Bam!
Another door slammed open. The sudden burst of noise made her jump.
Bam!
And another. This one closer and louder. Probably the bathroom door right next to her room. Her grip tightened around the gun.Please, Lord, let that be Graham
Bam!
Her door burst open, wood splintering from the doorframe, and Graham swung into her room. His legs stood firm, his feet planted on the ground. Both arms stretched out in front of him and a gun, much like the one she held, was aimed at her. His eyes darted around the room, and he walked in slowly.
She stood. “What the hell is your problem? You could have knocked, or just opened the damn door. You scared the shit out of me.”
His intense gray eyes hardened and his jaw tightened. “Are you alone in here?”
“Yes, dammit.” She lifted her hands in frustration. “Who do you think would be in here?”
Graham dropped the gun to his side, his gaze never leaving hers. “I don’t know. But there sure as hell isn’t anyone out there.”
6
She must think he was a damn idiot.
He’d rushed over here, broken down the door, and found absolutely nothing wrong. And why had she called him instead of the police? It didn’t make any sense. The weight of his gun hung heavy in his hand as it dangled at his side. He studied Mickey. Red blotches dotted her porcelain skin and her dark pupils overpowered her irises. Her hands shook, causing the gun to bounce in her too-tight grip. He walked over to her dresser and yanked a T-shirt from the top drawer. With the soft cotton cupped in his hand, he eased the gun from hands and her arms dropped to her sides. The last thing he needed was for her to accidentally pull the trigger.
Maybe it wouldn’t be an accident.
She eyed him wearily. “What do you mean nobody’s out there?”
He held the gun away from his body. He needed to have it checked for prints, and he didn’t want to contaminate what they might find. His brows rose at the question. “I mean the only person in this apartment is you.”
Mickey shook her head and the corners of her mouth dipped down in a frown. “That doesn’t make sense. She’s got to be here somewhere. I used my taser on her. Wouldn’t the stun keep her off her feet for a while?”
“It depends on how powerful the taser is. Have you ever used it before?”
“No. My dad bought it for me when I moved into the city after college. I always assumed it’d keep someone off their feet for a while, at least enough time to get away.”
Graham bit back a smart-ass retort. He couldn’t let his irritation show. He needed to keep her calm so she could give him some damn answers. Pushing aside her ignorance of a weapon she owned, a weapon she could hurt someone with if she didn’t know what the hell she was doing, he said, “I’ve checked the entire apartment. I don’t even see a sign of a struggle in the kitchen where you claimed she was passed out on the floor.”
If the fire from her hard stare could have burned him, he’d need a paramedic. A small vein running down her forehead bulged. “Where I claimed? Do you think I made it up?”
He lifted his shoulders. “I honestly don’t know.”
Her jaw tightened; she jumped to her feet and pushed past him.
Great job keeping her calm.
He jammed his gun into the smooth leather of the holster on his belt. Cool metal pressed against a tiny spot of skin above his waistband, sending a shiver up his spine. His eyes did a quick scan of her bedroom. The room was small, with just enough space for a double bed and an armoire tucked in the corner. A soft pink bedspread with some sort of gray swirls covered the bed, not like he could see much of it. Clothes lay everywhere, their discarded hangers thrown carelessly on the floor. The woman was a slob.
Turning on his heel, he walked out of the room and found Mickey in the kitchen. The top of the table was as cluttered as her room. Mickey’s arms swiped the papers from side to side, uncovering bits of wood from underneath. Paper rustled as she picked up magazines and loose newspaper pages and shook them in the air.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he watched with annoyance.
“My key. I can’t find my key.” She didn’t stop shifting through the clutter as she spoke. “She threw it on the table, but it’s not here.”
Graham walked to the counter and set down the gun he’d taken from her, making sure it stayed nestled in the shirt. “How did she get a key to your apartment?” His mind raced as he continued to watch her. No matter how much he wanted to believe the redheaded knockout with the killer body had nothing to do with the case, he couldn’t ignore all the glaringly obvious signs that told him otherwise.
Mickey dropped to her hands and knees and her head disappeared under the table, giving him an excellent view of her ass. His jaw dropped and he groaned out his frustration. “She had my spare key. She said Pete gave it to her.”
