Their Virgin Secretary (Masters of Ménage #6)(49)

Except that noise hadn't been a byproduct of her dream. Had it? She'd heard another sound awfully like it since she crept from her bed.

Even if the noise had been real, that didn't mean someone had broken in. Old homes shifted and groaned. She had to get used to that fact. Her newish apartment in Chicago hadn't been noisy until the middle school kid living with his single mom above her had taken up the sax.

At the top of the stairs-the very stairs she'd seen in her dream-was a small umbrella holder. She'd noticed her grandmother's canes stashed there earlier in the day and she inched one out of the little bucket triumphantly. At least now she had some kind of weapon.

Sir barked again.

"Shh." She tried to shush him, but if she died because her puppy couldn't stay quiet, she was going to kill Kinley. She just was.

She managed to sneak to the first floor, wincing with each step down. Just another few tiptoes, and she would have her phone in hand. If she was simply hearing things, who cared? She was terrified, and if the police laughed at her, so be it. She wasn't going to put off calling for help just because she wasn't absolutely positive she was about to be killed.

As her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light filtering into the house from outside, she made out the small table in the kitchen where she'd stashed her phone. Ten steps to the table, then she could dash out the servant's door and call for help. It didn't matter that she was in her nightgown. This was New Orleans. Surely they'd seen freakier things than a woman in her PJs emblazoned with martini glasses and shoes all over it, decorated with the words Girls Night In across her boobs.

Once she was on the street, she wouldn't be alone, she prayed.

She was almost to the phone when the light over the back door flickered on, pouring light through the big kitchen window and blinding her for a moment.

Then she felt something-or someone-brush past her. Not around her ankles. Sir couldn't stir the air like that. No, this had been done by something terribly near her torso.

Belle screamed, the sound coming from deep in her gut. There was another loud crash, then something that sounded like metal wrenching, then a splintering sound. Sir barked madly, placing his little body in front of hers with as much of a menacing growl as four pounds of canine could manage.

Acting on pure instinct, Belle swung out, hefting the cane and trying desperately to whack whoever was coming after her.



       
         
       
        

"Belle, baby, stop," a familiar masculine voice commanded. Suddenly, warm, strong arms wrapped around her. "It's all right. It's just me."

Tate? When had he gotten here? How had he found her? Belle didn't care. She threw her arms around him, taking in his familiar scent, his comfort. His big body was warm and safe against hers.

"Let's go check the rest of the house to see if there's any sign of an intruder." Kellan brushed past her, leading Eric along. "Tate, don't take your eyes off her. If you see anything out of place, beat the shit out of it."

After a moment of fumbling against the wall, light flooded the L-shaped kitchen, and she could see again.

Tate's arms tightened around her. "Baby, what happened? You screamed, and we could hear you from outside."

"I think someone might have been in the house." Her words shook. Now that she knew she was safe, the adrenaline bled from her veins, leaving her weak with relief. "We should call the police."

Though she didn't know what they could tell her at this point. Whether there'd been some forced entry and where? Maybe she could hope for prints. Or maybe they would tell her there was no sign of anything other than her overactive imagination.

Kellan walked back in the room. "It was just the screen banging open and shut with the wind. Looks like it's bent and the latch is broken. The door itself was locked but the screen made a hell of a lot of noise. I'll jimmy it so it will stay secure for tonight."

"All the downstairs windows are locked," Eric said a minute later. "I checked. Are you sure someone was actually in the house?"

"I felt someone run past me." It had been a light touch, a stir of the air, then nothing.

Kellan looked around the room. "Did you do a thorough search of the premises when you got here?"

Why was he using his lawyer voice on her? She'd heard him use that quiet tone on many a skittish witness. "I checked a couple of rooms, but it was getting late and I was too tired to look everywhere. I focused on the office and master bedroom since I'm using them."

"What is this?" Eric picked up Sir, frowning. "Is this one of those puppies from the wedding?"