Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(8)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

Lucky for this guy neither he nor CeCe had dogs.

But the intruder’s luck ran out at that point.

Jeremy checked for any additional threats before easing out the sliding glass door that opened to his patio. He vaulted over the fence into CeCe’s yard and crouched all the way to where he found the sliding glass door open just enough to let a person pass through.

She’d probably left it unlocked for him.

He entered silently and paused in the kitchen. A deep voice rumbled low in the living room.

Much as he wanted to race in there and slam a head, Jeremy couldn’t make a mistake that would put CeCe in further danger.

A rough male voice said, “You’re Cecelia Caprice. Pretended to be a statue at the festival this weekend, right?”

“Y-yes, but I don’t understand,” CeCe answered as Jeremy crept forward. “What do you want from me?” Her voice went up an octave every couple words. She was closing in on hysteria.

Jeremy covered the last fifteen feet to the short hallway leading to the living room and paused again, peeking around the corner.

The bulked-up intruder held a weapon to CeCe’s head. “Calm down. If you scream, I swear I’ll blow your brains out.”

Rage sheared through Jeremy like a honed razor. He lifted his weapon and stepped into the room.

Five

The intruder stood to the side of CeCe, who sat shivering on the couch. Wearing a red silk kimono might not be the warmest clothing, but she was shaking from terror of having a weapon shoved against her head.

If this was a mission for BAD, Jeremy would take the clear shot he had. There were plenty of reasons not to, but the only one that mattered was the danger of the weapon at CeCe’s head discharging.

Jeremy pulled a penny from his pants pocket and tossed it down the hallway where the coin bounced against a baseboard.

“What was that?” the intruder said, eyes turning toward the sound.

“I don’t know,” CeCe whispered. “I live alone.”

Indecision played through the perp’s hardened face until he backed a step away from CeCe, pulling his weapon off her head.

Just what Jeremy had hoped for. He let the guy take a second step toward the hallway that brought him closer to Jeremy, who rushed him.

The perp’s eyes flashed surprise. He hesitated in raising his gun hand just a second, long enough for Jeremy to reach him in time to knock the weapon away.

But that left Jeremy open for the left hook that felt like a sledgehammer when it clipped his jaw. He took the hit then came back with a right cross of his own, using his gun to slam the guy in his temple.

The intruder fell back against her front door and dropped down between the door and the end of her couch.

“Jeremy.” CeCe had barely said his name as if she couldn’t breathe for hyperventilating.

“Are you okay?” He gave her a quick glance while he bent to pick up the intruder’s Glock and shoved it inside the waistband of his jeans. She wasn’t screaming and her eyes hadn’t glazed over with shock yet in spite of being terrified.

CeCe nodded from where she sat frozen. Her eyes zeroed in on the weapon in Jeremy’s hand and widened. If her face lost any more color he worried she might pass out.

Taking a look to ensure the guy was still out cold, Jeremy stepped over to where CeCe sat frozen in place on her sofa, hands gripping the cushion on each side of her legs.

He leaned down and put his palm against her face. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, fighting to hold back tears.

He kissed her, just enough to give her some comfort. When Jeremy lifted his head he was heartened to see her shock fading. Giving her a task would take her mind off the fear she’d just endured. “Have you got duct tape?”

She blinked, clearing her gaze. “Yes.”

“Walk around the far end of the coffee table and go get it.”

The minute she exited the room Jeremy went back to the guy, whose fingers were moving. He’d come to in a minute. The intruder packed an easy two hundred and twenty-five pounds of corded muscle into black pants and a tight-fitting T-shirt. Thick ruddy brown–colored hair an inch long covered his blockhead and deep lines carved into his ugly mug. A scar made up of X’s ran from elbow to wrist on his left arm. Prison cuts?

The guy shook his head and opened eyes that narrowed with hate.

In that instant, Jeremy saw something familiar in his face, but he couldn’t place him. “Who are you?”

“Someone you shouldn’t be pissing off,” the thug answered.

