galley kitchen was also open to the living room with a counter in between the two. It felt homey to her, and she liked it.
She made sure the door was locked and flicked the security bar over as well. It was the same kind of thing as they had in hotel rooms. New York City was a safe place, but the added precaution made her feel just a bit safer. After dropping her purse on the kitchen counter, she shrugged off her jacket and draped it over the back of the stool that stood beside the island. She headed to her bedroom. She desperately needed sleep. She had to be back at the store by nine a.m.
She got undressed, climbed into bed, and closed her eyes. The image of the door of the shop came into her mind. How had Hawk known there was someone inside? She’d heard him lie to the police that he’d seen the door move a bit, so he knew it was open, and he was sure she’d locked it when they’d left. But the door hadn’t moved. It fit solidly into the frame. Not even on the windiest of days did it rattle, so what the hell was he playing at? Did he have something to do with the break-in?
Don’t be silly.He was there to help her, wasn’t he?
* * *
The next morning came way too early, and Remy cursed the clock before she got out of bed. She’d hit snooze on the alarm one too many times, and now she would have to have an incredibly short shower if she was still going to have time to stop and get some breakfast from the bodega on the corner before she opened the shop.
She rushed through the shower and ended up pulling her wet hair into a bun at the top of her head. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a snowy white blouse with a gray cashmere sweater that matched her eyes. The forecast said it was going to be a cold one again today.
Twenty-five minutes later, after a quick stop for an egg and cheese roll and black coffee to go, she rocked up to the shop gates with three minutes to spare.
After lifting the security gate, she made to open the front door but stopped dead. She stuck her nose to the glass. Someone had pulled all the books off the shelves in the shop. There wasn’t a surface that hadn’t been trashed. Nothing had survived the destruction. Not one book remained in place.
Her knees buckled just as strong arms grabbed her around the waist. “Are you okay?” Hawk’s voice sounded in her ear.
“N-no,” she stammered. She pointed with her key, unable to form the words to describe the horror.
“Shit,” he murmured. “Someone broke in after you left.”
She nodded as she leaned against him. She didn’t have the strength to stand up right just yet.
He turned her slightly, so she was looking up at him. “Are you okay?” he repeated.
She nodded once and bit her lip. “I’m— I’m fine.” Her voice came out as a bit of a croak, but at least she’d been able to form the words. She leaned into him. She seemed to be unable to make her legs work on their own, and he was so solid.
“Let’s find a place for you to sit for a moment.” He kept his arm around her and guided her over to some chairs that were on the sidewalk in front of an intrepid little cafe a few doors down. Like they expected people to want to sit outside and eat in the freezing cold.
“Sit here. I’ll call the police.”
She dropped down into the chair, missing the strength and warmth of Hawk’s embrace, and put her stuff on the little cafe table. She stared at the sidewalk, unfocused as if surrounded by a dense fog. How could this happen? It was just insane. She’d just cleaned up yesterday’s disaster, and here she was all over again. Was this Patterson?
“This wasn’t random,” she said out loud.
Hawk glanced down at her. He had his cell to his ear, and he was speaking to the nine-one-one operator. A moment later he said, “No, you’re right. It wasn’t random.”
“Is this Patterson trying to intimidate me again? What does he gain by doing this??” Her hands were shaking. She flexed her fingers to get them to stop.
“Do you deal in rare books?” Hawk’s deep voice cut through her brain fog.
She nodded. “Sometimes, but not lately. That was more my grandfather’s thing. I dabble a bit here and there, but it has to be a request from a good client, and I don’t have anything in the shop that’s worth the risk of breaking in and tossing the place. Most purchases are on credit cards these days. I don’t even have more than a few hundred in cash.”
He stared at her. “And there’s nothing that comes to mind, nothing at all that would make someone want to break in?”
