30. Ice Cold

Nadia

Iwoke when the bed shook mightily.

It took a beat for me to realize it was because Riggs had left it in a hurry.

I knew this because it was really dark since Riggs let the shades down, but even so, his even darker shadow was beside the bed and moving like he was putting on his jeans.

It was only then I heard the scratching on the window.

I sat up, and like he had the vision of a cat, his finger was on my lips as I opened my mouth to speak.

"Hush, princess. And put clothes on," he ordered quietly.

I was naked, considering, mid-martini, we got busy again, and since we had emotion to work out, that busy was busy.

Now I started to do what he said, but we both froze when the scratching at the window by the reading nook stopped, but it started almost immediately at the window on the bed side, down by the bathroom.

That was new.

And even creepier.

Were there two of them?

There had to be. No other explanation. No one could make it around the cabin that quickly.

Riggs grabbed my phone off the charger, found my wrist then slapped it in my palm, wrapping my fingers around it. Then he moved away only to come back and sit on the edge of the bed to put his boots on.

I was trying to figure out if I should call the sheriff's office first, or get dressed, when the scratching at the window by the bathroom became the same by the living room.

Oh shit.

Were there three? Or had the first one moved around?

I slid out of bed, feeling for clothes with my toes, and ran into my dress.

I bent and snatched it up.

Riggs let out a low whistle, and I looked his way.

"Call. Whisper," he commanded in his own whisper.

Then I stood, fixed with panic as his shadow moved to the storage closet, he went in it and came out of it incredibly quick.

The panic part came when he headed down the back hall.

He'd reinstalled it, so the door opened without a sound, but still, I knew he was opening it.

Shit!

Frantically, I searched for my clothes, ran into my panties, tugged them on, found my bra on the back of the armchair in the living room (Riggs really wanted rid of that, it seemed, because he'd thrown it a long way). I struggled into it, then I went back to my dress I'd tossed on the bed. I wasted no time pulling it over my head.

After that, I sank to my bottom beside the bed, yanked the quilt over my head (just in case they could see inside somehow, I didn't want them to see my screen light up), and I activated the phone.

I went to favorites, hit the number and put it to my ear.

I jumped when I heard a thud against the outside wall by the kitchen.

"Fret County Sheriff's Office," a man answered.

"Hi. This is Nadia Antonov," I whispered. "Out at the Weaver Cabin on County Road Thirty. I have trespassers scratching at my windows. I'm with Doc"—another thud, Lord—"Riggs, and he's gone out to, I don't know, deal with them."

"Sending a cruiser out to you now. Are you safe?"

"Yes…"—something heavy hit the front porch—"but I think maybe you should hurry."

"Got it. Stay inside. Stay safe."

"Um…okay. I don't think I can talk anymore. He's trying to be stealthy."

Though, I had a feeling he started that way, but now, not so much.

"Fine, but please remain on the line," the man said.

"Okay," I replied just as I heard some scrambling on the front porch.

That sound eventually stopped, thirty seconds slid by, a minute, two, five, an eternity. I was pretty sure I was going to either scream or throw up when the deputy asked, "You there?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Okay, unit en route. ETA ten minutes."

"Right," I kept whispering.

I heard more noise I couldn't decipher from the front porch, someone talking I thought was Riggs, but it was so low, I couldn't tell. But it was a man.

After that, nothing.

Until I saw lights come on inside from under the quilt.

I pushed it off, jumped to my feet and turned to see Riggs sauntering shirtless from the back hall to where his Clash tee was on the floor by the bed (apparently, I didn't have his toss strength, because I'd really wanted to be rid of that too).

As he tugged it on, I told the deputy in my normal voice, "Riggs is back inside, and he's fine."

"Status of the situation?" he asked.

"I don't know," I replied just as Riggs came to a stop in front of me and held out his hand. "He'll tell you."

I gave him the phone.

