Stolen(62)

“Okay.” About Webber, he guessed. It was only yesterday, in the limo, that Webber had made it clear he had some kind of past with Caity, but it seemed an eternity had gone by since then. While Spense hadn’t forgotten about Webber’s remarks, he’d been so busy with mountain lions and autopsies and missing bodyguards, there simply hadn’t been time to dwell on Grady Webber and Caity.

Grady Webber and Caity.

It hit him now, though, and his blood rose, rushing through his body like a river with the floodgates open.

He released Caity. Working on steadying his breathing, he paced the perimeter of the room twice before returning to her side. “What’s up?”

It didn’t bother him that she hadn’t told him about Webber before now. He and Caity hadn’t been a couple long enough to exhaust all their war stories. He certainly hadn’t shared all of his with her yet. Though they hadn’t begun their transformation from “frenemies” into lovers until a few short months ago, it seemed to Spense they’d been together an entire lifetime. Maybe the things they’d been through together had accelerated the bonding process, or maybe, as corny as it sounded, there was truth to the notion that we all have a soul mate.

Anyway, they’d faced death together more than once, and when his life had “flashed before his eyes,” it was mostly moments he’d shared with Caity. The plain truth was he didn’t think much of his past before her, and he didn’t want to picture a future without her.

So while he wasn’t bothered that Caity hadn’t yet told him about Grady Webber, the suspicion that Webber might’ve hurt her really got to him. The way her posture stiffened up around him, the wary look on her face every time Webber came near her made Spense want to wrap her in his arms and tell her he’d never let a creep like that hurt her again. He’d never let anyone hurt her again. “Is this about Webber?”

She nodded, and drawing a long breath, sat down on the bed.

“I hate the way that guy acts like he still has some sort of claim on you. It’s nothing I can call him on, or believe me, I would have. But I don’t like the way he talks to you, and I sure don’t like the way he looks at you.”

She grabbed his hand, gripping it tightly. “Exactly. And that’s not a new problem. When I was with him . . .” She looked away.

“It’s okay, hon. I’m a big boy. I know you’ve been with other guys.”

She met his gaze. “When I was with him, he acted like he owned me. And when we broke up, he still acted that way. And now . . .”

With their hands entwined, Caity proceeded to tell him, in the most matter-of-fact way possible, all about Dr. Grady Webber. The man who was supposed to be her teacher and mentor had come on to her when she was a doctor in training. She didn’t say she’d been especially vulnerable to the attentions of an older man because she was still devastated over the loss of her father, but it didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. Through the entire telling, Spense kept his thoughts centered, his hand on hers, and his emotions in check.

Right up until she told him what happened yesterday at headquarters.

“He followed you into the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

A bomb detonated in his chest. “That son of a bitch.”

Caity’s grip on his hand tightened. “Not to worry. I’ve already handled it.”

He was on his feet, and she rose with him, still clinging to his hand.

“Spense, I said I handled it. It’s over.”

He pried her fingers off. At the closet, he grabbed his jacket and felt in the pocket until his keys jangled.

“Where are you going?”

He could see her breathing had accelerated.

He could see the worry in her eyes.

She should be worried.

About Webber.

She trailed him out into the hall. “I’m coming with you.”

She was barefoot. It was forty degrees outside. “Ten seconds.”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s how long I’m giving you to get your coat and shoes.”

She met his eyes. “It’s also how long I’m giving you to get a grip. Start counting.”

The drive over took seventeen minutes. Seventeen minutes during which Caity pleaded, cajoled, and begged him to keep a cool head. Seventeen minutes during which his blood got hotter and hotter until he could’ve sworn he had boiling water running through his veins. He shed his coat and cracked a window to let in cool air, but then saw Caity shivering. He rolled the window up again and turned on the heat. Perspiration dripped into his eyes, and he swatted it away with the back of his hand. “Warm enough?”