Wilde at Heart (Wilde Security, #3)(61)

Gathering her strength, she straightened and trudged out to the living room. The short walk felt like a trip to the hangman’s noose. Sam the Cat had backed himself into the corner of the room behind the entertainment stand and peeked out at her with wide, alarmed eyes. The coffee table was overturned, the couch knocked askew, and the cushions strewn across the floor. A lamp was shattered, drawers pulled open, and the paintings she’d yet to hang were gone.

Damn. That almost hurt more than having her mother pull a gun on her. Those paintings were virtually worthless, would get Katrina all of fifty bucks when she tried to pawn them, but they’d already had sentimental value. Reece had liked them, had enjoyed her efforts to make this place more colorful. For that reason alone, those paintings had been worth their weight in gold to her.

Oh, and the notebooks. Why had Katrina taken Reece’s notebooks, of all things? And his laptop. His checks…

She needed to call him before Katrina emptied his bank account.

Numb, she retrieved her cell phone from her bedroom. Only when she tried to punch in the numbers did she realize she was shaking. She could barely keep hold of the phone, not to mention see to dial with the sudden wash of tears filling her vision. She dropped the phone, curled into herself, and finally, she sobbed.





Chapter Twenty-Two


The door was open.

Reece froze in the process of digging for his apartment key and stared. It was only about two inches ajar, but still. It was open, and it shouldn’t be. With all of his recent problems, that was enough of a red flag to have a chill scraping across the back of his neck. He reached out, pushed on the door. The living room looked as if a tornado had hit it.

“Shelby!” His heart lodged in his throat, and he was moving through the apartment in floor-eating strides before his brain protested that the intruder could still be inside. His heart told his brain to f*ck off, because he could handle anything an intruder dished out, and he had to find Shelby. Had to make sure she was safe. Had to—

A muffled sound from her room caught his attention, and he made a beeline for it. And there she was, curled up in a tiny ball on her bed, sobbing. Sam the Cat sat by her head as if protecting her, his tail swishing in aggravation. In the cage across the room, Poe squawked and waddled restlessly from one side of his perch to the other, obviously aware of Shelby’s distress.

But she didn’t look injured, and the knot in Reece’s belly loosened. He sat down beside her, placed a soothing hand on her back. “Shelby. Sweetheart, what happened?”

She peeked up at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “Reece?” she breathed.

“Yes, I’m here now.”

Without another word, she crawled into his lap and curled up again as if wanting to withdraw from the world.

She’s…fragile. So much more than she lets people know…

Cam’s words haunted him as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”

“She took your notebooks.”

Her voice was so muffled against his chest, he wasn’t sure he heard her right. “My notebooks?”

“For your video game.” She sniffled. “And your computer. The book of blank checks in your desk. My ring…” She held out a shaking hand to show her empty finger. “Why’d she take my ring? It wasn’t worth anything to her.”

“Who?” Reece asked, although the sickening feeling in his gut told him he already knew the answer.

“Mom,” she whispered and broke down in big, shuddering sobs again. “S-she said I owed her. She p-pulled a gun on me.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He closed his eyes against the explosion of pure rage in his chest and held her tighter. What else could he do? Besides sic the cops on Katrina Bremer, which he fully intended to do.

Shelby wiped away her tears with the backs of her hands. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let her in.”

“This is not your fault.”

“You need to call your bank and—and make sure she doesn’t take all of your money. That’s all she wanted. She found out we’re married and wanted your money.”

“It’s insured. Whatever she gets, the money’s insured.”

She drew away enough to meet his gaze. “No. Call them right now. Freeze the account or whatever. I don’t want her to get a dime. This is my home. However temporary this situation is, right now it is my home, and I’m not letting her get away with coming here and scaring the hell out of me. She took my ring and your notebooks and the paintings I bought yesterday just because she knew it’d hurt me. She didn’t get her way, so she wanted me to hurt.”

“There you go.” He pushed her mussed hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. “Get mad.”

“I am mad. She had no right to terrorize me in my home. I don’t owe her shit.” Sitting up, she pushed her shoulders back and inhaled through her nose. She blew out the breath slowly, then wiped her eyes and, when she looked at him again, she was calm, grimly focused. “Call the police,” she said. “Call the bank. And then we will push her out of our thoughts and go to the gala and charm the pants off Irving James.”

Jesus, she was amazing.

He cupped her cheek, dragged his thumb over lips that still trembled slightly. “Are you sure?”