Sin With Cuffs (5 page)

Closing the window, she headed to the door and it slammed shut. A scream escaped her as her adrenaline soared, until logical reasoning took hold. “Calm down. It’s only a draft,” she said in a whisper.

She pushed past shock and moved toward the door when she stepped on something hard.
A book
. Picking it up, she recognized the worn cover.
Her grandma’s journal
. The first night here, Holly had looked for the diary. How had she missed it?

Opening the cover, the binding cracked in resistance. On the first page, she found a picture of flowers that her grandma had sketched in pencil. A pain filled Holly’s chest as she smoothed her finger over the drawing.

Flipping through the yellowed pages, she found poem after poem her grandma had written. On the last sheet, she found written in bold letters…  

“Beware of those who hide their evil acts with a charming smile.”

She wondered what her grandma meant besides the obvious?

Clutching the book to her chest, Holly planned to read every page, and cherish it as a priceless gift. She made her way to the door, tugged on the doorknob, grateful when it opened without any problem. With a quick glance down the hall, she made sure it was empty before leaving the bedroom.

Halfway to her bedroom, a movement made her stop. She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her knuckles, blinked twice and the blurry silhouette remained. Her stomach twisted and uncertainty spread through her as she stared. She started to question if it were her eyes or mind betraying her.

Closing her eyes and counting to five, she then opened them. The vision was gone. Heavy footsteps vibrated through the house, like thunder in the distance. Seconds later, she heard the front door open and then shut.

A sob broke through her tight lips. Her hands shook and her mind draped around a dozen explanations. She went to the top of the steps and peered down into the unknown. She couldn’t see anything but knew she hadn’t been alone.

Dialing a familiar number on her phone, she waited as one ring, then two and three sounded. On the fourth ring, there was a click and a gruff voice, “Ryan here.”

“There was someone in my house. Can you come?”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE DOOR OPENED and Holly stood on the other side looking at him with a worried gaze. Concern sliced through him.

Liam reminded himself that he was here strictly on a professional level, which wasn’t easy—not when he’d known her most of his life. 

He’d been sleeping when she’d called. In fact, he’d been dreaming about her. His gaze automatically fell to the top and matching bottoms. He had to admit the woman looked enticing in a pair of modest PJ’s. Damn! She’d monopolized his dreams, his waking thoughts—and it angered him. He didn’t want her to occupy one more moment of his time. Even as he thought it, he knew he didn’t have any power.

He’d told himself to stay away. Yet, he came immediately to her rescue. Like a hero. He liked her needing him, and that was dangerous.

“We’re going to have to stop meeting like this, Holly,” Liam said, attempting a stern tone but it sounded flirtatious. He cleared his throat. “You said someone was here, in the house?”

Her eyes slid down his body and came back to hold his gaze in a semi-warm stare. His cock twitched. There went any form of control he had left. “You’re wearing shorts,” she said.

“Does that bother you?” he asked.

 She shrugged, causing one button to her flannel to come undone. He caught a glimpse of silken skin before forcing his gaze to stay right where it should be be…on her face. Somehow, seeing the top of one breast drove him wilder than he thought possible. It was killing him. “Of course not,” she said.

He’d forgotten what he’d asked.

He brushed passed her and caught a hint of her familiar scent. Cotton candy. He loved it. Always had.

What in the hell was he doing? He regretted coming and knew being there tormented his libido. He should have had one of his officers come instead.

“I’m sorry for calling.” She slammed the door with her foot. “But someone was in here.”

“Did you see them?”

She hesitated, then said, “Well, yes and no.”

“Which is it? You did or you didn’t?” He was closer than ever in believing she enjoyed torturing him.

“Okay, I did,” she blurted.

“What did this person look like?”

Her gaze narrowed as she wrapped her arms around her waist. “He, or she, looked like a shadow.”

Squeezing the bridge of his nose, he inhaled deeply. Hell, he wasn’t normally this high-strung. He dropped his hand and sighed, wishing he could make a fast trip to the gym where a good hour of workout would relieve his stress.

She moved into the living room and his eyes automatically dropped below her waist to the perfect curve of her ass.
He was heading straight to hell!
He followed her, noticing that all of the glass was gone from the floor. A sheet of heavy plastic covered the broken window. “A shadow? And, by the way, you need to get that fixed.” He motioned toward the half-baked repair job.

She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, as if she debated how to explain. “It was dark. There was something, a silhouette, and it moved. Then I heard the door open.” There was a slight pause. “And I’ll get around to fixing the glass.”

“Once a procrastinator always a procrastinator,” he said, but stopped there. He didn’t think she needed a lecture, not tonight. “The front door?” He guessed this story would only get more complicated.

“Yes, the front door.” She sighed.

