Page 21 of Last First Kiss
“There’s three rooms upstairs, right?”
“Yes, three rooms, two baths upstairs. Downstairs there’s another guest room with an en-suite bathroom and there is another bathroom by the living room.”
Annie made notes and looked around at the windows and where they faced. “I want to take a more thorough look at the security system later too.” She would tell Joey to do a full check and upgrade.
“Sure.”
The first room they walked into was beautiful, but not as lovely as the one she was staying in. This one had a smaller bed and didn’t have a balcony. It seemed as if it had never been used. “What’s through there?” she asked when she saw a door.
“The Jack and Jill bathroom. It leads to the other bedroom.” He opened the door and she walked through it to the other room. This one looked lived in; the bed was still unmade. It was also not as big as the one she was staying in, but the bed was big like the one she was using. The color palette was a little darker and the furniture a little more masculine.
“Why don’t you use the big room for yourself?” she asked, running her hand against the dark wood armoire.
“I do. I thought you’d like that one better, so I moved rooms.”
She stopped and turned.
He switched rooms?
“It has a balcony and a nice view. I thought you’d like it,” he added, his brows furrowed and his lips turned down. Was he insecure?
“It’s beautiful. I mean . . . who wouldn’t love it? But you didn’t have to do that; I would’ve been perfectly fine in any of the rooms.”
“I wanted you to feel comfortable here.”
Gah! She couldn’t take it anymore. She felt like such a horrible person for having been so callous before. “I don’t want you to be put out. Did you change furniture and clothes and . . .”
“No, I just moved my clothes. The furniture was already there. It’s a little soft for my taste anyway. I’m okay being here. You are not putting me out,” he said, softening a little.
“If you say—” A loud noise, like a window being shattered, boomed. She had her Glock out before she took her next breath. “Stay here. Do not move. Call nine-one-one.”
“No!” He pulled her behind him and began to walk out of the room.
“Monroe. Goddamn it.” When he didn’t listen, she yanked his arm up high on his back, causing him to squeal, and pushed him away. Slamming the door shut, she quickly pulled the decorative chair from the hall against the door, locking him in, and silently moved toward the noise, which had come from the master bedroom where she was staying.
From behind she could vaguely hear Rocco pounding and cursing, but all her senses were honed on the threat. All the years of training made her hyperaware of her surroundings, the sounds, the smells, the feel . . . everything. She was sure no one was in the house, but she wasn’t taking a risk. With her back against the wall, she used the heel of her shoe to slowly open the door, and when she didn’t hear a noise she moved inside, her gun cocked and ready.
The sheer curtain by the balcony was billowing in the wind, torn in a few areas from the shards of glass caused by the shattered balcony window. She looked right then left, slowly making her way to the nearest door, which was the huge walk-in closet. Again, after a quick sweep, it was empty. As she made her way to the bathroom, she could hear the sound of sirens from afar.
“Don’t you ever—” It was Rocco yelling breathlessly from the bedroom door, which now had a hole from where he’d kicked it open.
“Don’t move,” she yelled, quickly assessing that the bathroom was safe and then walking out to the balcony. “There’s glass everywhere. Room’s empty, but stay put.”
She barely noticed his flaring nostrils or ticking jaw as she put her back against the wall closest to the balcony and carefully peeked out. It was impossible for her to go outside without chancing being shot at if the perp was watching. With her chin, she signaled for Rocco to follow her out of the room.
Once they were both out of the room he grabbed her shoulders and gently shook her. “What the fuck, Annie. Are you crazy?”
“What the fuck, what?” She pushed him away.
“You don’t go running into fucking danger. You don’t lock me in a goddamn room,” he barked, his hair sticking out all over the place and his nostrils flared, as he heaved in a breath.
“Yes, I do. I do go running into danger. It’s my job!” she yelled back, walking past him to the door to let in the police.
At least he’d managed to do that.
“We’ll finish this talk later,” he growled.
There was no talk to be had. Not now. Not later. It was her job. And somehow she’d managed to royally piss off the client in a matter of forty-eight hours.
