Waiting For Wren (Book Five In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) (8 page)

“What happened?”

His gaze flew to Wren standing in the doorway. “Stay there. I don’t want you messing up the scene.” Or seeing what was there to see.

“Was it a rock?”

“A brick.”

“Oh my God. You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”

He walked back to where she stood in the hall. “We need to call this in.”

“In a minute. Come here.” She grabbed his still soiled hand and pulled him to the living room. “Sit down. You’re bleeding all over the place.”

He settled on the couch and winced as she applied pressure to the ache along the side of his head. “Easy.”

“You’re bleeding pretty good.”

“Hurts like hell.”

“I’m sure. I’ll be right back.” She dashed toward the bathroom.

“Don’t even think about pouring that stinging shit on my face.” He would sit on her before that happened.

She came back with another clean towel and a dripping washcloth, kneeling in front of him again. “Let me see.”

He leaned further into the cushion as he eyed the cloth wearily. “What’s on that?”

“Water. Now let me take a look.” She pulled his hand and the bloodied towel away from his temple and sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s pretty deep. I’m going to clean your wound some—make sure there isn’t any glass in it, then we’ll apply pressure and get the bleeding stopped.”

“You keep surprising me, Cooke. I had no idea you were a nurse, too.”

“My parents are doctors.” Brows furrowed, she moved in close, settling her body between his thighs, dabbing gently at his wound.

“Must be in the genes.” He hissed out a breath as she continued her painful work.

“No. I went through a long disappointing phase where I thought that if I tried to be interested in something my parents were, they might pay attention to me.”

“Didn’t work, huh?” He wanted to reach out and play with her long, wavy strands of silky black.

“Nope. Nothing did. I tried learning about medicine, being extra good, even extra bad. When I was ten I woke up and smelled the coffee and realized Grant and Renee were too wrapped up in themselves to have time for their children.”

She said what she did so matter-of-factly. He studied the exotic beauty carefully tending his wounds and finally understood a small piece of Wren Cooke. Under the layers of self-confidence and success remained the remnants of an unhappy childhood. The Cooke children had grown up in the lap of luxury, much like he did himself. The only difference was he and Staci had been lucky enough to have parents that gave a damn.

“Doesn’t look like we have to worry about flushing out any glass. You’re going to have a heck of a bruise though. How do you feel about stitches?” She set the clean cloth on his cut. “I think you’re going to need them. Here, hold this.” She took his hand, settling it on the towel against his gash, then folded the unsoiled edge of the washcloth and swiped at the drying blood on his pecs and stomach.

He grabbed her wrist, stopping her movements. “They’re stupid.”

She frowned. “Huh?”

“Your parents. They’re stupid for missing out on something special.”

She held his gaze, swallowing, and stood. “We need to—”

Something crashed through the living room window, and Wren screamed. Instinct had Tucker gripping her arm and yanking her to the floor. He covered her body with his, protecting both their heads with his arms. The sound of Wren’s rapid breathing filled his ears, though he could still hear cars rushing by on West Sunset. He gained his feet, hurrying to the edge of the window. No one was there. Tucker turned back and spotted another brick wrapped in duct tape by the couch. He could see the words
YOU’RE MINE!
from where he stood.

“It’s getting worse.”

His gaze whipped to Wren, who was staring at the message sent for her.

“It’s going to get worse every time.” She glanced at him, then at the darkness boring in through the busted window as she curled her arms around her legs. “How does he know I’m here?”

Tucker had his theories. He walked to her, crouching in front of her, resting his hands on her knees as her phone jingled with a text alert.

She looked at the cell as he picked up the phone from the coffee table and read
I’m just getting started.
Tucker clenched his jaw against the ball of helpless rage icing his stomach.

“What does it say?”

“I’m going to call Owens.”

She gripped his wrist. “What does it say, Tucker?”

He puffed out a breath as he met her eyes. “‘I’m just getting started.’”

She nodded. “He’s never going to stop.”

“Yes he is.” He gave her knee a gentle squeeze.

She picked up the bloodied cloth on the floor and pressed it to his temple. “You’re still bleeding.”

