No One Left To Tell

A loud pop. Shattered glass.

Cold as she was, pain shot through her joints when the man grabbed her in a viselike grip. He pulled her off the ground. She felt his warm breath against her neck. With elbows pinned to her chest, all she could do was flail her legs, kicking at her attacker.

She shrieked, not from fright, but from anger and frustration. A low, guttural sound. Writhing and twisting, she felt blood rush to her face. Her heels jabbed at the man's legs, striking without mercy. If she hurt him badly enough, he'd drop her. Only a matter of time before she found the sweet spot. With his grunt, she ramped up her assault.

'Damn it! Let me go, you bastard!'

The man had his hand on the barrel of her gun, trying to wrench it free.

'Hey, hey, stop it! Ow!' he protested. 'Is this how you greet all your guests?'

Raven stopped. Ob, my God! She knew that voice. The man's hand pried the weapon from her grasp— only after she let him win.

'Christian? I thought—' She didn't bother to finish. Her heartbeat still hammered her eardrums.

He loosened his grip and stepped aside, setting her near the step to the front porch. 'Be careful. I dropped the wine bottle. Glass is everywhere.' Looking down at the robe and her feet, he asked, 'Are you barefoot?'

Ignoring his question, she turned toward him. 'Someone broke into my house.'

A fleeting and cynical notion took hold, her cop instincts hard to deny. What if Christian had been the one in her house, then conveniently pretended to have just arrived? Her brow furrowed as she gave the idea shape, staring at him in the dark. Yet even with his face in shadow, she heard the concern in his voice.

'Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?' After brushing back her damp hair, he reached for her shoulders. 'You're wet. You must be freezing.'

God, how she wanted to believe in Christian. Being right about him meant her trust barometer was fully functional. But even now, she heard Tony's voice in her head, reminding her how dangerous this man was. Raven loved being a cop, but at times, she hated how it'd changed her over the years. Had she grown so jaded that she couldn't trust her own heart?

Before she delved deeper into that thought, he handed her the gun, then scooped her up in his arms, lifting her without effort. Stepping around the corner, he carried her through the kitchen door and slammed it shut with an elbow. With all his fussing, she felt ridiculous. But as she relaxed into his shoulder, smelling his subtle cologne mixed with the leather of his jacket, everything felt right. She'd been on her own for so long, it felt good to be taken care of for a change.

'Bedroom?' he asked.

Still stunned by his bold gesture, all she could do was point down the hall, eyes wide. Then her damned cop brain took charge.

'Christian. Please, I'm fine. You don't have to—'

Before she finished her objection, he'd yanked back the covers of her bed and set her down. She began to thaw the instant he pulled the quilt to her chin, more a reaction to him than the fine insulating capabilities of her comforter. But as he stared down at her, his confident expression melted like the chill from her skin.

Suddenly realizing where he was, he stood abruptly, then shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. Christian's sudden uneasiness surprised her. She fought back a smile. Before now, 'cute' was not a word she would've ever associated with Christian Delacorte. But damned if he didn't have the word stamped across his forehead. In blaze orange!

He made her feel safe again. It felt good not to be alone. And by the way he avoided her gaze, she knew he felt awkward with the unexpected intimacy. So, you're human after all, Delacorte!

'I'm gonna look through the rest of the house, if you don't mind, make sure we're alone.' He narrowed his eyes. 'Can I make you some hot tea? Or something?'

'Please. The teapot is on the stove,' she called down the hall after he'd slipped out. The cop in her added, 'And be careful what you touch. I'm gonna call for a team to dust for prints.'

Raven couldn't just sit, like some grand queen bee. Sliding from bed, she tightened her robe around her waist and gave the sash a tug. She picked up the phone from her nightstand and called the station house. A long shot, but maybe the bastard had left some fingerprints. Raven ended the call, knowing a team would be arriving soon. She had to get dressed.

'I'm just gonna rinse off, get the soap out of my hair,' she called to him. The idea of a cold-water rinse gave her a shiver, but the message on the mirror had to be preserved. More steam would cover it up. Maybe a blast of ice water to her scalp would jump-start her brain.

Stepping back into the bath, she found Christian staring at her mirror, his jaw tense. He'd started his search of her house where the whole thing began.

'So this wasn't a random break-in. The bastard killed Mickey.' He stared at Raven, trying to make a point. 'And he tossed a photograph into your dinner plans. Any connection? The man in the photo was a cop in uniform.'

'You're observant. A photograph of my father.'

She crossed her arms, amazed how he'd noticed so much in his short walk through the kitchen. A wet strand of hair fell across her face. With a finger, she tucked it behind an ear.

'If this wealthy bachelor gig doesn't work out, maybe I can find an opening for you in law enforcement.'

'Not exactly my thing, but thanks.' With his green eyes fixed on her, he pressed, 'Now answer my question.'

'Not sure I can. Just give me use of my bathroom and fix me that hot tea you promised. It'll give me time to think.' She led him by the arm and switched places in the cramped quarters.

Christian's stoic expression returned, as if she'd just given him the brush-off. But to his credit, he didn't interrogate her any longer. He turned toward the kitchen. A tinge of guilt gnawed at her, for what she'd thought about his intentions. Before he was out of eyesight, she called to him, peeking around the bathroom door.

'Christian?'

He looked over his shoulder, the concern for her safety still in his eyes. God, she hoped she wasn't imagining it.

'Thanks, for everything. I'm glad you're here.' And she meant every word.

A faint light from her bedroom painted his handsome face with warmth. His expression softened. A lazy curve to his lips broadened into a seductive grin.

And time stopped. Oh, that smile! Downright lethal.

His eyes locked on to hers in knowing silence. Suddenly, she became aware just how naked she was beneath her robe. She clutched the collar of her garment and inched farther behind the door. Her cheeks flushed with need. Maybe he wouldn't notice.

In an awkward gesture, she cleared her throat to ward off the emotion. He seemed to read her mind. Without a word, his smile faded, and he quietly resumed his trek down the hall.

Just like that, the moment came and went between them. Slowly, she closed the door behind her, struggling with a grin of her own.

His smile. Just like she remembered. Damn it! She wanted to be right about him.

Pulling into his driveway, Tony knew Yolie would not be pleased with his late hour. He'd missed dinner and tucking the kids in bed. Admittedly, Celia and Junior would be mortified if their friends knew they were still getting tucked in for the night. But this was a family ritual that Tony wanted to keep sacred for as long as possible. A parent didn't get these years back.

As usual, his front porch light was on, as well as the living room lamp. Yolie always told him it represented her burning love for him. He liked that idea, very much.

His shoulders ached with tension from the long day, but the warm welcome home lifted his spirits. Parking the vehicle in the drive near the front of their house, he turned off the ignition and flung open the car door. The Latino radio station abruptly came to an end. Stepping out of the car, he fumbled with his key ring, looking for the one for the front door. Slipping from his grip, the keys hit the ground with a clink. His eyes followed the sound, then