Lydia gave her one last pleading look before getting up and heading to her bedroom. Mickey turned to face Graham and planted her fists on her hips. “You could’ve asked if I was okay with you staying here. You can’t tell me what to do, and then think I’m alright with you making yourself at home in my apartment. It doesn’t work that way.”
Graham took one step toward her, bringing him way too close in the small space. “How does it work then, darling?”
She swallowed hard and stood her ground. “I don’t care what you think of me, you will treat me with respect. And you won’t call me darling. You don’t get to waltz in here and dictate what I do. I’ve done nothing wrong, and I won’t stand for being treated like a criminal. If you want to stay here tonight, fine. You can sleep on the couch. Pillows and blankets are in the hall closet. I’m going to bed.”
Turning away from him, she walked to her bedroom and closed the door. She pulled off her clothes and threw them in the corner of the room before grabbing a large T-shirt from her drawer. The soft material bunched in her hands. She hadn’t showered at all today, but it would be too much work right now. Besides, maybe Graham would keep his distance if the sweat from her workout still hung in the air around her. He might not trust her, but if he was half as attracted to her as she was to him, she had to do whatever she could to keep space between them.
Yanking the old Cubs shirt over her head, she pulled the long strands of her hair out from under the shirt and climbed into bed. The mattress dipped low beneath her weight and she pulled the down blanket around her. She shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. Her muscles relaxed, but the tension in the back of her neck remained. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come, but images of Becca played on repeat in her mind. Tears sprang to her eyes and leaked down onto her pillow. They had to find her. Failure wasn’t an option. She just prayed that when they did, it wouldn’t be too late. Holding on to that prayer, sleep finally came and gave her a short reprieve from the nightmare of her life.
Mickey bolted up in bed,a cold sweat clinging to her brow.
Her room was dark, except for the tiny sliver of moonlight seeping in through a slit in her curtains. She pulled her blanket over her chest and her eyes scanned the room. Her heart raced and she tried to steady her shaky nerves. The rapid banging of her pulse beat through her eardrums. Something had woken her. A noise? No. That wasn’t it. She had to get out of here, though.
Her gaze flew to her nightstand, and she reached down and grabbed her taser. She’d been too tired to be afraid of staying in her apartment for the night, but she wasn’t stupid. The taser had been switched to a higher setting, and she’d made sure it was within reach before she went to sleep. If someone came back for her tonight, she’d be ready. And this time, the person wouldn’t be walking out of here.
The floorboards of the old apartment shifted. She held her breath and strained to hear anything happening outside her bedroom door.
Nothing.
Blood thundered in her ears, drowning out everything around her. Taking a deep breath, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and stood. Cold air blasted out of the vent above her and a shiver tore through her. The hairs on her arm stood on end, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or fear.
Her bare feet padded across the carpet and her hand rested on the doorknob. If someone was out there, she’d rather be on the defensive. She wasn’t going to lie in her bed and wait for someone to kill her. Something, or someone, had woken her up. Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and stepped out into the dark hall. Not even the moonlight lit a path for her, and she blinked to adjust her eyes to the total darkness.
The plush carpet absorbed the sound of her tiptoeing down the hall. Her hands wrapped around the taser and she pointed it straight in front of her. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, and her heart beat harder with every step.
A soft creak came from the direction of the kitchen. She stopped, squeezed her eyes shut, and gathered all of her courage.You can do this. Don’t be a victim. Take control.She took two long strides to the end of the hallway, whipped around the corner, and sucked in a breath as a dark figure in the kitchenturned toward her. Her finger shook against the trigger of the taser.
“Holy shit, Mickey. What the hell are you doing?”
“Something woke me up,” she said as she released a pent-up breath. She dropped her arms to her sides and relief washed over her.
“And you didn’t think if a threat was in your apartment the FBI agent would take care of it?” He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water before facing her again.
No curtains hung from the kitchen window, and moonlight streamed in and danced across the tiled floor. Graham stood in front of the sink. Dark circles hung low under his eyes, but that wasn’t what caused her pulse to pick up. Graham Grassi, Mr. G. I. Joe himself, stood in her kitchen with bare feet and his white dress shirt unbuttoned to reveal his smooth, muscular chest.
She met his gaze head on. “For all I knew, you fell asleep and got caught with your pants down. It seems I was half right since you’re walking around my home half naked.” She had to hold on to her annoyance to keep from drooling over his washboard abs.
Even with his face half hidden in the shadows, there was no mistaking the spark of humor in his eyes. He shrugged and the muscles in his shoulders bunched together. “I wanted to make myself a little more comfortable before I went to sleep. It seems I’m not the only one,” he said, dipping his chin low in her direction.
She glanced down and heat erupted in her like a volcano. The T-shirt she’d thrown on barely skimmed the top of her thighs and her nipples pressed against the flimsy cotton of the ancient shirt. Thank God it was dark. It’d be harder for him to see how red her face grew when she was embarrassed. Swallowing down her humiliation, she met his gaze once again. “I’m in my own home. I can dress however I like.”
He cocked his head to the side. “I didn’t know there was a dress code for guests. You should have warned me of that before you stormed off to bed earlier.”
Anger flared inside her, but it was hard to stay focused when all she wanted to do was run her fingers down the hard board of his stomach. My God. How many hours a day did the man work out to get such chiseled abs? She couldn’t tear her eyes off them.
“Do you like what you see?” He took a step toward her, and she took one back.
Her eyes snapped to his and her face tingled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and instantly regretted it. Instead of hiding her breasts, the material clung more firmly against them. She took another step toward the hall and dropped her arms back to her sides. “I’m going back to bed.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you. I wanted a drink of water before I went to sleep.”
She glanced at the clock and raised her brows. “You’re just now going to sleep? It’s almost three.”
Graham lifted the glass to his lips and took a long sip. “I had work to do.”
“Did you find anything?”
He shook his head. “I can’t discuss the case with you, Mickey.”