“We’re going to get him.”

She said nothing.

“We’re going to get him, Cooke.”

Forty-five minutes passed in a blur of questions and answers. The Crime Scene Unit packed away their cameras and aluminum fingerprinting powders while Tucker stood in the hallway close to his open front door, listening with half an ear as Detective Elena Revas spoke with Wren on the couch.

“We found the devices,” Owens said. “One on Ms. Cooke’s vehicle and another on yours.”

Tucker nodded. “Figured as much. We’d only been home half an hour when the first brick came crashing through the window, and I know he didn’t follow us home—I took the long way and didn’t spot a tail.”

“Seems like you’ve got a bead on this guy.”

He shrugged. “Just makes sense. Wren typically works ‘til seven at least—usually at her office the last half of the day—hence the late flower delivery to Cooke Interiors yesterday evening. We cut out early this afternoon when she got the last text. He knew she was here at my place—a deviation from her pattern—a good two hours earlier than she should be. If he didn’t follow us physically, he followed electronically.”

“Never should’ve left the force.” Owens shook his head mournfully. “We’ll see if we can get the GPSs linked to an e-mail address or cell phone.”

They wouldn’t, but Tucker nodded anyway. Whoever they were dealing with was too smart for such a stupid and obvious mistake.

“Looks like this case is escalating quickly.”

“Maybe you’ll start taking it seriously.”

“Fuck off, Campbell.”

“Look, I understand the situation you’re in and I don’t envy you, but we’ve got a serious problem on our hands.”

“On two fronts. I’ve got the DA on my ass pressuring me to wrap this up before the media grabs hold, then I’ve got a woman being threatened who insists Rex Richardson is responsible for the whole damn thing and there’s not a fucking shred of evidence connecting him in any way.”

“Rex groped her on a date and left a message admitting he was a jerk.”

“Let’s lock him up and throw away the key,” Owens scoffed. “Give me a fucking break, Campbell. You haven’t been off the force long enough to be firing bullshit like that back at me.”

Tucker squeezed at the back of his neck, knowing Owens was right. They didn’t have jack shit to work with.

“I’ll drag Rex’s ass into the station, but we both know how it’s going to end.”

“Yeah.”

“Excuse me, Detective Owens.” A beat cop stepped up next to him and Tucker. How the hell was this kid old enough to wear a badge? He had rookie written all over him. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“This about the Cooke case?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go ahead.”

The young officer glanced from Owens to Tucker. “Okay. Uh, the alarm just activated at Ms. Cooke’s home.”

Tucker’s cell started ringing as the newbie finished his sentence. He stepped away and answered. “Cooke.”

“Tucker. It’s Mia. We’ve had an alarm activation at Wren’s house. The police are on their way now and I’ve let Jackson know. He’s heading over.”

“Tell me what’s up with the sensor panels.”

“Looks like the upstairs double doors are the point of entry.”

“Upstairs,” Tucker muttered to Owens and the Rookie.

Owens held up his finger in a “wait a minute” gesture. “Find out who’s taking the call,” he said to the rookie. “Discreetly. I don’t want anyone overhearing.” He gestured to Wren.

“Hold on one second, Mia,” Tucker said as he waited for the answer.

The rookie turned away and radioed in. “Who’s responding to the alarm activation on Costas Drive?” The dispatcher responded and the officer turned. “Lou and Smitty.”

Wren stood with Officer Revas, shaking the officer’s hand.
Shit
. “Mia, I’ll call you back.”

“Okay.”

Tucker hurried into the apartment, heading Wren off. “Hey. Did Elena get your statement?”

“Yes. What did Detective Owens say?”

“Honestly, not much.”

She huffed. “I figured. Officer Revas said we can start cleaning up.” She glanced around at the mess on the floor. “Where’s your vacuum?”

Wren seemed steadier than she did an hour ago. “You don’t have to clean my apartment.”

“Did you call your cleaning crew?”

He grinned. “Yeah, they said they wouldn’t be able to make it.”

