27. Colt

27

COLT

Hell. The last thing I wanted to tell Ridley was that her van had been trashed. I’d gotten photos from my techs, and the inside would need to be completely rebuilt. I didn’t even want to think about the time and money that would take. Hopefully her insurance would handle the money part, at least.

Ridley blinked rapidly, and I knew she was fighting to keep her tears at bay. Her hands fisted, fingernails pressing into her palms. The fact that she was battling so hard to stop the sobs from hitting only wrecked me more.

Her eyes closed for a moment, and I watched as she slowed her breathing, fighting back everything she was feeling. Back into some vault inside herself that she wasn’t about to let me into. Something about that grated. I wanted to know what she hid in there. What she was feeling now and then. I wanted to know…everything.

Ridley’s eyes opened, that startling deep blue locking on me. “My laptop?”

My back teeth ground together. “Gone.”

She cursed, and Tater let out a sound of agreement from her carrier that made Bowser’s ears twitch. “My desk. There’s a locked drawer. Did the bastard get in there?”

My brows pulled together, and I shifted, pulling out my phone. I hit our lead evidence tech’s contact. It rang twice before she answered. “Sheriff,” she greeted.

“Hey, Tricia. How’s it going?”

“It’s going. I’d say we're about halfway done. No prints other than the ones I’m assuming are our vic’s.”

Something about Tricia referring to Ridley as a victim didn’t sit right. It was the kind of thing that was said day after day, but when it was Ridley, it just felt wrong . I swallowed down the urge to bite my lead evidence tech’s head off. “Ridley said there’s a locked drawer in her desk. The unsub get into that one?”

“Not unless he’s Houdini. It’s still locked up tight.”

My gaze moved to Ridley, her own was locked on me, looking for any sort of sign. I shook my head, and she let out a long breath. It was as if I could see the relief sweeping through her in a wave.

I forced my focus back to Tricia and the task at hand. “Think you’ll finish tonight?”

Voices sounded in the background, the familiar chatter of the techs as they worked. “Should wrap it up in about four hours.”

“Can you have someone drop the van by my place when you’re done?” I asked.

Tricia was quiet for a moment. “You want to do a once-over?”

“No,” I said quickly. The last thing I needed was Tricia thinking I was second-guessing her work. “Ridley’s staying here.”

The beat of silence was longer this time, and I started to wonder if the second-guessing would’ve been better. Tricia cleared her throat. “Sure thing. Max and I can drop it off when we’re finished.”

“Thank you. Send any reports to my email, and make sure you file the paper copies too.” I wanted to be certain we had backups in at least three places from now on, because whoever this was didn't want us to have all the pieces.

“You got it. Anything else?” Tricia asked.

“Nope. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Colt.” And with that, she hung up.

I pulled the phone away from my ear, locking it and sliding it into my pocket. “What’s in the drawer, Chaos?”

She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to Bowser as she scratched behind his ears. “My research for the case.”

Interesting. I itched to see what she had, to know if there was some piece that we’d missed. “They’ll bring the van out here when they’re done processing everything.”

Ridley’s shoulders slumped, and she suddenly looked so damned tired. “Thanks.”

“Come on, I’ll show you to your room.” I picked up Tater’s carrier and headed down the hall.

“Your house is stunning,” Ridley said.

Her voice was neither soft nor loud but the sound of it still hit. And I liked the words a little too much. “Took way too long to build,” I admitted. Largely because I’d been an obsessive asshole when it came to construction, making sure everything was just right. Sometimes it felt like the house was a piece of my soul.

“Worth it,” she murmured. “Feels like you’re floating on water.”

Which was exactly what I’d wanted. I led Ridley toward the end of the hall, picking the guest room closest to mine. I told myself it was just a precaution, but I knew I was a liar.

Opening the door, I stepped inside. The bed faced a wall of windows so Ridley would be able to see the sun reflecting off the lake each morning. There was a chair in one corner that was more decorative than practical and a dresser on the opposite wall.

“There’s a bathroom through there.” I gestured to another open door.

But Ridley stood stock-still in the open doorway. “It’s gorgeous. I—thank you.”

