Make Me Believe: Unbelievable, Book 3 (9 page)

No, it was nothing like what she’d had with other men, not even her husbands, and she’d been married to them for years. But she couldn’t say that out loud, couldn’t bear what it meant. Mason’s expression was a mixture of determination, desperation, and pain. It was the pain that stabbed at her. She should never have let this go so far that either of them was hurting. This was her fault, and it took everything in her not to sob at the tangled knot of emotions in her chest.

Mrs. Chambers burst into the salon, the bell jangling wildly as the door slammed open. Her eyes were wide and wild. “Someone broke into your apartment, Celia!”

“What?”
That brought reality rushing in to slap her in the face.

She tore past the old woman and around the corner of the building. Glass littered the stairs from the broken window panel in her front door.

“Oh, my God.” Her shoes crunched in the glass as she moved up the steps.

“Wait, Celia.” Mason’s voice rang out, a harsh command that stopped her in her tracks. “Don’t go in there. I’ve called the police—Price should be here soon.”

She stared at the shattered door, her fingers balled at her sides. Helpless anger flooded her system. Spinning around, she stomped back down the stairs and plopped down on the cement curb. She stuck her head between her knees. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s a terrible thing, dear. I’m sure the police will get everything sorted out.” A light hand patted her back.

This day was unreal. How had it spun out of control on every level so fast? Her stomach heaved and she wanted to vomit.

Mason sat beside her. She could feel the heat and strength of his body, and she
hated
herself for feeling comforted by his presence. He didn’t touch her, and for that she was grateful. She clenched her shaking hands, and swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.

A car came screeching to a halt in front of her building, and he stirred beside her. “My brother’s here.”

“Okay.” She sniffled as she sat up.

“Do you need help standing?” His voice was too kind to take offense that he thought her helpless.

Instead of answering, she rose slowly. People had come spilling out of the businesses nearby to see what the commotion was about. Mason went to greet his brother, and she focused on them rather than her shattered front door. Both men were big, dark haired, green-eyed, and had an air of command that made the crowd part before them. Price drew his weapon and went up the steps alone, but came back down after a few minutes.

He motioned her forward and she met him at the foot of the stairs, Mason, Jerry and Tori gathering with them. “No one’s been inside since the robbery, is that correct?”

Mason shook his head. “Not since we came outside. I kept Celia away, and I didn’t see anyone else try to go up.”

“All right, good. I’m going to have Celia come up and look around to see if anything is missing.” He met her gaze to make sure she understood he was serious. “It’s best if you don’t touch anything, is that clear?”

“Very.” She swayed a little on her feet as the surreal experience hit her again.

Mason cupped her elbow, holding her steady as he helped her up the staircase. She felt Price following close behind them, and she girded herself for what she might see when she got inside her place.

“I know it’s a mess, but do you see anything obvious missing?” Price’s deep voice seemed to boom too loud behind her as she crossed the threshold.

She pulled away from Mason and looked around, taking in her tossed things. The sense of violation was overpowering. Someone had broken in and touched her belongings. Her hands shook so she stuffed them in her pockets. She tried to focus, but her mind spun. “I…I…um…”

Mason set his palm between her shoulder blades. It was so hot, it burned her skin. She felt cold, chilled to the bone. A shudder passed through her. He slid his hand up until he squeezed the back of her neck, massaging her stiff muscles. “It’s going to be all right, sweetheart. Just look around, see if anything is gone. Maybe anything that might be valuable.”

She swallowed, leaning into him even though she knew she shouldn’t. Right now, she needed someone to be strong because she didn’t think she could be. She was freezing, and he offered warmth. Pulling in a slow breath, she swept the room with a glance. “Nothing is missing that I can tell. But my jewelry is in the bedroom.”

“Let’s look in there, then, because I don’t see anything gone either.” Mason urged her forward, slipping his arm down her back and around her waist, supporting her as they walked.

