On his cell phone, he pulled up the queue and sent the pending wire instructions, then pulled away from the curb.

  The sense of relief he felt was liberating. With his part of the plan completed he could relax and stop worrying. Blow off some steam.

  Too bad he didn’t already have Jillian waiting for him at home. He could call her and tell her to put on something sexy in anticipation of his arrival, and then he’d bring home a bottle of champagne, tie her to his bed, and do whatever he felt like doing to her.

  Soon.

  Very soon, everything he’d dreamed of having would be a reality.

  Chapter 19

  Thirty minutes later, Jillian stood in front of her vandalized door with Detective O’Malley.

  “Can you think of any reason your ex felt the urge to do this?” he asked.

  “He’s a fucking psycho?” Jillian’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. She didn’t often use harsh language, but she felt the occasion called for it.

  O’Malley smiled and his cute dimples appeared. “Aside from that?”

  “I really don’t know.” She heaved a sigh. “He didn’t bother me much after I moved in with my grandparents. There was the time he left those black roses and notes on my car, and the few times he showed up at the museum. All I can think of is that he wants me to know he’s watching. That he knows where I live, and that he can get to me.”

  And he was getting to her. Nerves aside, she was a wreck.

  O’Malley held out his hand. “Give me your keys and let me search the place.”

  Jillian handed over her keys.

  “Stay out here,” he said, then drew his gun, unlocked the door, and went inside.

  She pulled out the stem on her watch and wound it three times, her foot tapping nervously on the ground as she waited. While she didn’t like the idea that Kevin might be inside waiting to attack her, she almost wished O’Malley would find him so he could arrest him and drag his psycho ass to jail.

  Or shoot him.

  O’Malley appeared in the doorway, tucking his gun into the holster he wore under his blazer. “It’s all clear.”

  “Thanks for checking,” she said, disappointed that he hadn’t found a reason to arrest Kevin.

  “Why don’t you come inside and make sure nothing is missing or damaged.”

  Jillian stepped past him into her apartment and tossed her purse on the table by the front closet. She flipped on lights as she went into the kitchen, then the living room. Everything was just as she’d left it. The couch pillows were perfectly arranged and nothing had been moved on her desk. Back in her bedroom, the white duvet cover and pillows hadn’t been touched. The bottles of lotion and perfume on her dresser were arranged in groups of three.

  Thank God he hadn’t been inside her apartment. With everything else spiraling out of control in her life, she didn’t need her one safe haven destroyed. Her apartment was the one place where she could find shelter from a dangerous, unpredictable world, and she didn’t want to think about what would happen if someone took it away.

  Without safety and routine, her entire life would unravel.

  Walking back to the kitchen where O’Malley waited for her, she said, “I don’t think he was in here.”

  “Do you have a friend or a relative you could stay with for a few days?”

  “You think I should leave?”

  Jillian had planned on coming home to pack a bag and take a cab to the airport, but that was when she thought she’d have the ring. In light of her hasty departure from Smith’s house—without the ring—she needed some time to devise a new plan, and had no idea where to start.

  “It may not be safe here.” O’Malley scrubbed a hand through his short hair. “This is a secure building and he still managed to get in. There’s a possibility he might return when he knows you’ll be home.”

  “This is my home, detective,” she said. “I don’t want to go anywhere else.”

  “I’m only suggesting you stay somewhere safe until we check for prints and get a chance to talk to the guy.”

  “And then what, detective?” She folded her arms across her chest. “Will my apartment be any safer in a couple of days?”

  He sighed and swept one side of his jacket back as he put his hand on his hip. The shiny gold badge clipped to the waistband of his jeans glimmered under the light. “At least go somewhere until you file another restraining order. I can take you to a place.”

  The darting, shifty look in his eyes unnerved her, and Jillian got the feeling he didn’t necessarily have her best interests in mind. She tensed, her anxiety rising.

  “I don’t want to file a restraining order, detective,” she said, attempting to maintain her calm. “I want him arrested and I want to press charges. He should be punished for this instead of always getting off because the law allows criminals more rights than their victims.”

  “You were worried about a restraining order upsetting him,” he reminded. “Pressing charges will piss him off a whole lot more. Come with me, and I’ll keep you safe.” He reached for her hand.

  Alarmed, Jillian jumped back a step. “I’m not leaving with you.”

  “Don’t get excited.” O’Malley held up his hands in a passive gesture. “I just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

  “She is.” Smith hovered in her open doorway, his expression hard and implacable, his focus centered on O’Malley.

  “Who are you?” The detective wanted to know, shifting his stance so he faced Smith directly.

  “A friend.” Smith’s penetrating gaze slid over to Jillian. “I wanted to see that you got home all right.”

  Was that why he’d come? To check on her? She hadn’t expected to see him so soon after running from his house, if she ever saw him again, but she was glad he was there. Detective O’Malley had over-stepped his bounds.

  She met Smith’s unflinching stare. “I’m fine.”

  “Good.” His gaze dropped to the red spray paint on her door. “What’s this?”

