A jolt of panic raced through her. She sat bolt upright, and had a confusing few seconds staring blankly at the empty space on the bed before her brain fully woke up and overruled her irrational heart.
Of course Chase isn't there. I kicked him out.
I can't believe he actually left.
She realized that part of her had been utterly convinced that he would find some way to sneak back in. At some deep level, she'd been expecting to wake up to his cocky, unrepentant grin and a torrent of nonsense explaining why he'd simply had to spend the night with her after all.
Connie checked under the bed. Still no Chase.
He really is honoring our deal. I slept with him, so now he'll leave me alone.
Just like I wanted.
I should feel happy about this.
Then she heard someone moving around quietly in the second room of the apartment, on the other side of the bedroom door.
Her heart skipped a beat, even as she buried her face in her hands and groaned. Of course he hadn't actually left. No doubt
he was filling her tiny combined kitchen/living room with roses or iguanas or God only knew what he considered to be a romantic gesture.
Without bothering to pull on her robe, Connie marched over to the bedroom door and yanked it open. “Chase, I told you—”
It wasn't Chase.
Connie recoiled so hard she bruised her naked butt against the door handle. “Who the hell are you?”
The man turned quickly at her shout. He was tall and muscled, with short brown hair in a vaguely military cut. There was something about his dark eyes that made some deep, primal part of Connie's psyche cower back in instinctive fear. Whoever he was, this man was dangerous.
“Chase!” Connie grabbed the first thing that came to hand—a pillow—and flung it at the intruder. “Help!”
The man ducked the pillow, but Connie had already seized her bedside lamp. Brandishing it like a baseball bat, she charged him, swinging for his head with her full strength.
Reflexively, the man flung up one hand, seizing the body of the lamp. White fire flared. Connie yelped, dropping the lamp as the suddenly hot metal bit her skin.
“Please,” the man said quickly, holding up both hands. “Do not be alarmed. I mean you no harm.”
Wide-eyed, Connie stared at the scorched lamp now lying on the carpet, then back at the man. “What are you?”
“A friend of Chase.” The man sighed, rubbing his face. “I am very sorry, but I am afraid I have no choice but to start this conversation again. Please forgive me.”
Connie would have backed away from him, but she was abruptly frozen by his burning eyes. Terror-stricken, she could do nothing to resist as he reached out to touch her forehead.
Fire flared.
Connie blinked. There was a strange man in her front room.
However, he was kneeling on the ground with his eyes closed and his hands in the air. He looked more like a hostage than an intruder.
“Chase asked me to guard you while he ran an errand,” the man said, very rapidly, as she drew in her breath to yell. “He was worried that Sammy Smiles might attack you in your sleep. I am Fire Commander Ash, of the East Sussex Fire and Rescue Service. May I show you my identification?”
Connie eyed him warily, casting around for a weapon. For some reason, her bedside lamp was lying in the middle of the floor. She picked it up. The metal was oddly warm in her hand as she held the lamp high, ready to bring it down on the man's head if he was lying. “Okay. But slowly.”
Connie tensed as the man reached into his jacket, but true to his word he just pulled out a leather wallet. He flipped it open, silently displaying the metal shield inside.
Feeling a little silly, she lowered her impromptu weapon. “Oh. Um. Nice to meet you, Commander Ash. I'm sorry if I startled you. Chase didn't tell me you were coming.”
“So I gathered,” Commander Ash said, a touch grimly. “I believe I shall have words with him about that.”