Читать книгу: «Copy That»

Looking now at Jeremy, she felt something different.

One second spent touring those broad shoulders, and her blood heated in her veins and her mouth went dry. She wanted to talk and get to know him, even as her brain screamed at her to hide until he snuck out of town again.

He cupped her cheek and ran a thumb over her suddenly dry lips. “Do you really not understand the question?”

“I’m not into big men.”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you know how tempting it is to make a tasteless joke right now?”

The laughter bubbled up from her chest. This time she didn’t try to stop it. She let the amusement flow through her and wipe out some of the horror of the day.

She gave in to the urge to trail her hand across his chest. Firm dips and bulges pressed against her palm. “You’re doing fine.”

“That’s good, because unless you tell me no, I’m going to kiss you. Long and deep, hot and a bit naughty.” He shifted his hands to her hips and pulled her close until his body pressed against hers.

“Jeremy, I—”

“I’ll stop before we go too far, because it’s been a pretty long and not-so-great day, but believe me when I say I won’t want to.”

“Still dealing with that surge of adrenalin?”

“Don’t give the credit to the danger high. It’s been an hour. The night is dark and you’re sexy, and if you wiggle like that one more time, I’m throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you into that room.” He nodded in the general direction of the door. “And I won’t care about my bad timing until tomorrow.”

Copy That
HelenKay Dimon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For Jennifer Dimon

—my fabulous niece, the college graduate.

I’m so proud of you!

Chapter One

Meredith Samms heard the front door slam. Not hers. This one belonged to the bottom-floor apartment.

She rented the small one-bedroom tucked into the eaves of the blue craftsman-style housexd. Her place stretched all of 550 square feet from one end to the other. Still, she paid more per month for the tiny space than her parents paid for a mortgage on a two-story Colonial on an acre in upstate New York. That’s what happened when you wanted a piece of what many considered paradise—a home three blocks from the ocean in Coronado, the peninsula of prime real estate across the harbor from downtown San Diego.

Garrett Hill lived in the more spacious apartment downstairs. Not that he stayed there often enough to enjoy it. He traveled most days of the month and had been out of town for three solid weeks. Half the time she knew he was home only when she heard the echo of his heavy footsteps.

This trip struck her as odd, the usual blanket of secrecy lifted. A man she’d never seen before had come to the door two days ago looking for Garrett. A courier had left a package for him, saying Garrett gave her name as someone who could sign for it.

Looked as if he’d broken the whole lone-wolf thing he had going on and she had no idea why. She could ask, even though the chance of getting an answer was slim. Heck, he’d never even told her what he did for a living, and she’d sure poked around that topic several times. Good thing she believed in a healthy dose of persistence.

Slipping off the window seat, she grabbed her key and stuffed it into the back pocket of her cut-off denim shorts. The window air conditioner had lost the race against the unusual scorching July afternoon heat. So much for the theory about San Diego always having perfect seventy-something-degree weather.

Thinking maybe heading downstairs for a visit would keep her T-shirt from sticking to her back, she jogged down the steps, letting her running shoes fall heavily to warn of her impending visit. By the time she hit the small entryway at the bottom of the stairs, she expected Garrett to have his door open. Instead it stayed closed.

She knocked twice. On the second rap, the door slipped open as if the wind had pushed it. Since the air stood deadly still today and Garrett was a bit of a security freak, a ball of anxiety started spinning in her chest. With her past, she didn’t scare easily but this scene had Bad Horror Film written all over it.

If she’d lived anywhere other than low-crime, military-presence-everywhere Coronado, she might have bolted. Instead, she eased the door open. “Garrett?”

Only silence bounced back at her.

Her foot crossed the threshold and she heard a small crack. Looking down, she didn’t see anything other than sturdy wood painted a bright, shiny white.

When she looked up again, there he was. Not Garrett. Garrett was tall and muscular, but this guy, the nonGarrett, was enormous. Like, size-of-a-truck enormous. He had blond hair and wore all black to match his dark frown.

Alarm bells chimed in her head. She couldn’t breathe over the clanking and dinging.

She turned to run, and that fast he was on her. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, trapping her arms against her sides as a hand clamped over her mouth. The oversize dial on his watch dug into her stomach as he spun her around to face the family room again and her feet went airborne. Kicking out as she went, her heel hit the door and slammed it hard against the outside wall.

Despite her defensive efforts, before she could blink she was inside and out of sight of anyone who might walk by. But no way was she giving in without a fight.

She thrashed and shook her head from side to side, hoping for a second where she could ease out of his grip and scream for help. Not that his hand across her mouth stopped her from trying. She yelled until all the air left her lungs, but the sound was muffled against his palm.