  Jillian wanted to die of embarrassment, but she couldn’t hide her past. Not when it was painted on her front door. “It’s nothing.”

  “That’s what it looks like.”

  O’Malley pulled a pen and a small notepad from his jacket pocket and flipped to an empty sheet of paper. “What did you say your name was?”

  Smith regarded the detective with cool disdain. “I didn’t.”

  The two men stared at each other in silent challenge. Smith’s eyes blazed and glowed, savage and brilliantly blue. His extraordinary gaze was compelling, magnetic, and held O’Malley still.

  Jillian felt the powerful charge of energy consuming the room, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She knew this game, and Smith always won.

  “I don’t have anything to give you,” Smith declared in his husky, accented voice. “You don’t need to know who I am, or why I’m here.”

  “No,” O’Malley replied, shaking his head slowly, as if confused. “No, I don’t need to know.”

  He tucked the notepad and pen back into his jacket pocket, then scratched his head.

  Jillian’s mouth dropped open, completely stunned.

  She knew Smith had some weird, uncanny ability to get inside people’s heads, but to see it in action was a little startling.

  Had he done it to her just as easily?

  If so, how could she be sure her feelings for him were real, and not forced?

  “It’s time for you to leave,” Smith told O’Malley, while he stepped through the doorway and into her kitchen. “Go right out the door.”

  O’Malley gave a decisive nod of his head and walked right out the door without saying a word.

  “Tell me how you did that.” Jillian demanded an answer. “I can feel you in my head. How is that possible?”

  He stood there, bold and intimidating, saying nothing. Only the muscle clenching along his jaw revealed any sort of reaction.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Jillian teased, but not really.

  “The less you know about me, the better.”

  “Yet you know everything there is to know about me,” she countered. “That seems rather unfair.”

  “Yes, quite unfair.”

  Caught in his roundabout answers, Jillian moved on to the next question. “Why are you following me?”

  He lowered his gaze to her hips, and smiled. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

  Jillian went warm all over and her stomach fluttered. He was devastatingly handsome when he smiled like that, and she wanted to kiss his firm lips, to feel his strong arms wrap around her and pull her up against his hard body. A wave of pleasure washed through her and she licked her lips in anticipation.

  Oh, her feelings for him were definitely real.

  She could recognize the invading push of Smith trying to get into her head and, at the moment, she was blissfully alone with her thoughts. She didn’t care who or what he was. She wanted him.

  “Why are you here?” She walked past him and out the open front door to retrieve her abandoned bag of groceries. All the perishables had gone bad by now.

  Turning a glance down the hallway, she saw no sign of Detective O’Malley lingering around. It was like he had never been there.

  “You’re in danger,” Smith said, as she came back inside and closed the door.

  “Is that all?” She strode into the kitchen and set the bag of groceries on the counter.

  He was going to have to give her more information than that. She’d heard the danger part enough times.

  “I should have warned you sooner,” he said. “And when you ran off after lunch, I didn’t get the chance.”

  “Why should I believe anything you say?” She started unpacking her groceries. A bunch of lettuce and two cans of tomato sauce went on the counter. A single, uncooked chicken breast from the deli went in the trash. “Why should I trust you?”

  She looked at Smith, awaiting his answer. He might be impossibly handsome, and an amazingly good kisser, but that was no reason to trust him. A wolf in lion’s clothing.

  He came further into kitchen and leaned against the counter. “We’re partners.”

  “Are we?” she wondered, not feeling so sure.

  “I need to tell you what I found at Jonathon’s house.”

  Shocked, she simply looked at him. “You told me you didn’t find anything.”

  “I lied.”

  She slammed a box of pasta noodles down on the counter, muttering a curse under her breath. “How can we be partners? Partners don’t lie to each other.”

  “I didn’t tell you what I found because I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “How noble,” she mocked. “We wouldn’t want to upset the damsel in distress. She already has enough problems.”

  “Yes,” Smith agreed. “It’s written all over your front door.”

  Jillian cringed, hating that he’d seen Kevin’s handiwork. Each time her oppressor came after her, lashing out in his anger, she felt so violated, so vulnerable, and she didn’t want to feel that way anymore.

  She studied Smith. A man like him would never have a stalker. The wolf was the hunter, not the prey.

  “My ex paid a visit while I was gone, that’s all.” She shrugged.

  What else could she do about it?

  According to the police, not much.

  “Where does he live?” His blue eyes turned chilling.

  In that moment, Jillian had no doubt he would go after Kevin if she gave the word. God, how she wanted to put an end to all the harassment, to looking over her shoulder all the time. What would Kevin do if Smith showed up on his doorstep?

  What would Smith do?

  Jillian was tempted. Very tempted. But she could solve her own problems. Soon she would be gone, and Kevin would never be able to bother her again.

  “The door is no big deal,” she said. “He doesn’t come around as much as he used to.”

  Smith’s sharp features gentled, his eyes softening. “He shouldn’t come around at all if you don’t want him to.”

  “Yeah, well, tell him that.” She sighed as she put the last of her groceries in the cupboard. “He’s not real good at listening.”