Her kitchen was untouched, as was her bathroom. Her bedroom was another matter. All her things were strewn across the floor—sheets, blankets and pillows, her dresser drawers were open, the contents spilling out. She drew in two slow breaths, and Mason held her tighter. Walking to the dresser, she knelt and sifted through the rubble. “My jewelry is here. All of it, I think. At least the stuff that would be worth anything. Nothing’s gone.”

“Nothing?” Price squatted beside her and Mason dropped down on her other side.

Frowning, she shook her head. “I don’t see anything missing anywhere. I don’t even see anything broken. It’s out on the floor, but it’s not broken or stolen.”

“Huh.” Price scowled, tapping a little notepad against his thigh. “It’s possible the robbery was interrupted. A noise startled him or…hell, I don’t know. Why wouldn’t he snatch the jewelry if he had it in his hand to throw it on the floor?”

Mason rubbed a hand down his face. “Why be careful enough to avoid breaking anything?”

“Hell if I know.” The older man looked baffled.

“So…we have breaking and entering, but no robbery.” Mason voiced the phrase slowly, as if that would make it make more sense.

It didn’t. So, Celia asked the obvious question. “But why?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“Do you have any enemies…anyone who’d be interested in scaring you?” Price’s cynical gaze drilled into her, not accusing, but not assuming she was innocent either. “An unhappy customer or employee, maybe an ex you had a bad breakup with?”

She shrugged helplessly, even more upset than before. Her ears buzzed, and the strangeness of it all just made her shake harder. “No…no one. My ex-husbands are long gone, and the divorces were amicable. The salon is in good order financially. My employees and customers are happy. All my stylists were at the salon with me anyway.”

“She’s right, we were all there. And we’re all happy little campers.” Jerry poked his head in the door. He grinned at Price. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. I didn’t touch anything when I came back here. I didn’t disturb any of the evidence.”

Price rolled his eyes, but then returned his attention to the debris. Celia rose to her feet and wandered back out into the living room, taking in the chaos again. She was right. Nothing was broken. Overturned, littering the ground, but easily put back into place. It didn’t make any sense at all. Who would break in, but not take anything? Who would want to break into her apartment in the first place? There really wasn’t much to steal—she didn’t keep anything particularly valuable. Her money was in her business, in her bank accounts.

Mrs. Chambers stood in the doorway to the apartment, and she blinked owlishly at the mess, her age-spotted hands twisting the strap on her purse. “Oh, you simply can’t stay here tonight, dear. There’s glass from the window everywhere. Things are all over the place.”

“You can stay with Aubrey and me, of course.” Flipping his notebook closed, Price stepped out of the bedroom.

Mason followed on the older man’s heels. “No, she’s staying with me.”

“Not if she doesn’t want to, brother.” Price’s gaze was hard, his expression unyielding.

Crossing his arms, Mason didn’t back down. “She doesn’t want to spend the night listening to the newlyweds thump the headboard against the wall.”

Celia winced, a very clear picture of what he’d described forming in her mind. Her friend would be quieter than that for the sake of a houseguest, but that wouldn’t keep them from doing the horizontal cha-cha all night. Great for Aubrey, not so much for Celia.

Her other option was Mason.

A groan spilled out of her throat. Logic told her to spend the night down the hall from the midnight mambo, lying there awake,
not
picturing her best friend getting it on, and
not
worrying about who might have broken into her place. It was the smarter choice, especially after what she’d told Mason downstairs. Spending the night at his house would only encourage him. But the last thing she could handle was spending the night alone. Her thoughts swimming, she didn’t even know which way was up anymore. Wasn’t that always the case with him? She shook her head at her own stupidity. “I’ll stay with Mason.”

“Oh, good.” Tori sighed. For a split second, Celia would swear that Jerry and the elderly lady shared a conspiratorial look, a tiny smile creasing his cheeks. His expression smoothed into sympathetic lines when he noticed her gaze upon them. Suspicion fluttered at the back of her mind. They wouldn’t go so far as to vandalize her house, would they? The basement thing to get her to spend time with Mason was annoying, but harmless. This? This was a violation of her home. And for what? To get her over to Mason’s house?

