Close To Danger (Westen #4)(53)

“You have chocolate on your lips,” he said, his voice huskier than normal.

“I do?” Her words came out whispery, sort of mimicking the little flutters in her stomach.

“Want me to get it?” he asked moving slightly closer.

Eyes locked on his, she nodded.

He captured her lips with his. A soft kiss. A tasting. His tongue slipped across her lips, capturing the errant chocolate. He moved back, their lips lingering just a second longer before separating. Then he licked his lips.

“Delicious,” he said, continuing to hold her gaze. As he inched closer to kiss her again, his phone’s ring tone broke the near silence of the cabin. “Dammit,” he swore, shoving his body off the floor and striding over to the counter to retrieve his phone.

He turned to look at her, the desire on his face replaced with concern as he answered. “What’s wrong, Bulldog?”





CHAPTER NINETEEN


“We’re at the condo. It’s a mess. The doc needs to talk to her sister,” Janowski was saying to whoever was on the other line. His face very serious, his dark eyes said trust me.

Dylan did. Despite her concern for her sister and the state of the condo, Steve’s odd sudden protector personality took some of the edge off Dylan’s fear. Still, she wrapped her arms around her body to help stop some of the shaking, probably a combination from the adrenaline rushing through her body like the aftermath of a bad emergency surgery and the freezing cold weather.

Steve listened to the other man, nodded and handed her the phone.

“Chloe?” Dylan asked.

“It’s me Dylan,” her sister answered, her voice filling Dylan with reassurance. She slumped onto the edge of the sofa.

“What’s going on?” she asked, slipping into sister mode. “No one’s heard a word from you since yesterday and your condo…” she hesitated, staring at the violent chaos.

“What’s wrong with my condo?” Concern filled her sister’s question.

“Someone’s been here, Chlo. They…” she paused to look at Janowski. He nodded. “They tore it apart.”

“Tore what apart, Dyl?”

God, she hated telling her sister this, but she’d never shied away from the truth. “Everything, sis. They slashed the cushions of your furniture. Ransacked drawers. Broke things. Your living room has obscenities spray painted on the wall.”

“Oh, no.”

The pitiful sound coming from her strong sister broke Dylan’s heart.

“What else did they do?” A deep masculine voice asked.

“Who is this?” she asked, completely ignoring his question.

“It’s Wes Strong, Dylan,” Chloe said, and Dylan realized they’d put her on speaker phone. “One of Gage’s deputies.”

“You’re in Westen?” Anger shot through Dylan. “Why didn’t Bobby call and tell me? I know you two still think of me as the baby of the family, but dammit, I’m a fricking doctor. All grown up. I really wish you’d treat me like one.” She paused, cautiously watching the man across the room holding a gun as casual as if used to doing it daily. “Chloe, exactly what is going on and why did you send someone to babysit me?”

Janowski’s eyebrows shot up and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Dylan gave him her most pissed off look. If the man laughed she was going to pummel him, gun or no gun.

“He’s not a babysitter,” Wes said. “He’s a bodyguard.”

“And why, Mr. Strong, do I need a bodyguard?”

“Because your sister has a stalker.”

The brusque words hit her in the solar plexus, air whooshing out of her lungs. She sank onto the sofa, the world spinning around her. Her sister was in danger. Someone wanted to hurt her.

“Breathe, Doc,” Steven said, squatting down in front of her, his hand on her arm, slowly taking the phone from her. He hit the speaker button.

“Chief, she needs a minute.”

He leaned in closer. “Slow breath in, Doc. Slow breath out. Your sister is okay. She’s safe. The Chief isn’t going to let anyone hurt her. And I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

She gulped in air, then took his advice, forcing herself to calm down. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, clinging to her big sisters’ hands at her parents’ funeral and crawling into their beds when she was frightened. Just like Bobby had back then, she’d pull up her big girl panties and handle this.

“You okay?” Janowski asked her after a moment.

She nodded. “Yes.”

He returned her nod, then angled the phone between them. “Okay, Chief, like Doc said, this place was trashed. But it doesn’t look like anything valuable was taken. The computer, monitor, and flat screen are all here. All in one place.”

“So not a burglar?” Chloe asked.

“No. Ma’am,” Janowski answered. “It feels very personal based on the words spray painted in orange on the walls.”

“And your underwear and clothes are all over your bedroom,” Dylan added, finally able to look at the situation through a clinician’s eyes. “I know this is gross, but if you have a stalker, I’m thinking he touched everything in your lingerie drawer, sis.”

“Oh, gross,” Chloe groaned. “Can we just burn them all?”