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She hated him, yes, no doubt.
But she’d also never stopped wanting him.And maybe that just made her hate him all the more.Lark dug her key out of her bag.She shoved it in the lock.
“That damn thing won’t stop anyone who wants inside.”
Like she didn’t know that.Lark twisted the knob and darted over the threshold.Automatically, her fingers flipped the light switch.She’d only been there a few days, and an alarm systemwouldbe installed soon.She’d already scheduled the installation.Along with the installation of new locks.But she didn’t tell him that.At this point, she was done explaining.Too dead tired.“Thanks for seeing me to the door.I’m safe.Good night.”
She started to slam the door shut.
His hand flew up and caught the door.“What.The.Hell?”Fury hardened every word.
“What are you doing?”Lark pushed harder on the door in an attempt to try and shut it.But he just pushed back.“Oliver!”
“Behind you,” he gritted out.
She let go of the door.Whirled around.And saw the garish spray paint above her couch.You will die, too.
Her shoulders sagged.“Wonderful.”
“That’s not fucking wonderful.That’s a death threat.”
Her lower lip trembled.“It just means people know where I am.I’ve gotten lots of spray-painted messages since Lane’s arrest.Some are quite…creative.”If you think threats of violence are creative.
His hands locked on her shoulders, and he whirled her to face him.“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Do you really have to ask that question?”A sad shake of her head.“I reported the incidents to the cops.Their response was basically for me to move.I did.But people hate me.They hate my brother, they think I was probably involved somehow, and this shit just keeps happening no matter where I go.”She swallowed.“No worries, I can get the paint off.Gotten pretty good at doing that very thing.”But not tonight.She’d scrub tomorrow.
“You’re not touching it.I’m getting a crime scene team here.This is breaking and entering.That’s adeath threat.For all we know, the same fucker who was in your car left the note.”
Doubtful.“A woman in her early fifties left one of the first messages.She spray-painted ‘Bitch killer’on the outside of my house.And the first time eggs slammed into my front door, they came from a neighbor.Tim Holloway.Thought he was a nice guy.Turns out, he didn’t want me staying in the neighborhood.”
“Come with me.But don’t touch anything.”
That was a flat order, and she just followed along because…why not?If he wanted to investigate, then, by all means, the Fed could investigate.He darted down the small hallway.She trudged along with him.Then he turned into her bedroom.
The window was still open.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
Yep.
“You’re coming home with me.”
She shook her—
“That wasn’t a question.This is a crime scene.I don’t care who threw shit before—actually, I do care.All of that pisses me the hell off.Butmyteam is investigating this.Two attacks in one night?They could be linked.It’s notsafehere.And you are coming home with me.”
She opened her mouth.
“Argue and I’ll just cuff you to me.This shit isn’t up for debate.You are getting protection, whether you want it or not.”
***
He’d searched to make sure the perp wasn’t still in that piss-poor excuse for an apartment.But the place had been empty.A cop had arrived to secure the scene, and the crime scene crew Oliver ordered had promised to report to him with their findings.
You will die, too.
The words had burned into his mind, and by the time Oliver arrived at his rental house, rage pulsed in every cell of his body.It wouldn’t be too long until the freaking sun was up.Lark had to be completely exhausted.Soul weary.As for him, all he wanted to do was find the person after Lark…
