Breathe (Colorado Mountain #4)(20)

“Honey, I got eyes.”

I really liked it when he called me honey. He’d done it twice now and both times felt like gifts.

Of course, he probably called everyone honey if they were female. So it wasn’t a gift. It was throwaway. Meaningless.

I pulled in breath and straightened my shoulders.

“Okay then, Chace. I have been crying. But the fact I have and the reasons why I was are none of your business. So if you’re fired up to do your duty as an officer of the law and make sure I’m safe then walk me home. But, if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll pass on the interrogation.”

“There’s the backbone,” he muttered.

“What?” I snapped.

“Nothin’.” He was still muttering as he moved away, yanked on my hand and we started walking again.

I wanted to ask what he was doing roaming the streets in the middle of the night but I didn’t. I wanted to ask where his SUV was since I scanned for it as we walked through town in the cold and didn’t see it but I didn’t do that either. I wanted to ask him to let go of my hand but I didn’t do that either.

I just walked at his side with my hand held firm in his big, warm one and I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything stupid and dramatic. Like let my emotions and a beautiful, soul-wrenching song send me out into the night on an ill-advised walk. Which did nothing to clear my head seeing as I listened to the song that was wrenching my soul repeatedly while I did it.

In fact, I was deciding (dramatically, of course) from then on in, as we rounded the side alley to get to the back alley that led to my apartment, that I was listening to nothing but upbeat music for the rest of forever. I was so intent on deciding this that it didn’t occur to me that I wasn’t leading Chace to the alley where I lived.

He was leading me.

We’d turned into the back alley and got four steps in when we heard a crash.

Chace’s arm instantly jerked mine, pulling me back. He stepped forward and in front of me as he let go of my hand and his went to the gun at his hip.

But I saw, peering around him, a head pop up from the other side of the dumpster that was behind the Italian restaurant.

I knew that head.

“Holy frak!” I shouted. “That’s him!”

The boy from the library took off at my voice and I didn’t hesitate to take off after him.

“Jesus, Faye!” Chace roared from behind me but I kept right on going, arms pumping, feet sprinting.

I heard the beat of Chace’s boots then I saw him pass me and keep after the kid who darted around the corner of the side street. I watched Chace make the turn after him then I turned after them and saw Chace make another turn down Main Street.

I followed and saw Chace, well, chasing the kid down Main Street.

“You’re not in trouble!” I yelled. “We just want to help! It’s okay!” I kept yelling as the kid made a quick dash up a side street and disappeared, Chace still after him thus, seconds later, turning and disappearing too.

I made the dash as well and saw them racing up the side street.

Two blocks up, Chace was nearly on him when the kid put his hands to a fence, catapulted himself over and dashed through someone’s yard.

Chace didn’t delay in following him and disappearing into the yard.

Once I made it there, it took me four tries to get over that fence and I eventually had to heft my ass on it and swing my legs over. I had a feeling I tore the seat of my jeans when I did but I dropped to the other side and took off after them.

I lost them in the dark backyard, stopped and tried to listen over my labored breathing, hoping I’d hear a noise that told me which direction they’d gone.

I heard nothing.

I stayed there a long time.

I still heard nothing.

Frak!

It hit me I was in someone’s backyard after midnight and I shouldn’t be. It also hit me that Chace was chasing after some kid and not only had I lost him but he’d lost me. Therefore it hit me I had no idea what to do.

I gave it some time just in case Chace came back, hopefully with the kid so we could get him warm, fed (he was dumpster diving!) and talk to him but Chace didn’t come back.

So I quickly retraced our steps (avoiding the fence and belatedly noticing it opened at the drive and taking that route which I should have taken earlier). I went back jogging just in case Chace had the same thought as me and was headed the same way. I also did it scanning, hoping I’d catch sight of one, the other or better yet, both.

I didn’t.

What I did was go to the bottom of the stairs that led up to my apartment in the back alley, paced and waited.

I did this for about ten minutes. I had my iPod and my earphones detangled from my clothing and shoved in the back pocket of my jeans by the time I saw Chace round the corner of the side alley and prowl toward me.

Believe it or not, men could prowl. I knew this by the way he was doing it.

He was five feet away when he ordered low, angry and confusingly, “Ass up the stairs.”

“What?” I asked.

“Get your ass up the stairs, open your door, in your apartment.”

That seemed like a good idea since it would be warm up there so I turned, raced up the stairs, dug out my keys, yanked off my mittens and opened the door.

I went in and Chace followed me.

He also slammed my door.