Secretly Craving You(7)

She had never been afraid coming home late, but something felt wrong tonight. Listening, she heard nothing except the calls of cicadas and crickets along with the hum of distant traffic. Further down, someone walked their dog, and a jogger passed through Pulaski Square.

Emily climbed the steps onto her veranda. The front door stood open a crack. She froze. What the hell? Someone had broken in? A chill lanced through her and she ran back down the steps, stumbling halfway down. She grabbed onto the iron balustrade to keep from falling, her heart tripping along.

"Oh shit," she hissed over and over as she ran to her neighbor's house across the street. Fumbling with her cell phone, she dialed the police.

Who could've broken into her house? A random burglar or the person who'd murdered Jared?

* * * *

Forty-five minutes later, the cops had searched Emily's house, but found no intruder inside. However, one of the windows by the back door had been shattered from the outside. Apparently, the maniac had only left the front door open to let her know immediately he'd been there. When the police escorted her inside the house, she found nothing of value missing, not even her jewelry, but she did discover a few things out of place or knocked over, as if someone had been searching for something.

This couldn't have been Nick entering and searching her house again. He'd used a lock pick. Plus, he hadn't overturned anything or left a trace he'd been there. Very different from the current circumstance. The psycho who'd broken in tonight must have been the man Nick had talked about—the murderer who wanted some object Jared had. She shivered, nausea welling up inside her.

While the police searched for fingerprints around the broken window, she dug out the number Nick left and punched it into her cell phone. No answer. And his voicemail box was full.

"Dammit." She had to get in contact with him.

The cops were going to stay while she packed a bag so she could go to her friend Tia's house, but they received another emergency call. She assured them she'd be leaving within five minutes. One of the officers had been nice enough to nail a spare board over the broken window. She'd have to get an alarm system installed ASAP.

As she was packing her overnight bag, her home phone rang. She picked it up and the caller ID read restricted. Who could that be?

She frowned and placed the phone against her ear. "Hello?"

"Where is it?" asked the benign-sounding male voice.

"What? You must have the wrong number."

"Where is the Clach Torach, Emily?" he questioned in a more forceful tone.

A spider-like chill crawled down her spine. Was this the bastard who'd broken into her home and searched it? He knew her name, but she didn't recognize his voice. "I don't know what you're talking about. Who is this?" she demanded.

"Don't lie to me! I know you have it."

Oh shit! Clearly this freak was insane. She shivered. Why would he think she had something he wanted? Somehow this was linked to Jared's death.

"If you don't give it to me, you'll regret it. You better find it! I'll call you tomorrow and tell you where to bring it." The phone went dead.

Chills racking her body, she dropped the phone as if it were venomous. "Oh my god." Nick had been right. Some bastard had killed Jared over an ancient object.

Her fingers trembling, she dialed Nick's number again on her cell. She counted three rings. "Answer the phone. Please!"

An automated female voice came on again, telling her the voicemail box was full.

"Dammit, Nick. Why don't you clean out your voicemails?" She clicked the off button.

Since she'd first met him, she'd known he worked undercover. Could he be working a deep cover case now and that's why he wasn't answering?

She remembered what he'd said when he'd answered his phone in her living room. He'd mentioned something about Rebel's and she'd wondered what that was. Maybe she could find him there.

At her desk in the corner of the living room, she powered up her laptop and went online. A search for Rebel's Atlanta came up with a nightclub. Could that be where he was currently working? She had to give it a shot.

Since he was undercover, she'd have to be careful approaching him…if he was even there. She'd have to pretend to be someone else. And who knew what name he used?

Emily paused. Was this a smart decision? What other choice did she have if she wanted to remain safe? She couldn't stay with friends or family, putting their lives in danger from this psycho murderer.

Nick was a police officer who could protect her and he had a personal interest in this situation. If anyone could stop this bastard and put him behind bars, it was Nick.

To approach him in a nightclub, she'd have to pretend to be a sexy chick who wouldn't be shy about hitting on him. She'd need to look like someone he'd have a one night stand with. Since she'd been away from the dating scene so long—except for one hideous blind date—she had no clue how to be hot and flirty. But she could bluff.