“Hard not to do when that’s my specialty.”

The guy’s arrogant gaze flattened. “You’re f**king with the wrong person.”

“I could say the same thing.” Jeremy listened for CeCe who was digging through drawers in the kitchen, followed by slamming a drawer and cursing. His gaze stayed on this guy, who was too calm for being caught breaking and entering. “How do you know CeCe?”

Dull gray eyes stared then he shrugged. “Picture was in the paper.”

“What do you want with her?”

“What do you think?” The perp grinned.

Jeremy drew on all his discipline not to shove that smile down to the guy’s boots.

“Wait a minute,” the intruder whispered. His eyebrows lowered over soulless eyes that pondered on something. “I know you.”

Shit. He hated to be right some days. “No you don’t.”

When CeCe slammed a drawer this time it was followed by her footsteps rushing back to the living room.

The guy’s face shifted from trying to place Jeremy to problem solved. “I do know you.”

Jeremy would have liked another minute to find out how this guy knew him, but he didn’t want that conversation in front of CeCe or the police. Just before she entered the living room, Jeremy slammed his weapon against the perp’s head hard enough to knock him out for a long while.

“What happened?” CeCe hurried over to him.

“He lunged at me. When I get him rolled over, tape his hands,” Jeremy instructed her.

When he had the perp on his face and hands behind his back, Jeremy nodded. CeCe tore off a strip of tape she slipped under the man’s wrists and wrapped the length around and around with shaking hands.

“Tape his ankles too.” Jeremy waited until she finished to send her to the kitchen. “Call the police and tell them someone broke into your home, but that he’s contained.”

She hesitated for a second, then rushed away and called. After turning the guy around and dragging him over to prop against the couch so they could get the front door open, Jeremy stepped into the kitchen.

CeCe hung up her wall phone. “They’re on the way.”

Jeremy walked over to her but kept his body where he could watch the intruder for movement. “Have any idea what he wants?”

She shook her head. “He asked me if I was a statue at the park Sunday.”

That damn photo in the newspaper. “Someone in your office must have given out your address.”

“They’re not supposed to and why would he go to that trouble? I mean, I don’t drive a fancy car or live in an expensive home and—” She paused in the middle of arguing. Her thought process ended with the realization of why a stalker would track down her home address. What color she’d regained flushed from her face again. “Do you think he came here to… attack me.”

“I don’t know.” The guy didn’t hit Jeremy as a stalker or petty thief. He was too professional feeling.

Jeremy ignored the disconcerting sensation that something was odd here and pulled CeCe into his arms before her knees folded. “It’s okay. He’s going to jail as soon as the police get here.”

She hooked her arms around his neck and held on as if he was her only lifeline.

Jeremy hugged her and rubbed her back to calm her, but he had to do something with his weapon before the police arrived. He eased her over to sit at the kitchen table then crossed to the cabinets where he slipped his weapon onto a high shelf inside. During missions for BAD, he carried every conceivable weapon known to man, but when in civilian mode Jeremy was subject to the laws of this country that stated a prior convicted felon could not carry a weapon. Since BAD technically did not exist, he couldn’t claim his felonies were part of his job and committed while in the service of his country.

He turned back to CeCe to find her gazing intently between him and the cabinet. “What are you doing?”

Jeremy considered what he could tell her on the way back to where she sat. He dropped down in front of her. “The gun belongs to a friend of mine who asked me to keep it for him while he was out of the country. I grabbed it when I saw the guy climb into your yard. I don’t have a permit to carry. No point in complicating things.”

She was still too pale and the skin on her arm beneath his fingers had chilled. Part of the problem was the skimpy outfit she had on.

“Sit tight.” He got a lap blanket out of the living room, checked their prisoner, who hadn’t made a sound, and came back to the kitchen. Wrapping the soft blanket around her shoulders, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“I’ll get you some water.” On the way to the sink, Jeremy glanced at the perp again. The more he studied her unwanted visitor, the more he thought he knew him. Not an encouraging sign considering what Jeremy did for BAD.