Her eyes focused on the room. Her heart rate, which had already kicked to near heart-attack range, tripled its beat. The sofa cushions had long, jagged rips in them. The few photos in the apartment lay on the floor, the glass smashed and scattered among the papers and furniture stuffing.

Seeing the destruction fueled her survival instinct. She kicked, this time hitting bone near his calf and earning a grunt from her attacker. Instead of letting go as planned, his hold over her stomach tightened. Much more of this and he’d strangle her.

She moved her head and opened her mouth, letting him think she intended to scream again. When he adjusted his grip over her lips, she bit down into the meaty part of his palm and didn’t stop until she tasted blood.

One second she was standing, nearly bent over from the pressure of his arm against her middle, the next she was spinning through the air. She smacked against the back of the couch with her full weight and felt it bobble and threaten to tip over. One leg folded under her on the cushion as she landed and a shock of pain ran down her spine to her knee.

The combination of dizziness and terror had her stomach heaving. Her vision split in two then refocused just in time to see her attacker looming over her. Blood smeared his cheek and ran down his hand.

“You’ll pay for that” was all he said.

The terse phrase was enough to get her moving again, sore knee and all. She scrambled up the back of the couch, clawing her way over shredded cushions and slipping over the top toward the window. Just as one leg hit the floor, he grabbed the other. Two baseball glove–sized hands held her ankle in a viselike grip.

“You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he said as he started twisting her foot.

She shifted her hips to keep him from breaking it. “What do you want?”

“Came here looking for one thing but looks like I’ll be leaving with another.” He leered at her as he spoke.

The sick gleam in his dark eyes touched off a frenzy of panic inside her. Her hands shook and the urge to throw up almost overtook her. It had been years since she’d experienced violence. She blocked it so that she could function every day, but the memories kicked to the surface now.

“Please let me go.”

The man just laughed. The deep sound, so menacing in its promise of pain, cut across her nerves.

Keep fighting. The words flashed in her brain and ran through her, soaking into every pore.

When one of his palms slid up her calf to the back of her knee, she knew she had a chance. Waiting for just the right moment, when his sick need to control overcame his battle stance, she kicked out as hard as she could. Her heel crashed into his jaw, sending his head flying backward as he yelped in surprise.

She heard the crunch and then she was free. Momentum sent her flying back against the window. She reached for the curtains to steady her weight. With a roaring rip, the rod gave way and she fell on her butt. Wedged between the couch and the wall, she struggled to get her legs under her.

With a rage-filled cry, her attacker reached over the sofa and pulled her to her feet. The bright red cheeks and clenched teeth didn’t scare her half as much as the gun in his hand. She had no idea where it had come from, but it was pointed at the center of her chest.

“You’ll learn.” He practically spit as he talked. His fingers dug into the bare skin of her forearm.

“I have money.” She didn’t, but she needed time.

The house sat off the main strip filled with tourists and shops, but people walked by all the time on their way to the water. If she could stall long enough, a witness might see her by the window, call the police to check it out.

His gaze crept down the front of her blouse. “You have everything I need right on you.”

Disgust clogged her throat as she glanced around looking for something—anything—she could throw through the front window. She spied the overturned lamp on the floor and plotted the best way to drop to the floor and grab it with a man holding on to her arm hard enough to cause bruises.

She’d just resigned herself to a broken arm when she saw a blur of movement behind her attacker. Black hair and stone-cold blue eyes. Six feet of lethal male machine.

Her heart slowed to a jog as the tension rushing through her eased. Everything would be okay now.

Garrett Hill had come home.

The usual military haircut and fatigues were gone, replaced by hair brushed down almost over his eyes and faded blue jeans. In the weeks away, his smile had disappeared but one thing looked the same—his strength. A tight black T-shirt stretched across his wide shoulders and chest, highlighting every muscle.

She’d never been so relieved to see anyone in her life. Her shoulders sagged and she had to fight off a smile when an openmouthed stare replaced the attacker’s snarl as Garrett shoved a gun into the back of the other man’s head.

“Let the lady go, nice and slow.” Garrett reached around and grabbed the other man’s gun.

“This isn’t over, Hill.”

“Sure feels like it is.” Garrett nodded his head at her. “Come over here.”

She didn’t even make it to the other side of the couch before the attacker lunged. He threw his body backward, aiming his head right for Garrett’s chin. Garrett shifted in time to deflect the blow, but the attacker turned around. They were face-to-face with the gun trapped between them. Both of their hands held the weapon as Garrett elbowed the other man in the side of the head.

Already injured, the attacker pulled back. Garrett used the opening to wrestle the gun away. It made a short pffft sound as he shot the attacker in the knee.

