Page 88 of Serve ’N’ Protect

“Show me.”

A minute later, they stood in the middle of a bedroom with yellow walls and a four-poster bed with a gauzy white cover. A life-sized poster of Justin Timberlake graced one wall. Several cycling and volleyball trophies lined the top of a dresser. Clothes were draped across the bed and hung from the back of a blue upholstered armchair.

As Markus looked around the room, absorbing every detail for clues, Cassidy’s earthy, honey scent filled his lungs, bringing with it painfully sweet memories of the last time they’d been together.

Ghost did a sweep of the room, sniffing the rug first then the clothes on the chair and the bed.

Beside him, Fiona stood wringing her hands. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“I don’t know.” But he would know it if and when he found it.

He opened the closet, praying he wouldn’t find…her suitcase, but there it was. A rolling black Samsonite. Damn. This didn’t bode well, but he wasn’t ready to go nuclear. Yet.

Next, he went into her bathroom and flipped on the lights. Her scent was stronger here, and his body shuddered involuntarily as he fought off more sensual memories. Tubes of hand and face cream along with several other cylindrical containers lined the vanity, along with a tube of toothpaste and a cupholder containing a toothbrush.

The luggage…the clothes…the toiletries. He’d never really lived with a woman before, but he knew enough to understand that when women went anywhere, even for one night, they took their toiletries with them.

“Markus?” Fiona stared at him, her eyes becoming more concerned by the second.

He punched off the rocker switch, shutting off the bathroom light. “Get a list of Cassidy’s friends together and call them. Every single one until you verify who she’s staying with.” His gut told him no one would be able to verify that, but he couldn’t be sure. “Ghost. Let’s go.”

Ghost snapped to attention, ears alert as he trotted from the room ahead of Markus.

“What are you going to do?” Fiona followed him as he headed down the stairs. “Where are you going?”

“To Cassidy’s house.” Before opening the door, he pulled out his cell phone. “What’s your number?” When she recited her number, he called it. As soon as the phone she’d left in the kitchen rang, he opened the front door. “If you hear from her, call me. Call everyone in the family and ask if they’ve heard from her. Calls, not text messages. If you talk to her, tell her to get back here right away, then let me know she’s okay.”

But as he and Ghost ran to his SUV, his gut told him he’d never get that call.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“Is it in your car?” He hitched his head to the door.

How to answer him? She didn’t know what response wouldn’t get her dead in two seconds or endanger someone she loved.

Cassidy let her head fall back onto the edge of the sofa where he’d unceremoniously dumped her a minute ago. No, the laptop wasn’t in her car, but if she said it was, could he possibly be dumb enough to leave her alone in the house while he went out and searched for it? Or was he dumb enough to take her with him, possibly giving her the opportunity to yell and scream at the top of her lungs then make a break for it? Not that she could run very fast. Or that anyone would hear her in the sparsely populated area.

Stupid was not a word she’d use to ever describe this guy, so the answer to both her questions was a resounding no.

“Well?” He took a step closer, raising his arm as if to hit her again.

Though he didn’t, she flinched anyway. One side of her face still stung and throbbed from the first time he’d hit her, and that had been in the exact same place the burglar had punched her. “Yes,” she lied, hoping she sounded convincing.

“We’ll see about that.” Keeping one eye on her and still aiming the gun in her direction, he went to the contents of her overturned purse and snagged her car keys. “If you’re lying, I’m going to be really pissed off.”

Her heart raced with anticipation as he went to the window again and pulled the curtain aside. Just when she thought he would actually be careless enough to leave her unattended while he went to her car, he stuffed the gun back into his belt and pulled out two sets of plastic zip ties and a small roll of duct tape.

The groan she made was audible. The tape was no doubt for her mouth so she wouldn’t be able to scream, the ties for her hands and feet. So much for screaming or a quick exit out the back door. Not unless she could hop like a bunny.

Outside, an engine slowed. The guy whipped his head around. Headlights flickered next door as a vehicle pulled into John’s driveway.

He flicked off the overhead light, plunging the room into near-darkness. “Don’t say a word,” he growled in a deadly voice. “Not one fucking word.”

Cassidy’s heart raced with hope and fear. John wasn’t supposed to be home for at least another month. He usually came over to check on her and say hello when he got back from his trips. Even though the lights were out, she worried he’d come over anyway and walk right into a hailstorm of bullets.

A car door slammed.

“Shit,” he muttered then hauled her off the sofa and dragged her to a corner of the room next to the hall closet. Along the way, she nearly tripped over her cane. His strong arm came across her chest then covered her mouth with his hand. The tip of his gun pressed firmly against her temple. “Keep quiet, or die now.”