He’d like to go through the intruder’s pockets to look for anything that would explain why he had broken into CeCe’s house, but CeCe might wonder why he’d do that.

Plus, if this guy was some sort of professional he wouldn’t be carrying identification.

Jeremy had just handed the water to CeCe when flashing lights pierced the sheer drapes covering her living room windows. Uniformed officers showed up at the front door by the time Jeremy reached it to let them in. He handed the Glock to the police, gave both officers a quick rundown of what happened, and told them he had defense training and got the jump on the guy.

The police replaced the duct tape with handcuffs and carried their perp out to the cruiser.

This guy’s lack of ability to speak saved Jeremy from finding out if CeCe would have backed up his lie about having a weapon. He hated to put her in that position, but the only other option would have been to explain why he had a criminal record.

Couldn’t do that unless he wanted BAD to come looking for his head.

The police took CeCe’s statement. She hesitated once when they mentioned her having to testify in court. That was easy to understand. She was afraid to see the thug again, but Jeremy would pull strings to be with her when that day came.

An hour later, Jeremy closed the door after the last officer left. The intruder was on his way to the Marietta City lockup and bail wouldn’t be set before tomorrow morning.

Jeremy walked to the kitchen where CeCe sat at the table, silent as a trapped mouse.

He didn’t think the company she contracted from would just willingly hand over her address to anyone, but he couldn’t find out more until tomorrow when Double Take was open. Right now, CeCe needed comfort more than questions.

Jeremy asked, “Do you want to call your brother?”

“No.” She glanced up, eyes widening with fear, then must have realized how that sounded—like she was afraid of her brother. “He would pack me up and have me moved before daylight.”

Jeremy couldn’t fault her brother for that since the idea of bundling her off somewhere safe had crossed his mind more than once tonight.

“I-I don’t want to stay here tonight,” she whispered.

As if he’d let her stay alone tonight. “You can stay with me.”

“What about dinner?” She gave him a shaky smile that teetered close to tears. “I’m never going to pay all my debts to you at the rate I’m going.”

“You don’t owe me a thing.” He walked over to pull her up out of the chair. “But I won’t turn down dinner together.” He kissed her gently. “We’ll order in at my house.”

She wrapped her arms around his back, hugging fiercely. He hated that she was still so shaken by the encounter.

When she pulled away to look up at him, he saw hope warming her eyes. Hope that he’d go along with the idea of an affair behind locked doors?

If she asked him right now, he would deny her nothing. Seeing her in danger had vanished any thoughts of his earlier decision to break things off now before it was too late.

In fact, when he’d heard her life being threatened Jeremy realized it was too late to walk away clean. He’d have died a thousand deaths tonight if anything had happened to her.

Letting her go would be the final death of his soul.

She chewed on her lip, indecision warring again in her gaze. “I’m really glad you were here tonight and I don’t want you to take this wrong, but I have to ask you something.” Her voice shook nervously.

“Ask.” He had an idea what she was going to say. She hadn’t liked it one bit when he’d told her they’d have dinner as friends. He considered jumping in first to let her know she meant much more than anyone he’d ever considered a friend, but she didn’t give him a chance.

“Is there a legal reason you can’t get a gun permit, Jeremy?”

“WHAT DO YOU mean you couldn’t get Dorvan sprung?” Starface adjusted the listening volume on his Bluetooth headset, not believing his ears. “It’s nine in the f**king morning! They’ve had him twelve hours.” He stomped around his apartment in midtown Atlanta. He’d been up all night trying to find out what had happened to Dorvan.

Now he wanted to know why one of the best defense attorneys in the Southeast couldn’t get bail set.

“Marietta hasn’t set bail”—his asthmatic legal counsel spoke in short phrases and a voice too soft to belong to the barracuda this man could be in a courtroom—“because the FBI showed up… early this morning.” He wheezed softly. “They took Dorvan before the courts opened.”