CHAPTER 3
Despite Libby’s protests, Tony insisted the police be called and a report filed. The officers arrived, looked around, made their report, then left.
Libby and Tony worked on the cleanup long after total darkness had fallen outside. They spoke very little, but the silence between them was a companionable one.
Twilight made an appearance, taking an instant dislike to Tony. The big tomcat crawled out from his hiding place beneath the couch, hissed and spat and spent the rest of the evening sitting on his hook rug staring unblinkingly at Tony.
Libby’s anger deepened as they worked, and she realized that many of her things could not be repaired, but would have to be replaced. The television set was destroyed, as were the stereo and any other mechanical items she owned. The chair and sofa would have to be re-covered as deep rents had been slashed into them. The mattress on her bed would also have to be replaced. It had been cut and much of the filling had been pulled out.
Again and again Libby asked herself what kind of animals had been in her apartment. What could they have possibly been searching for with such vicious intensity? She was nearly overcome with exhaustion and bewilderment when she and Tony finally collapsed on the sofa, the worst of the mess straightened up.
“Thanks for all your help. It would have taken me all night to clean by myself.” She wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. “It’s just too bad we didn’t find any clues to help solve this mystery.” She looked at her watch and gasped. It was after ten o’clock. She pulled herself off the sofa. “Why don’t you just sit tight and relax for a few minutes and I’ll fix us a pot of coffee? I’d say we earned it.”
Tony nodded wearily.
“The coffee will just take a minute,” Libby called from the kitchen. She opened her refrigerator, wishing she’d bought some sort of cake or something suitable to serve with coffee. The only thing she had plenty of was cans of Twilight’s stinky cat food, and somehow that didn’t seem the proper thing to serve as a snack. She leaned against the counter tiredly, waiting impatiently for the dark brew to finish dripping through the filter.
In the living room, Tony settled back on the sofa. God, he was exhausted. He’d spent a miserable night in the cramped confines of his car, and the last thing he’d expected from the day was to be handed a mystery.
The search that had taken place both at the pawnshop and here had been total and complete, nothing left untouched. What was being sought? And was Libby as innocent in all this mess as she professed to be? It was a question his tired brain couldn’t answer. Still, innocent or not, there was something about her that challenged him, stimulated him. His back still burned from the feeling of her soft breasts pressed tightly against him.
He’d been acutely aware of her as they’d worked together to clean up the apartment. The rooms had smelled of her, a feminine scent that conjured up visions of perfumed breasts, soft thighs and evocative heat. Dangerous thoughts, he cautioned himself, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, wishing she’d hurry up and get the coffee out here so he could drink a cup and get the hell home.
“Here we go,” Libby said moments later as she carried a bamboo serving tray in from the kitchen. She stopped short at the sight of Tony stretched out on her sofa, sound asleep. She set the tray down on the coffee table, thought about waking him, then changed her mind and instead took the opportunity to study him in his sleep.
Why is it that men look so vulnerable in sleep?she wondered, noticing the way his dark hair was tousled boyishly and most of the lines in his face disappeared in total relaxation. She flushed slightly, noticing that his shirt had ridden up, exposing part of his tanned, flat abdomen.
Her body felt curiously warm and heavy as her gaze slowly traveled down the length of him. She could imagine the firm muscles of his chest beneath his shirt, the perfect symmetry of his male physique. She pressed her hands to her sides, fighting the impulse to reach out and trace with her fingertips the exposed skin of his stomach.
She recognized the emotion sweeping over her, even though it had been a very long time since she’d last felt it. Lust. She grinned, realizing that the hormones she’d nearly forgotten she possessed were kicking in with a force that was breathtaking. Lust…desire…it was ridiculous. Her pawnshop had been ransacked, her apartment broken into and she was standing in the middle of her living room floor gazing at a sleeping man and feeling like a sexually peaking woman who finds herself on a deserted island with a handsome hunk. She stifled a hysterical giggle and reached out to shake Tony awake. Before her hand could make contact with his shoulder, he twitched. She recognized the movement as the muscle spasm of a man who was totally and completely exhausted.
Under normal circumstances, she would never allow a relative stranger to spend the night on her sofa.
But these were not normal circumstances. In the past twenty-four hours her world had been turned topsy-turvy. Besides, there was a certain amount of comfort in knowing she would not be alone in the apartment.
She turned out the lights in the kitchen and living room, then went into the bathroom.
As she took off her clothes, her mind whirled with questions. She agreed with Tony’s assessment that whoever had broken into the pawnshop and here had been looking for something—but what? She racked her brain, seeking any answer that would make some sort of rational sense. But there were no answers forthcoming. She could only hope that they, whoever they were, had found what they were looking for, or realized she didn’t have it.
She threw her clothes into the hamper, then pulled on the oversize velour robe that hung on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. She shoved her jewelry into the pocket of the robe and quickly washed her face.
Ready for bed, she left the bathroom, pausing at the door of her bedroom. “Come on, Twilight,” she whispered to the cat, who was still curled up on the hook rug, eyeing the sleeping Tony suspiciously. “Come on, kitty,” she called again, but Twilight studiously ignored her. “All right, then just stay out there,” she murmured, going into her bedroom.
Always before upon entering the room, she’d felt as if she were entering a safe, warm retreat from the world. This time, the room seemed cold and alien. Even beneath the clean sheets now on the bed, the rips in the mattress could be seen. Elsewhere in the room there was further evidence of the massive search that had gone on while she had been away.
“Damn them,” she said dispiritedly, taking off the robe and slipping into the blue teddy that was her sleeping attire.
“Damn them,” she repeated, this time more forcefully. The room even smelled like something or someone strange had been in it. She crossed the small room and opened the window, breathing deeply of the cool, night air. She had no apartment insurance, having checked into it and found the premiums more than her budget could afford. She would have to replace the ruined items one at a time, as money allowed.
She sighed, finding it all overwhelmingly depressing. Overcome with a wave of tiredness, she crawled into bed, shivering slightly as her slender body attempted to get comfortable against the now-unfamiliar lumpy mattress. She shut off the bedside lamp and sighed again. What the hell was happening to her life?
* * *
Libby awoke suddenly to find a huge hand shoved over her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered open and in those first split seconds of instant awakeness, her mind registered several things. First was the fact that her bedroom window was now wide open. Secondly, she was intensely conscious of the man leaning over her, his hand clamped harshly against her mouth to still any scream that might touch her lips. Although the room was too dark for her to see anything except a bulky silhouette, she could smell him, a scent of sour perspiration and danger. The last realization that struck her was that she was in trouble. Her heartbeats came fast and furious as she struggled impotently against the big man who held her down against the bed.
“Where is it?” his guttural voice demanded.
Even in her terror, a ridiculous thought struck her. How did he expect her to answer his question when he had his grimy hand shoved halfway down her throat? Following on the heels of this thought came anger, a growing rage that took precedence over her fear.