“Did you leave it unlocked?”

“I locked it.” Her hands moved to her hips.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” One corner of her mouth lowered. “Is this an interrogation?”

Liam realized he was going at her too strong. He was just so damned tense. He mentally pulled back. “I’m just trying to get to the bottom of things. If you’re certain you locked the door, then how did they get in? They could have just stripped the plastic and entered.” He checked the clear tape around the edge of the plastic. “Looks like it’s still intact.” He didn’t get a response so he turned back to her. “Well?”

Her mouth opened, but quickly shut. There was a long hesitation before she said, “I’m not sure. But someone was here.”

Her expression told him she second-guessed herself. However, he needed to treat this with supreme importance. He knew her, at least he once had, and he’d never known her as indecisive. “Stay here. I’ll check all of the other windows and doors.”

She nodded.

“I’ll start upstairs.”

Liam climbed the stairs two at a time. Holly’s school pictures still hung on the wall. As he passed, he glanced at each one, remembering her at every age. Being here, at her childhood home, brought back memories, some he’d forgotten, and some he wished he could forget. When Holly’s grandma had been working, he’d come over and keep Holly company. Most of the time they’d behaved, but on occasion they’d tested boundaries.

At the time, nothing would have swayed his temptation for her. He was a boy, or rather a walking hormone. He’d like to think he’d matured, but when it came to Holly his sexual drive wouldn’t be good.

Their relationship had been more than casual or teen lust. He’d been in love with her. They’d promised each other forever and shared dreams. Did anyone believe in forever anymore?
Hell, he did.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he paused and looked down the hallway. It was dark. Too obscure to see anyone, he was certain. So, what had Holly seen? He inspected the floor for any prints and came up empty.

Checking out her grandma’s bedroom, nothing stuck out to him, besides the bat in the middle of the floor. Holly had never played the sport, and her grandma certainly wasn’t into sports. He’d guess Holly used it as a weapon. At least she had some form of protection.

He explored the entire upstairs, except for Holly’s room. He saved that for last.

Switching on the light, he took a trip back into the past. Every inch of her room was a reminder of the days when they were kids. From the twin bed that squeaked like a screen door to the same thin white curtains with the rip in the seam. He’d caught his foot in the fabric more times than he could count when he was climbing through the window, but that was years ago.

Question was, why hadn’t Holly packed up her posters of rock stars, banners and mementoes? Especially the picture that he found stuck on the dresser mirror. Liam pulled it off and stared down into the yellowed snapshot of him and Holly. It was taken six months before she’d left town. They were young and silly—smiling and holding hands. Holly’s bright eyes and dazzling smile had been the sunshine to his sky.  

He dropped the picture, wishing he could do the same to his memories.

Surveying the rest of the space, a flash of red in her closet caught his attention. He pushed the sliding door open. His football jersey—she’d kept it. He took it off the hanger and turned it from front to back. The torn material reminded him of the days on the battlefield.  He’d played football all through high school. He remembered the night he gave her the shirt. He’d graduated from high school and she’d teased him about going to college, possibly forgetting her. He’d tried convincing her it wouldn’t happen.  

Laughing, he shook his head in thought. If he’d had a long enough rope, he’d have pulled the moon down out of the sky for her. All he had to give back then was his heart—and the clothes on his back. He had pulled the jersey off and handed it to her on that steamy summer night, with a promise that his love belonged to her. How stupid could he have been? No young boy knows what he wants, or whom he wants to be with for the rest of his days.

He’d
known. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew beyond any doubt that Holly had been the one. He couldn’t even deny he wished things had gone differently for them .

Because she broke his heart, and it’d never mended, he could never…would never forgive her.

* * * *

Holly sat on the chair waiting while Liam investigated the house. She heard his footsteps on the second floor as he moved from one room to another. He seemed to linger a little longer in her bedroom. Realizing she should have removed all of the pictures and
his
things, came a little too late.

When he returned, his jaw was set at a tight angle and his gaze was distant.

“You didn’t find anything?” she asked.  “Nothing to prove that you had an intruder.”

“I know what I saw, Liam,” she stated.

“I know what you thought you saw,” he said.

 “Do you think I’m making this up? The rock through the window. The shadow upstairs. The door opening and closing. Maybe I’m haunted by a ghost.”

“A ghost? Are you serious?” he asked.

“Something isn’t right, obviously.” She hesitated, wondering if she should tell him about the book. What did she have to lose? “When I got here, I looked all over for Grandma’s journal. I didn’t find it. Tonight, I found it on her bedroom floor, right in the open. Did I imagine the book?” She grabbed it off the coffee table and waved it, then set it back down.

“You were upset when you arrived—”

“I’m not delusional, Lem. You know me.”