He put it to his ear and started moving again, turning on lights and talking. "Who's this?" Then, "Hey, Raul. Got two punks tied up on my front porch. Are you sending a cruiser? We're pressing charges." Pause then, "Right. Thanks."

He beeped off my phone and tossed it so it landed on the couch.

"Tied up?" I asked.

"Nabbed digital cable," he told me, snatching the keys off the hook by the door (he'd given Brenda strict instructions, so unlike his storms, mine could only be opened, inside and outside, with a key).

The cable thing was genius.

He unlocked and opened the front door, unlocked the storm and flipped on the front lights.

He then strode out.

I ran to the back hall, slipped on my Birkenstocks, then raced to the front door.

I looked through the screen and ornate wrought iron scrollwork (Brenda had an eye), and saw two boys, probably around sixteen, one tall and scrawny who still looked more boy than man, but when he caught up, he'd be cute. The other one was much shorter, already built and already cute.

They both sat on their asses, back-to-back, and had white computer cable wrapped firmly and tightly around their wrists that were behind their backs, as well as around their ankles.

I couldn't say I'd paid much attention to Dave and Brenda's Wi-Fi setup, but it was clear they got the ultra-long cords so they'd have locational options, because, yeesh. That was a lot of cable.

"It's okay, honey. These sacks of shit aren't going anywhere," Riggs called.

I stepped out on the porch.

Alas, in the kerfuffle, four of Brenda's pots had turned over, and one had fallen off the porch. There was potting soil and flowers strewn everywhere.

I'd do my best with those tomorrow.

I went to where Riggs stood over the boys. When I arrived, he curved an arm around my waist and pulled me into his side.

"I guess Dave wanted choices as to where he put his router," I noted.

I felt Riggs's regard and looked up at him.

"What?" I asked.

"Princess, I just wired five cameras in your place last week. Left the overage in your storeroom since Dave insisted on paying for it."

"Oh."

He started laughing silently.

"How'd you cut it?" I asked.

"Carry an army knife."

"Oh," I repeated.

He kept laughing, still silently.

Both the boys were staring at their gym shoes looking a mixture of freaked and pissed (though more freaked, then again, there were two of them, one of Riggs, and they were the ones now tied up and facing what came next).

I pulled from Riggs, but he dogged me as I approached the shorter one and crouched carefully, due to my skirt.

"Hi, I'm Nadia."

He kept his gaze averted, but red was creeping up his neck toward his cheeks.

Mm-hmm.

Easy to be a punkass when you're not confronted with who you were punking.

Harder to have her right there.

"I get it might seem like fun to go into the woods and scare the crap out of a woman alone who you don't know, but just to say, my mother was murdered five months ago, and I loved her very much."

His gaze darted to me, it was wide, and the color reddened his entire face instantly.

"With age and maturity," I went on, "I hope you'll learn how cruel what you did is just normally. But maybe right now you can learn that you'll never have any idea what someone else is going through in their lives, so being a total dickhead is never okay, no matter how fun it might seem when you're hanging with your boy, thinking life in rural Washington is boring and looking for a thrill."

It took him a second to dig deep past his mortification to find the punk within before he asked bitterly, "You gonna press charges?"

"Absolutely," I replied. "I hear the fines in these parts for trespassing are pretty harsh, and carry jail time, so I hope you didn't have any assignments due on Monday. And I hope your parents aren't too pissed that they'll probably have to dip into savings to deal with your crap."

The red in his face got redder.

Yes, his parents were going to be pissed.

I was done so I stood and turned to Riggs.

"Ice cold," he murmured, his lips tipped up in approval.

I wanted to think my return smile was lethal, but it was probably just normal.

"I'm going to go inside," I shared. "It's chilly out here. Do you want me to bring a throw out for you or something?"

"I'm good," he replied.

"I'm just going to put on some more clothes. I'll be back out in a second."

"You got it, honey."

I rolled up to my toes to brush my lips on his.

Then I walked on my cute Birks inside to change clothes, pleased as punch the ghost of Roosevelt Whitaker (or Sarah) was finally laid to rest.