The man went down with a whoosh, squealing and moaning as he dropped to the hardwood. Glass crunched under him where he rolled around.

She watched the blood stream onto the floor right before Garrett slammed his weapon against the attacker’s head, sending him into a deadly quiet sprawl.

Then Garrett was there, right in front of her. “Are you okay?”

She tried to look past Garrett’s stiff shoulders to the still body below. “Is he dead?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“I don’t understand. Who is that?”

“No idea.”

“I don’t—” The words died in her throat when he touched her shoulder, bringing her gaze back to him. She couldn’t remember a time in the year since she’d moved in when he’d touched her. “How can you not recognize him? He was in your house.”

“There are two things you need to know.” Garrett waited until she nodded before continuing. “First, we need to get out of here right now.”

She didn’t exactly disagree but she wanted to understand. “Don’t we need to…?”

His eyebrow rose. “What?”

“I don’t know. Something.”

“Okay, then. My second point.” He held up another finger. “I’m not Garrett.”

Chapter Two

For the most part, Jeremy Hill thought the woman took both pieces of information pretty well. Didn’t balk or ask questions as he steered her to the front door and onto the porch, which was good since he had only a few minutes to get her calm and out of there.

Not many people could face down a trained killer, handle some scary and unexpected information and stay on their feet. Add in a nasty bout of manhandling and she should be screaming by now. But her facial expression didn’t even change.

He was impressed.

He had no idea who she was or why she was here. If he had more time, he’d appreciate the sweet pair of legs sticking out from under those shorts. He almost swore when a double kick of attraction and envy hit him. Garrett had kept quiet about this woman. Part of Jeremy understood why.

Of course, Garrett shouldn’t be with any woman except his fiancée…or was it former fiancée? Jeremy wasn’t sure where that relationship stood, but Garrett’s last message had suggested trouble. Not that Jeremy had time to worry about that now.

The woman in front of him started blinking. “Did you hit your head?”

From the look on her face he wondered if she had. “Uh, no.”

“Fall down?”

He held up both hands, including the one with the loaded gun. “Okay, let me just stop you before you run through every possible injury scenario. I’m fine.”

She snorted. “You sure sound like Garrett.”

Not the first time he’d heard that. “Probably because I’m his brother.”

“Brother?”

“Yes.” The confusion hadn’t left her eyes, so he nodded to emphasize his answer. “He didn’t tell you he had an identical twin?”

Her chest rose and fell on a hard breath. “No, but I guess that would explain it.”

“Not a surprise. He tends to be private.”

She snorted. “There’s an understatement.”

Seemed she did know Garrett. In their respective lines of work, the brothers kept their personal lives secret. It was an unspoken way of protecting each other. Their bond could transcend weeks, months even, without communication. They didn’t need to announce it in every conversation.

Jeremy had been in the field in Arizona as a Border Patrol agent. He’d come in for a mandatory break. His agenda included nothing more than a few beers and maybe a Padres game. He’d earned some rest and relaxation time. With nothing but miles of desolate desert and days spent chasing drug runners for miles on end, walking into San Diego had been like stepping into a cleansing shower.

Now this. Jeremy didn’t know what Garrett had done or whom he’d ticked off, but something big was happening here and Jeremy had managed to jump right into the middle of it by accident.

So much for the idea of a thirty-day recuperation period while hanging out with his brother by the beach.

Jeremy slipped his cell out of his back pocket and hit a button for the preprogrammed number. He knew the person on the other end would have his identity and location in less than fifteen seconds, with or without the code word. He said it anyway. “Roman five.”

The woman in front of him just stared. “What does that—”

“Hill residence.” He held up a finger as he talked into the silence on the other end of the phone. Someone somewhere would be taping the distress call and he didn’t want her voice being overheard. “Need immediate assistance.” He hung up.

She found her first smile; it was shaky but there. “Roman? I’m guessing that’s a password?”

He shrugged. “Dramatic but I didn’t pick it.”

“That was sort of a one-sided conversation.”

“All it takes is one call.”

“You have a special ‘in’ with law enforcement the rest of us aren’t privy to?”

Clearly the woman had no idea what Garrett did for a living. “My brother has friends in the right places.”

“I wouldn’t know. He’s not exactly the sharing type.”

“True. Garrett can keep a secret forever if he needs to.” He took his oath seriously. They both did.

Funny how Garrett had even forgotten to mention his pretty neighbor. But Jeremy sure noticed her. Straight shoulder-length blondish-brown hair and big brown eyes. The shirt hinted at a comfortable curviness that trumped the stick-figure California type every time in his book.