“It’s no big thing.” I set the cat carrier on the bed so Bowser wouldn’t have easy access to it. “Let me get the litter box. We can put it in the bathroom and close the room off from Bowser. Do you, uh, need something to sleep in?”

The barest hint of pink stained Ridley’s cheeks. For a woman who’d given me shit when I walked up on her taking a shower, the fact that she was now blushing was adorable.

She nodded. “That’d be good.”

“Coming right up. Bathroom is stocked with toiletries, but let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“Okay,” Ridley whispered.

I hated the softness in her tone, the lack of fire. It made me want to wrap her in my arms and tell her everything would be okay, which was goddamned ridiculous. So instead, I strode out of the room and toward my own.

Heading for my dresser, I pulled out a worn tee and some sweats. I went for the smallest stuff I had even though Ridley would still be swimming in them. But it was the best I could do. Hopefully, the asshole who’d hurt her hadn’t ruined her clothes too.

Dipping out of my room and back to the guest room, I saw that the bathroom door was now closed. I crossed to the bed, Tater glaring at me the entire time. “I’m trying to help,” I muttered to the cat as I set the clothes on the bed.

Tater hissed in response, swiping at the carrier’s metal grate.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got some stuff for you too.”

I turned back and headed for the kitchen, snapping my fingers for Bowser to follow. He didn’t come right away. He was too busy gazing at the bathroom door longingly. My damned dog was already half in love with Ridley.

“Bowser,” I hissed.

He glanced my way but didn’t move.

I sent him my best I-mean-business stare. My dog wasn’t moved.

I gave in and asked, “Want a treat?”

Those ears twitched, and he lumbered to his feet. I rolled my eyes and headed for the kitchen. Bowser ambled in behind me, and I found him a rawhide to keep him busy and out of Ridley’s room. A pile of cat stuff lay on the kitchen table with a note from Trey.

Got all the essentials and took the Bow-Man out around eight-thirty. Hope Ridley’s okay.—T

I pawed through the bags and scowled. The essentials apparently included half a dozen toys, a scratching post, five kinds of treats, and a catnip plant. Trey was making too much money on the side playing poker if he'd bought all this.

Still, I grabbed the cat box, litter, and a couple of the toys, and headed back to the guest room. The door to the bathroom was still closed, and I could hear water running inside, but the pile of clothes was gone.

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure if I should stay or go. I glanced at my watch. It was almost two in the morning. Dr. Sapra said Ridley needed to be woken up every three hours and asked simple questions. If there was any confusion, I needed to bring her back.

The thought of that had my gut churning, so I distracted myself by setting up the litter box in the corner and pulling the tags off a couple of toys. Tater simply watched like I was her damn servant.

The water shut off, and I straightened, bracing as the door opened. Ridley stepped out, her sun-streaked blond hair piled on top of her head. I’d been right about the clothes; they dwarfed her. But I hadn’t been prepared for the sight of her wearing something that was mine.

The way my chest tightened and some sort of demented male pride surged. It was fucked, the way it felt right . Because I barely knew the woman opposite me.

“Hi,” she squeaked.

“Hey.” I cleared my throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Not bad, all things considered. A little jumpy maybe,” Ridley admitted.

That had any thoughts of how good she looked wearing my clothes fleeing. Of course she was jumpy. She’d been attacked. And the marks on her throat, which were beginning to darken, were just more proof of that. “It’s normal. Your body’s going to be hypervigilant for a while.”

Ridley nodded. “Makes sense.” She crossed to the door, shutting it and letting Tater out to sniff around. I thought for sure the cat would jump off the bed and explore, but instead, she went and curled up on one of the pillows.

“I guess she’s tired too,” Ridley mumbled.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” I suggested. “I’ll be back in three hours to check on you.” I started for the door, but she stopped me.

“Law Man?”

I turned.

“Could you stay? Just until I fall asleep?” Ridley suddenly looked like she wanted to take back those words. “Sorry. That was stupid?—”

“Not stupid,” I ground out, crossing to the chair and lowering myself into it. “Sleep, Chaos. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

I’d make damned sure of it.