Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(19)

A stocky figure that might top out near six feet and moved through the shadows in a decidedly male way crossed his yard and climbed the fence into CeCe’s yard.

Lucky for this guy neither he nor CeCe had dogs.

But the intruder’s luck ran out at that point.

Jeremy checked for any additional threats before easing out the sliding glass door that opened to his patio. He vaulted over the fence into CeCe’s yard and crouched all the way to where he found the sliding glass door open just enough to let a person pass through.

She’d probably left it unlocked for him.

He entered silently and paused in the kitchen. A deep voice rumbled low in the living room.

Much as he wanted to race in there and slam a head, Jeremy couldn’t make a mistake that would put CeCe in further danger.

A rough male voice said, “You’re Cecelia Caprice. Pretended to be a statue at the festival this weekend, right?”

“Y-yes, but I don’t understand,” CeCe answered as Jeremy crept forward. “What do you want from me?” Her voice went up an octave every couple words. She was closing in on hysteria.

Jeremy covered the last fifteen feet to the short hallway leading to the living room and paused again, peeking around the corner.

The bulked-up intruder held a weapon to CeCe’s head. “Calm down. If you scream, I swear I’ll blow your brains out.”

Rage sheared through Jeremy like a honed razor. He lifted his weapon and stepped into the room.





Five

The intruder stood to the side of CeCe, who sat shivering on the couch. Wearing a red silk kimono might not be the warmest clothing, but she was shaking from terror of having a weapon shoved against her head.

If this was a mission for BAD, Jeremy would take the clear shot he had. There were plenty of reasons not to, but the only one that mattered was the danger of the weapon at CeCe’s head discharging.

Jeremy pulled a penny from his pants pocket and tossed it down the hallway where the coin bounced against a baseboard.

“What was that?” the intruder said, eyes turning toward the sound.

“I don’t know,” CeCe whispered. “I live alone.”

Indecision played through the perp’s hardened face until he backed a step away from CeCe, pulling his weapon off her head.

Just what Jeremy had hoped for. He let the guy take a second step toward the hallway that brought him closer to Jeremy, who rushed him.

The perp’s eyes flashed surprise. He hesitated in raising his gun hand just a second, long enough for Jeremy to reach him in time to knock the weapon away.

But that left Jeremy open for the left hook that felt like a sledgehammer when it clipped his jaw. He took the hit then came back with a right cross of his own, using his gun to slam the guy in his temple.

The intruder fell back against her front door and dropped down between the door and the end of her couch.

“Jeremy.” CeCe had barely said his name as if she couldn’t breathe for hyperventilating.

“Are you okay?” He gave her a quick glance while he bent to pick up the intruder’s Glock and shoved it inside the waistband of his jeans. She wasn’t screaming and her eyes hadn’t glazed over with shock yet in spite of being terrified.

CeCe nodded from where she sat frozen. Her eyes zeroed in on the weapon in Jeremy’s hand and widened. If her face lost any more color he worried she might pass out.

Taking a look to ensure the guy was still out cold, Jeremy stepped over to where CeCe sat frozen in place on her sofa, hands gripping the cushion on each side of her legs.

He leaned down and put his palm against her face. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, fighting to hold back tears.

He kissed her, just enough to give her some comfort. When Jeremy lifted his head he was heartened to see her shock fading. Giving her a task would take her mind off the fear she’d just endured. “Have you got duct tape?”

She blinked, clearing her gaze. “Yes.”

“Walk around the far end of the coffee table and go get it.”

The minute she exited the room Jeremy went back to the guy, whose fingers were moving. He’d come to in a minute. The intruder packed an easy two hundred and twenty-five pounds of corded muscle into black pants and a tight-fitting T-shirt. Thick ruddy brown–colored hair an inch long covered his blockhead and deep lines carved into his ugly mug. A scar made up of X’s ran from elbow to wrist on his left arm. Prison cuts?

The guy shook his head and opened eyes that narrowed with hate.

In that instant, Jeremy saw something familiar in his face, but he couldn’t place him. “Who are you?”

“Someone you shouldn’t be pissing off,” the thug answered.

“Hard not to do when that’s my specialty.”

The guy’s arrogant gaze flattened. “You’re f*cking with the wrong person.”

“I could say the same thing.” Jeremy listened for CeCe who was digging through drawers in the kitchen, followed by slamming a drawer and cursing. His gaze stayed on this guy, who was too calm for being caught breaking and entering. “How do you know CeCe?”

Dull gray eyes stared then he shrugged. “Picture was in the paper.”

“What do you want with her?”

“What do you think?” The perp grinned.

Jeremy drew on all his discipline not to shove that smile down to the guy’s boots.