  Smith didn’t miss a beat. “Pack a bag. It’s not safe here.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my house.”

  How perfect.

  Her plan was working out on its own. She could pack what she would need to take on a one-way trip to nowhere, and then she’d have one more chance to get the ring.

  Chapter 20

  Something wasn’t right.

  All the security lights around the outside of his house were lit, shining brightly in the twilight, yet Kyriel got the instinctive feeling his territory had been invaded and he didn’t like it. As Jillian drove her car up the drive and parked behind his Corvette, he grew more and more uneasy. Someone had been in his home while he was gone.

  Of that he was certain.

  Jillian turned off the engine and the dash lights went dark. “How did you get to my apartment if you didn’t take your car?”

  “Wait here,” he instructed, throwing open the car door.

  He rushed up the front steps, unlocked the front door, and went into his house. The security system had been disarmed.

  James had the night off, so he couldn’t have forgotten to leave the house secure. That only left one option.

  Someone had dared to invade his home.

  Kyriel knew exactly what they must have been looking for, and exactly what they must have found.

  He took the stairs two at a time and went up to his library. The lights were blazing and, behind the desk, the painting hanging over the wall safe tilted slightly askew. Whoever had the nerve to rob him hadn’t felt the need to expertly cover their tracks.

  Kyriel took the painting down and saw the safe had been tampered with. Drill marks were visible. He didn’t need to open the safe to see if the ring was gone, but he did it anyway.

  Inside, only the ring was missing. The stacks of cash and other jewels had been untouched. If he searched, he was certain nothing else would be missing from any room in the house. Which was rather stupid. Not attempting to make the robbery appear random considerably narrowed down the list of possible suspects.

  He knew it wasn’t Asmodeus. The dark angel would have blasted the safe open with his powers, rather than spare the time and effort to break into it professionally. This was a human job, and he’d lay all his bets on Jonathon.

  “What happened?” Jillian came into the library.

  Her gaze darted from him, to the opened safe. First shock lit her pretty green eyes, then total disbelief. “The ring is gone.”

  “Stolen,” Kyriel clarified. “The safe has been broken into.”

  “That’s just great.” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “You said the ring would be safe with you.”

  “It is.” He couldn’t help but smile.

  Stealing from Kyriel was complicated, and he’d taken extra precautions with the ring.

  “Come with me.” He stormed out of the library and headed downstairs.

  Jillian was right on his heels as he rounded the bannister and walked down the hallway towards the kitchen.

  “Are you saying you still have the ring?” She hurried along in her high heels to keep up with him.

  Crossing the large, spacious kitchen, he came to the wooden cellar door and threw it open. The lights operated on sensors and illuminated a path as they descended the stairs.

  “You have a lot of wine,” Jillian remarked, following him through the endless rows of wooden wine racks.

  He hoped she liked red, because that’s all he liked to drink. There would be no Chardonnay in his wine cellar.

  “I own a vineyard outside of Marseilles.”

  “You have a vineyard in France?” She stopped to inspect some of the labels. “Wow.”

  “We’re not here for wine,” he said, continuing to the back of the cellar.

  He pried the last rack, only half full of bottles, away from the brick wall. Twelve rows of bricks up, and twelve rows over, he located the loosened brick and pried it out from the wall.

  The ruby ring sparkled at him from its secret hiding place.

  “The ring!” Jillian exclaimed, peering over his shoulder. “You weren’t keeping it in the safe.”

  “Not the real one,” he told her, taking the ring and slipping it onto his left middle finger. “I had an exact replica made, and that’s the one I kept in the safe.”

  “How did you get a copy made so fast?”

  “I know people.”

  Jillian didn’t need to hear about his connection in the diamond district.

  “Won’t whoever broke into your safe know it’s a fake?”

  Kyriel arched his brow. “Would you have been able to tell the difference?”

  “Maybe not.” She frowned. “How can you?”

  “The ring has power, and I can feel it.”

  All angels could.

  Interest flickered behind her eyes. “What does it feel like?”

  “No time for questions.” He moved the rack into its original position against the wall. “We aren’t safe here.”

  He led Jillian back upstairs and went outside to his Corvette. Once he deactivated the alarm with his key ring, he held the passenger side door open for her.

  “No way,” she said, shaking her head and retreating a step. “I’m not riding in that.”

  Kyriel couldn’t see why not. She’d insisted on being the one to drive her car to his house, and she’d turned out to be a terrible driver. Slow, and overly cautious, she was an absolute menace on the road. The sound of angry horns blaring in their direction was still a vivid, albeit painful memory.

  Kyriel closed the car door. “Then I’ll drive your car.”

  “I don’t do good in cars unless I’m driving,” she said, her voice filled with a distant sadness. “I’d like to get wherever we’re going safely and soundly.”

  He knew her past must be the reason she was apprehensive, but the best way to get over a fear was to face it.

  “Don’t you ever do anything exciting? Anything spontaneous?” he asked, walking up to stand before her. “Have you no spirit of adventure?”