She chuckled and stepped closer, raising herself on her tiptoes to examine the butterfly stitches and Band-Aids the paramedic had placed over his cuts. “Look sore. Lots of bruising. Do you have a bag of peas?”

She smelled so damn good. “Probably.”

“When everyone leaves we’ll get that iced, and I’ll start dinner again.”

“My own personal nurse.” He winked. “How do you feel about sponge baths?”

She laughed, her full-out laugh he hadn’t heard since the last gathering at Ethan’s.

He skimmed his finger along her chin. “Not gonna lie, Cooke. I love that sound.”

She sobered instantly and stepped back. “Where’s the vacuum?”

“Hall closet.”

“Campbell.” Owens popped his head in the doorway. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah. Be right back,” he said to Wren as he followed Owens to the stairwell. “What?” Whatever it was, he already knew he didn’t like it. Tension tugged at his shoulders with a vengeance.

“Cops are setting up a scene at Ms. Cooke’s house. Looks as though someone helped himself to her underwear drawer. Her panties were sliced at the crotch and strewn about the bed.”

Tucker’s stomach curdled with a rush of anger. “Get your ass down to that station and bring the fucker in before I go find him myself.”

“Take it easy, Campbell. You know there are procedures we have to follow.”

“
You
have procedures you have to follow. I play by a different set of rules now. I better not see him anywhere near her, or I’ll take care of things my own way.”

“Don’t say shit like that. Something happens to him and I’ll have to come looking for you.”

“Guess you’d better get to him first.”

Owens eyed him as he took a step toward the lobby. “I’ll keep in touch.”

“We’re leaving,” Tucker said as he officially made the decision he’d been tossing around since this afternoon. This was the best solution until he and Ethan could think of something else. “I’m taking her away for a while.”

“Where?”

“Colorado. Ethan has a safe house in the mountains. We’ll hunker down there for a couple weeks or so until we can figure some of this out.”

“You’ll have your cell, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll keep in touch.”

“Thanks.”

Several officers walked by with their kits, following the detective out.

Tucker heard the vacuum begin to hum in his apartment. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the wall, instantly regretting it as a deep throb shot through his skull. “Damn it.” He righted himself immediately and clenched his fist at his side. This was no longer harmless harassment. Texts, flowers, and a dead cat hinted at trouble. Tracking devices and break-ins to screw with someone’s underwear screamed lethal obsession. It was time to pack Wren up for a while and get the hell out of LA. He pulled his phone from the elastic waist of his gym shorts and punched in Ethan’s number.

“Cooke.”

“It’s Tucker.”

“What’s going on?”

“We need to go. We’re heading to Colorado.”

“What’s going on, Campbell?”

“They found a tracking device on her car, and mine. He threw two bricks through my windows with messages letting me know she’s his, and he broke into her house about fifteen, twenty minutes ago.” Tucker closed his eyes as he hesitated with the rest. “He ripped up her panties and threw them all over her bed.”

“Fucking bastard,” Ethan spat.

“Let me grab some clothes and my toothbrush and we’re outta here. I’ll call Collin or someone else to drive us to the airport. Jackson went to the scene. I’ll check in before we leave. And it wouldn’t hurt to have you book our flights under the business. This guy’s going to hunt for her when he figures out she’s gone.”

“You can’t go to Colorado.”

“Why the hell not?”

“The snow’s made the roads impassable, not to mention the plumbing issues. George checked on the place last week before the blizzard hit. The pipes in the downstairs bathroom burst. He had to shut off the water completely until he can get it fixed.”

“Well it’s a good thing we don’t have a crisis on our hands or anything.” He ran his fingers through his hair in utter frustration.

“I’m looking into another house out East.”

“Doesn’t help us much now.”

“Bring her here. We’ll keep her—”

“That’s not a good idea, and you know it. Last thing we need is to get one of the kids mixed up in this. Think like the CEO of a security firm and not like her brother.”

“Fuck, man, this is my
sister
. How about Europe? We have connections—”

“Arrangements to Europe will take too long. This needs to happen now. I know where I can take her.” He clenched his jaw, wanting to rescind the offer even as he said it.