She put a hand on her heart and her shoulders dropped. “Oh, thank God.”
“What’s your name?” Mickey had mentioned it, but he couldn’t remember.
“Lydia. So, Mickey’s not hurt? What happened in there?”
He put his ID back in his pocket and pulled out the pen and notepad that were as much a part of him as his right arm. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”
Lydia shook her head and not one hair fell out of place. “I don’t understand. Didn’t you talk to Mickey?”
He nodded. “Yes, but I think you might be able to shed a little more light on the situation.”
Lydia lifted her gaze up to the second-story window. The streetlight behind them shone down on her, showing off her furrowed brow. “I don’t understand. Mickey yelled at me to leave as soon as I cracked the door open, and I knew something was wrong. But I didn’t see anything.”
Graham turned and followed Lydia’s gaze to Mickey’s apartment window. Another lead with nowhere to go, another story without an ending to clear Mickey’s name. She didn’t know it yet, but another nail had just been hammered in her coffin.
7
“We can’t stay here tonight,” Lydia said.
Her dark eyes glanced over at Graham, who stood in the corner of the kitchen, talking on his phone. “G.I. Joe over there busted the door. And even if we could get it to close properly, that woman still has a copy of the key.”
Mickey sank deep into the soft cushions of the couch, wishing she could disappear. At least for the night. Exhaustion weighed her down. “She won’t come back tonight. That’d be stupid. And I’m too tired to pack my stuff up and figure out where to go.”
Lydia crossed the room and sat beside her. “Come with me to my parents’ house.”
Mickey’s eyes drifted shut. She didn’t have the energy to keep them open anymore. Not after the day she’d had. She’d spent the last hour giving her statement to the police and then rehashing everything again with Agent Grassi. But the more she’d talked, the more he stared at her with those intense, distrusting eyes. It didn’t help that Lydia hadn’t actually seen anything. At least Lydia didn’t think she was lying.
“You should listen to her,” Graham said.
Her muscles tightened and her eyes flew open. He stood over her, so close she could smell the lingering sweat that had soaked through his shirt earlier. “Why do you care? And why are you still here?”
His eye twitched, but his features remained calm. “I was talking to my partner about our next move. Talking to you is important in finding Becca and the other girls. The fact that this woman said they were tying up loose ends before leaving town is crucial. If Pete’s still in town, so are the girls.”
“I thought you didn’t believe me.”
“I said I didn’t know what to believe.”
She snorted and pulled herself up from the comfortable cushions that cradled her in their softness. “Whatever. I don’t care what you think. I just want you to do your job and find Becca.”
His lip hitched up in the annoyingly sexy half smile that made her blood hum. But it didn’t matter how the scruff on his chin highlighted his strong jaw or if his shirt showed off all the definition that lay beneath it. He was off limits the minute he had questioned her about her whereabouts like she was a suspect in her own goddaughter’s disappearance.
“We agree on something then,” he said. “That’s why you’re going with your friend to her parents for the night while I stay here. I don’t think the woman who attacked you will be back tonight, but if she is, I want to see her for myself.”
In one day, Graham had gone from the sexy mystery man who saved her life to a major pain in her ass. No way she would let him tell her what to do, especially after the way he’d treated her all day.
“I’m not going anywhere. If you want to stay, good. Then Lydia could leave and be out of harm’s way without worrying about me.” She stood and looked down at Lydia. “You go. I have G.I. Joe with me for the night. I’ll be fine.”
Graham snorted out a laugh. “G.I. Joe?”
Mickey’s lips curved into a tight smile and she batted her lashes at him. “Yep. My hero.”
“I don’t want to leave you here. You’ve had a rough couple of days.” Lydia reached up and grabbed her hand.
“And all I want to do is fall into my bed and go to sleep. I’ll be fine. Graham’s here.” She plastered on the same smile she used at work—the one that hid the irritation dying to scream from her pores. The last thing she wanted was to spend more time with Graham, but she wanted to keep Lydia and her family safe. If someone was following her, what would stop her from leading them to the doorsteps of her best friend’s parents’ house? As much as she hated to admit it, the safest place for her was with Graham.
Lydia arched one finely shaped eyebrow. “Graham?”
“Agent Grassi.” Graham chuckled behind her and she gritted her teeth. “Now go pack your bag and get out of here so I can go to sleep.”
