EIGHTEEN
Tension gripped Nathan’s shoulders and crawled down his back, spreading through his whole body, as he stood next to Erin across the street from Dad’s house.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
He inched closer to Erin. After what he’d just overheard about an incident she experienced in Washington, his protective instincts had kicked into overdrive. Erin had tried to hide that the call had upset her, so he wouldn’t press her for more information now. She was right—they were here and needed to focus on the task at hand. The sooner they figured out a few things here in the Boston area, the faster they could focus on what happened back in Washington as well as in Montana.
“Are you ready?” He glanced at her.
She nodded.
Together they crossed the street, then walked up the sidewalk to the front door. Palms sweating, Nathan paused. Erin turned to the side, watching the neighborhood.
Would he find answers here? He tugged his father’s key ring out of his pocket and thrust the key into the keyhole, holding his breath as if there was any doubt it would work. It clicked, and he turned the knob and cracked the door open, hesitating before pushing it all the way. The back of his neck prickled.
“What are you waiting for?” she whispered.
He didn’t want to give onlooking neighbors cause for concern, because after all, he was simply stopping by his father’s house to check on things while Dad was in the hospital. Still, he slipped his gun out of its holster, glad he’d brought the weapon along.
“I’m just listening to my gut. Stay right behind me.” He opened the door and slipped inside.
Erin kept close on his heels, then stepped to the side against the wall. “Oh my...”
His sentiments exactly.
Furniture had been overturned. Lamps broken. Pictures ripped from the walls and thrown on the floor. Shattered glass covered the area rug.
Erin sucked in a breath. Nathan’s heart pounded at the sight of the living room. He flipped the lights on to get a better look.
“Should we call the police?”
“You call them while I check out the rest of—”
A thump sounded from somewhere in the house. Nathan stiffened and glanced at Erin. Her eyes widened.
He lifted his weapon, prepared to clear the house. “Stay here.”
“Be careful,” she whispered and bent down to pick up a fallen brass lampstand. She held it like a bat, then shrugged. “I need a weapon too.” In the other hand, she held her cell and called 911.
He hated leaving her alone, but he wouldn’t take her with him to face off with whoever remained in the house. He crept forward across the space and tried to avoid stepping on glass or anything else that might make a sound. He’d only visited the house twice since Dad had moved here, and tried to remember, to visualize the layout in his head. Three bedrooms down the hall at the back of the house. The master at the front. Dad used one of the bedrooms for an office.
A clank resounded from the back.
Whoever had wrecked the house was still there. Nathan’s pulse kicked up as he quietly approached the back bedroom, his gun raised. He stopped in the doorway to watch a muscular guy with red hair pulling books from a shelf against the far wall, too focused on his task to realize that someone else had entered the house.
“Police. Hold it right there.” Nathan spoke through gritted teeth. “Lift your hands where I can see them.”
Instead of complying, the man whipped around and threw a heavy book toward Nathan’s head. He dodged it as Ginger Man shifted to grip the shelf, groaning as he rocked it forward, then he shoved the whole bookshelf over. It came toward where Nathan stood watching. Books filled his vision as they spilled out everywhere. Nathan stepped back so he wouldn’t get trapped under the shelf as the man scrambled over the top, using it as a jump point to dive right into Nathan.
Ginger Man’s body slammed into Nathan, and they both crashed to the floor. The added weight of the man on top knocked the breath from Nathan. And the gun from his hand. Pain ignited in his back where he’d gotten the stitches. A hefty fist came toward him and he twisted, then kicked the man completely off. Nathan scrambled to his feet, climbing over books and broken shards of glass littering the floor.
His gun had slid under the one shelf that remained standing. Nathan dove toward Ginger Man while dodging another punch. He landed his own smack in the man’s face. Blood burst from the man’s nose, but he didn’t seem to notice as he kicked Nathan in the gut, then jabbed him in the solar plexus.
Doubling over, Nathan pushed past the pain. He couldn’t let Ginger Man get away. Reaching under the shelf for his gun, he wrapped his hand around the weapon and jockeyed to stand in the doorway, blocking Ginger Man’s escape.
The man’s lips twisted into a smirk as he lifted a chair and tossed it through the window. He jumped through the opening before Nathan could reach him. The man appeared to be a hardened criminal, experienced at avoiding the law, and knew Nathan wouldn’t shoot him.
At the window, he watched the redheaded man race across the backyard and jump the fence. If Nathan was going to catch him, he’d better go now. He eyed the shards still lining the window frame and prepared to jump through.