He loved the softness of women. Their smell and inviting smiles. Mix that with a wariness of someone who had seen the rougher parts of life and you had his attention.

And how she’d gone after the attacker, waiting for the right moment to strike, was pure magic.

“May as well make this official.” He held out his hand. “Jeremy Hill. Younger brother by thirty-four minutes.”

She slid her hand into his. “Meredith Samms. Kindergarten teacher and woman right on the edge of vomiting.”

“Please don’t. I’d honestly rather you shoot me.” He’d take a firefight over dry heaving any day.

“Believe it or not, I’m trying not to be sick.”

Way he figured it, help was still two minutes away. He’d hoped to take her mind off the horror then get her down the steps and out without incident, but his time was up. They had to go.

“You teach your students those kicking moves?”

“I might now.” She inhaled and let her breath out nice and slow as she stared at a fixed point across the street. “I like to think I’m pretty smart, but I’m totally confused about what’s going on here.”

“Understandable.”

“My hands won’t stop shaking.” She turned her palms up.

He slid his hands under hers and felt her nerves jump around. When he realized his did, too, and not from fear, he dropped his arms to his sides. “Adrenaline. It will pass.”

“Will the urge to throw up?”

He sure hoped so. “That takes a bit more practice.”

He glanced through the window into the ransacked family room, seeing if there was anything he could salvage before they booked out of there. Guy still knocked out on the floor. Good. Nothing else looked much like it was worth keeping. Jeremy knew without a full house inspection the only thing that mattered, or had any value, stood in front of him with eyes the size of basketballs.

“Anyone else in the house, to your knowledge?” he asked as he eased away from the door and down the stairs, taking her with him toward the sidewalk without even touching her.

“No.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as she took turns peeking at the door and watching her step.

“You haven’t seen Sara?”

Meredith stopped moving. “Who’s Sara?”

Well, that answered the question about the current state of Garrett’s love life. “That sounds like a ‘no’ on Sara.”

The questions kept piling up. Jeremy planned to track down his brother the second they got out of there and start asking a few.

“I thought Garrett was home, but I guess not,” Meredith said.

“Just me, and I walked in on that guy. Watched him for about fifteen minutes to see what he was looking for.” Jeremy cleared his throat as he tried to block the guilt kicking his gut. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner. I had a problem by the back door and had to find a way around it.”

“I’m fine.” Meredith shook her head, as if trying to block out his words. “Are the police on the way?”

“I hope not.”

She finally landed on the last step. “Excuse me?”

“We don’t need them.”

She backed away. The move wasn’t huge, more like inches, but she shifted into a clear path for a run down the front walk to the street. “Now I’m really confused.”

Jeremy chose his words carefully. No need to spook her even more. With his luck today, she’d panic and accidentally jump in front of a car. “We need a certain level of expertise here.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Her words came out slow and measured.

Yeah, she was right on the edge of bolting. He could see it in every line of her body and in the tension stretching across her lips.

“Remember how it took me a few extra minutes to get to you and how I told you we had to get out of the house as fast as possible?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Here’s the other thing I said was important.” He hesitated until her face paled. “It’s under control now, but—”

“Jeremy, just tell me.”

“The back door is rigged with explosives.”

A NEW WAVE of panic crashed over Meredith. Her knees buckled and she would have gone right down except for the sudden touch of Jeremy’s hands under her elbows.

“Whoa.” He ducked his head until his gaze met hers. “You okay?”

“We have to get out of here.” She looked up and down the street, her movements frantic and out of control now, every cell in her body exploding into action. “Clear the neighborhood so no one gets hurt.”

“It’s fine.”

She dug her fingernails into the bare skin of his forearms. “How can you say that?”

“The trigger is hooked to the door. Well, was. I detached it.”

“So it’s safe.”

“I’m not an explosives expert, but it can’t blow unless someone rigs it again.” He let go of her and grabbed keys out of his front jeans pocket. “You’re going to get in my car and drive away from here—”

“But you said—”

“Just as a precaution.” He held up his hands as if surrendering to her. “And I’m going to wait for the team to arrive.”

She could barely hear him over the buzzing in her ears. “What team?”

“Garrett’s people.” Jeremy put the keys in her palm and closed her fingers over them.

Her mind spun and the first stupid thought in her head ran right to her mouth. “I don’t have my wallet or my license.”

The corner of Jeremy’s mouth kicked up in a smile but his eyes stayed steely cold. “Not your biggest problem at the moment.”

“I guess not.” Reality settled over her. “Tell me the truth. Are you staying calm so I don’t panic?”

His mouth opened and closed before answering. “Yes.”

“But this is bad, right?”

