Trevor’s eyes softened. “That I do.”
“Good night, Trev. Drive safe.”
“Night, Mac. And good luck.”
“Thanks.”
She shut the door, hoisted the wide strap of her smaller bag over her shoulder, and headed inside. Using the elevator ride up to her floor, Mac quickly devised another plan. One much better than a desperate run in a hospital parking lot.
Looking at her watch, she assumed Coop would already be home by now. It was late and given the mood he’d been in when he left, he’d most likely showered and gone to bed.
You know me better than I know myself.
He’d told her that earlier when they were still in the barn, and he was right. Mac knew him inside and out. A fact that left her wanting to scream with frustration for not having picked up on what he’d wanted her to say.
I love you.
That’s what he’d wanted to hear. That’s what sheshouldhave said.
I love you.
All he needed was trust and love.
She’d damn near blown the first one, and though she felt it with every fiber of her being, she’d been too confused to understand all he wanted was the second.
I love you.
That’s what she would tell him the second he opened his door. But first, she needed to get herself more presentable. A moment like this called for a shower and freshly shaved legs and other lady parts.
The elevator dinged. The doors couldn’t open fast enough, so Mac used both hands to help them along.
Squeezing through—which wasn’t easy to do with her suitcase and bulky bag—she speed-walked to her apartment door, all the way down at the end of the hall. She was in such a hurry to get in and out, and get to Coop, she didn’t notice the tiny scrapes in the metal around her keyhole.
With a push on her door, Mac lugged her suitcase inside. She waited until she was completely in with the door shut behind her before flipping on the lights. When she turned around, her heart leapt into her throat.
Her apartment was trashed. Every inch she could see either upended or destroyed.
Mac drew the gun she’d placed at the small of her back when she and Trevor left the hospital. Next, she pulled the phone from her pocket and called Trevor while she started clearing all the rooms.
The sound of tires squealing traveled through the phone’s speaker as Trevor turned his truck around and headed back to her apartment. He stayed on the line, waiting until she confirmed she was alone and in no immediate danger, before hanging up and call the authorities.
In the meantime, Mac called the alarm company to find out why she hadn’t been alerted to the break-in. They had no answer for her other than to say the alarm hadn’t gone off, and they had no explanation as to why.
Someone had somehow bypassed her system. A system Derek had help design and install. Whoever it was, they knew what the hell they were doing.
Less than thirty minutes later, her apartment was flooded with people. Trevor was there, of course, as was Eric West, Derek’s twin brother.
Eric was a decorated detective with the DPD and was more privy to the inner workings of R.I.S.C. than the general public. Any time a call came in involving a member of either of the Alpha or Bravo teams—both teams had seen more than their fair share, lately—Eric managed to get himself assigned to the case.
Tonight he’d brought along fellow detective, Riley York. The tall, attractive woman was wearing her signature ponytail. Her long, dark hair swishing back and forth with each movement of her head as she spoke to one of the officers.
The pair had worked closely with Mac and the others when Derek’s wife had been terrorized by her ex. At first, Mac didn’t care for Detective York, but that probably had something to do with her having accused Derek of murder.
After that situation was resolved and Riley risked her own career to help Derek and the team save Charlie, Mac’s feelings toward the woman changed.
Eric ended a call, and he and Riley walked over to where Mac and Trevor were standing.
“I heard back from the Jersey City police department. The detective in charge of Henry Doyle’s case assures me the attorney is still sitting behind bars.”
