Wrapped Up in You (Heartbreaker Bay, #8)(66)

“Merry Fucking Christmas Eve,” Arlo said.

Kel had to smile. “How you feeling?”

“Better than I look.”

“Good. You went over and above the call of duty on this one.”

“I tagged the fucker,” Arlo said. “Tell me you caught him.” He looked at Kel’s face and swore. “Follow the blood trail. He was bleeding like a mother fu—” He broke off when his nurse poked her head in.

“Everything okay in here?” she asked.

Arlo gave her a sweet wink. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

“Resting is my favorite activity.”

The nurse rolled her eyes and left.

“Can you describe him?” Kel asked.

“Late twenties to early thirties,” Arlo said. “Red hair that needs a cut, scruffy wannabe hipster beard. His left arm was tatted up.”

Kel had started to write down the description, but at this he stilled and lifted his head. “Did you see his eyes?”

“Yeah. One blue, one green. Weird as hell. He’d covered the ground floor security cameras with spray paint and was on the second floor. He’d broken into the business office and gym. He had a stack of laptops and tablets. Somehow he knew that was the only floor that had anything of value in it yet.”

The business center had just been stocked with computers, the gym with state-of-the-art equipment. One week from now at least ten of the units would’ve had people and valuables in them, as this coming weekend the place was opening to the first round of owners.

How had Brandon known to hit the condo building? That answer was easy. Obviously Ivy, who’d gotten the intel from none other than Kel’s own mouth.

The question was . . . why had she told Brandon, and had she known what her brother was going to do? Was she in on it? And how had Kel not seen that coming?

In his professional world, his life had depended on him remaining calm and steady in any situation. After years on the job, where cool thinking was a requirement, it had become habit, which he’d transferred to his personal life as well.

But he didn’t feel calm now. He felt everything but calm. In fact, he felt sick. He had no idea if Ivy had known what Brandon was going to do, but it was his job to find out. And while he expected to screw up in relationships, he wouldn’t fail on the job, not ever again.

But just the thought of Ivy gave him a chest pang. Hours ago, he’d left her warm and soft and sated in her bed, thinking she was a balm on his past and the key to both his present and future.

Now he didn’t know what to think. Brandon had broken into the property and he’d hurt Arlo in the process, giving Kel bad flashbacks to what had happened in Idaho. He pulled out his phone and texted Ivy: Have you seen or heard from your brother? And then went back to giving his attention to Arlo while he waited on her response.

“I caught him at the second floor entryway,” Arlo said. “I pulled my gun and told him to put his hands up and hit his knees. He did, so I moved close to secure him, but before I could, he whirled on me and he had a bat. Came out of nowhere.”

“Was there any exchange of words first?”

Arlo looked a little sheepish. “I might have said something, yeah.”

“Like?”

“Like . . . “ He grimaced. “Go ahead, punk, make my day.”

Kel shook his head. “Watching too many movies.”

“Yeah.” Arlo’s smile faded. “I also said I was going to make sure he rotted in jail because I was tired of punkasses like him thinking all they had to do was take what they wanted instead of earn it.”

“Arlo—”

“I know. I goaded him and he reacted faster than me.” Arlo shook his head. “Turns out, I’m the punkass.”

Kel’s phone buzzed with an incoming text from Ivy. Nothing.

Kel texted: Let me know if that changes. And then he shoved the phone away. “This wasn’t your fault,” he told Arlo, rising to his feet. “Rest up, okay? That’s your only job right now.”

Arlo let him get to the door. “Caleb had me trained at Hunt Investigations before you arrived. Then you came and trained all of us as well. And in the heat of the moment, I disregarded all training. I failed, Kel. And I’m sorry.”

Kel made sure to make eye contact. “Not your fault,” he repeated. Because it was very likely his, for once again believing his heart when he knew better. He left the hospital and ignoring notifications of missed calls and texts, he drove straight to The Taco Truck because this couldn’t wait.

The truck wasn’t open.

Heart pumping, blood pressure up at stroke level, he went to Ivy’s place.

The ladies gave him a long cool look and didn’t return his greeting. Not a good sign, he thought, heading up the walk. He jogged the stairs, motivated by adrenaline and worry and temper—never a good combo for him. By the time he got to her floor, he was telling himself that Ivy was an innocent pawn because she’d never be involved in anything like this, no matter that Brandon was family.

Ivy opened the door to his knock, her face revealing nothing. “I need to talk to you.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She paused as if surprised he’d ask her that question. Which was a shocking commentary on her low expectations of the people in her life, and he had to take a deep breath and force himself from pushing his way inside and snatching her up against him and holding on tight.