“Very.”

For some reason, the honesty eased the spinning ball of terror inside her. “Okay. This doesn’t have anything to do with the package, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Someone dropped off a package for Garrett. It was wrapped in brown paper and this big.” She made a square with her hands. “It stuck with me because it was so odd. Maybe that’s what the guy was looking for.”

“I think he wanted Garrett.”

She had no idea what to say to that. “Oh.”

“I’ll do a quick check.” Jeremy put his hand on the small of her back and edged her in the direction of the car. “It’s the blue Mustang. You go.”

She looked over her shoulder, about to make a comment on his car choice being the same as Garrett’s except in color, when she saw a flash in the front-door window.

Jeremy took one look at her expression and his face went blank. He spun around and raced up the porch steps. He yanked the door open then slammed it shut just as fast.

Before she could blink, he shot back down the steps, his feet barely touching as he reached for her. His hands landed on her shoulders as he half pushed, half shoved her toward the street.

Her sneakers skidded across the sidewalk at the end of the small front yard before a surge of hot air swept underneath her body, sending it airborne. Her muscles went weightless as a clap of thunder exploded behind her.

As she flew, the air stopped as if sucked up into a vacuum, then rolled back out in a rush. Burning heat licked at her from every direction. Her skin itched, feeling all prickly and singed, but all she could see was the ground rushing up to meet her face.

She would have crashed headfirst into the street but Jeremy twisted, his arms coming around her, as his back knocked against the hard cement and she slammed into his chest. Their bodies bounced and her vision blurred, then focused long enough for her to see him grimace.

With his face right next to hers, she heard his sharp inhale over what sounded like a thundering drumroll. She struggled to sit up, but he dragged her back down, pulling her under him and covering every inch of her body with his. He probably outweighed her by a good seventy pounds, and the added heat from his skin nearly suffocated her.

She peeked through the small space between his arm and the ground and saw shoes and the tires of a car stopped in the middle of the street. When she swallowed, her ears popped and the muffled echoes gave way to screaming reality. She could hear sirens and talking and someone calling her name.

Jeremy lifted his body off hers and tugged on her shoulder until she flipped to her back. The burning smell hit her, like the scent of fireplaces during the few cold days of the year, but that couldn’t be right. It was summer.

“Meredith, open your eyes.”

The command came to her in a raspy voice and she obeyed without thinking. A man loomed over her, his face dark with soot and eyes filled with concern. It took her a second to put the pieces together. “Jeremy?”

He nodded. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not sure.” She struggled to sit up.

He turned to talk to a group of people gathered around them. “Everybody step back.”

She could hear questions and bits of conversation all around her. And the crackling—it was as if someone was breaking bunches of twigs right next to her ear.

This time she grabbed on to Jeremy’s muscled arms and used him to help her crawl off the ground. He sat back on his heels, taking her with him to a sitting position.

Her heart sputtered to a stop as she sat on the sidewalk and watched the flames devour her house. The lower floor was nothing more than a mass of bright red and orange. Sparks rose into the air as the fire tore through the trees, walls, furniture—all gone.

Glass covered the grass. Upstairs, the only thing she recognized was the tattered remains of her once pretty off-white eyelet curtain blowing through the opening of what remained of her bedroom window.

“It’s just stuff,” he whispered, but his voice rose above the sirens, squealing tires and the older woman who stood in the street and wailed in horror about “the devil’s heat”…whatever that meant.

Through it all Meredith felt the heat of Jeremy’s stare and finally faced him. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He glanced down to where she had his shirt in a stranglehold.

“Sorry.” She forced her fingers to unclench.

“No problem.”

“Everything is gone.” She didn’t know she’d said the words out loud until Jeremy grunted. She looked at him again, watching him scan the crowd. Tension radiated off him as every muscle pulled taut. “Are you okay?”

“We need to get out of here.” He glanced at a point over her shoulder and gave a small nod.

“What are you—”

He stood, stopping about halfway up as his lips turned white and he swore.

“Jeremy.” Seeing him in pain, she jumped to her feet and slipped her shoulder under his arm to help him the rest of the way up. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said through clenched teeth, as he signaled to someone behind her. “At least we know what was probably in that mystery package.”

“A bomb.”

“I saw a guy hold up a cell phone, likely a secondary trigger, right before I bolted down the steps.”

Her mind rebelled. Rather than dealing with what he was saying, she shifted to nurse mode. “You need medical attention.”

“Later. We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?” She struggled under his weight. “And please say ‘to the hospital.’”

“Somewhere safe.”

When the black SUV stopped in front of them and the back door opened, she wondered if his idea of safe looked anything like hers.