No. She shook her head. That was insane. The strain of the day was messing with her mind.

“All right.” Relief echoed in Mason’s voice, but he swung into action. “Let’s get some of your clothes together and head back to my place. Price and his officers can finish up here.”

The older Delacroix nodded. “You’ll need to file a police report, but we can do that in the morning.”

“Okay.” She sucked in a breath. “Okay.”

They pulled up to a neat little ranch style house. A stone chimney dominated one side of the front and a wide front porch took up the other half. She hadn’t known what to expect, but this wasn’t it. Mason coasted into the garage and hit the button to close the door. Grabbing her bag from the back, she followed him into the house. An enormous kitchen opened into a living room and she could see a hallway with several doors leading off of it. The rooms were appointed with cozy-looking furniture. She set her things on the kitchen island and did a small spin to take everything in. “It’s clean, and, you know, tidy.”

Mason grinned and dropped his keys on the counter. “You were expecting mid-30’s bachelor pad? Chrome and glass? Dirty dishes everywhere?”

“Well…you are a bachelor in your mid-30s.” She arched an eyebrow, and smiled. It was the first one she’d managed in hours, and her face felt stiff.

“True enough.” He shrugged. “I like things clean. And comfortable. Do you like it?”

“It doesn’t matter what I like or not. It’s your house, not mine.” She was too tired to dance around the issue. Maybe coming here had been a mistake. “Thank you for letting me stay, but I haven’t—”

His hand curled under her chin, forcing her to hold his gaze. “You know, I didn’t invite you here to pressure you into anything. Not sex, not a relationship. Not anything.”

“No relationship pressure? You promise?” Because she might just crumble and start crying if he pushed too hard. This day had been awful.

Stroking her cheekbone with his thumb, he shook his head. Tenderness bled into regret in his expression. “No. I’ve never meant to hurt you or scare you. Just the opposite.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes, her lips quivering, her heart aching. “I just don’t think that I’m the woman you think I am. Despite my track record, I’m
not
the marrying kind. I’m never going to be. You deserve someone who’ll give you what you want.”

And that someone wasn’t her. She hated having to admit it, but she couldn’t avoid the truth.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he kissed her forehead. “Now’s not the time for that discussion. Let’s just have some dinner and relax.”

Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. “I’m really not that hungry.”

“I know, but you should eat something anyway. Even if it’s a small meal.” He stepped away from her, and she missed his warmth.

Sighing, she managed a tiny smile. “Cookies?”

He snorted and wagged a finger at her. “Something with a little nutritional value.”

The lightness of the exchange made her grin widen, and she spread her hands. “Cookies have flour and eggs and milk.”

“I’ll bring you some cookies with a sandwich and soup.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, but didn’t protest. He pulled out a stool for her at the kitchen island, and she sat down to watch him serve her.

Moving efficiently around the kitchen, he pulled a couple of cans of soup out of a cabinet and emptied them into bowls. While those heated in the microwave, he gathered the makings of sandwiches. Ham and cheese were topped by lettuce, onions and juicy slices of tomatoes. The smell of the soup and the sight of those thick sandwiches made her stomach rumble. “Guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”

He grinned, brought her the soup and sandwich, and nodded toward the living room. “Let watch some TV while we eat. If you’re a good girl and finish all your dinner, you can have some cookies.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Chocolate chip?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He led the way, glancing back to wink at her. “Aubrey sent them home with me. There are definite perks to having her as a sister-in-law.”

“I know—she’s been my best friend for three years or so.” She sat beside him on the couch, setting the food on the coffee table.

It was comfortable to be there with him, eating dinner and watching a mindless television program. It was comfortable, and she didn’t want it to be. She pushed the thought away, too tired by the events of the day to dwell on what she couldn’t control. So, she just relaxed and went with it. What else could she do? It seemed to be her excuse for everything lately. She ignored that thought too. Add it to the list of things to beat herself up over later.

He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better.” She sighed, leaning against him. “Thank you.”

“No problem. You’ve fed me plenty of times. It seemed only fair to return the favor.”