that. They were almost to the top step before she spoke again; this time, her words were directed at Brett. She didn’t turn, she didn’t even call him by name, but there was no doubt who she was talking to.
“I got this.”
And then he saw why.
Crushed between Dickie’s huge frame and the corner of the porch was Kurt, the side of his face pressed against the wood siding, both arms pinned behind him by the one-handed grasp of Dickie’s meaty fist.
Grewal arrived on the scene as Hudak took the final step up onto the porch. “Mr. Garner, please step away slowly.”
This time Dickie responded to Hudak’s voice. He released Kurt’s arms, then immediately lifted his hand up next to the one already in the air, but the bulk of his body remained shoved up against Kurt as Hudak worked her cuffs around Kurt’s wrists.
“Mr. Neill, I am arresting you on charges of break and enter. You have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay.”
“I seen him over at Ellie’s again,” Dickie said, taking a step toward Brett and leaving Hudak to deal with Kurt. “Round back there after you dropped her off.”
“You also have the right—”
Kurt jerked, trying to get out of Hudak’s hold, but she didn’t give him a chance. With one swift and precise kick, she swept his feet out from under him, knocking him to his knees, never once faltering as she explained his rights to him.
With his focus split between Hudak and Dickie, Brett couldn’t see Grewal, but he could hear him coming.
“Grewal? You got this?”
“Yeah, I—”
Brett didn’t hear another word. Dickie was yelling something, but Grewal must’ve stepped up, because Dickie didn’t follow Brett; he just kept yelling.
Brett cleared Ellie’s yard in about three steps, hurtled the stairs, and slammed straight into the door. Locked. Damn it! Banging on the door and yelling at the same time, he paused only long enough to press his ear up against the wood.
Nothing. He wasn’t going to think the worst. He wasn’t. Then why was every horrible scenario he could imagine exploding inside his head at the same time? She was going to go through all that shit she’d brought home—that’s what she’d said. So where the hell was she?
Phone out, he punched in her number as he raced around back. He tripped over her bike, which she hadn’t locked up like she said she would, but somehow managed to catch his footing before wiping out. Back door: locked. Phone rang three times, then went to voice mail. Where the hell was she?
“Ellie!” More banging—still no answer. Fuck that. Elbow bent, through the flimsy square window, flip the lock, and in. He hadn’t even opened the door before the alarm started screaming.
“Ellie!” He burst through the kitchen, frantic for any sign of her. Papers and business cards strewn all over the table and…wait…was that…yup, running water. “Ell!”
Why wasn’t she answering him? Taking the stairs three at a time, he almost ripped the knob right off the bathroom door. Locked.
There was a bang, a squeal, and something came crashing down hard.
“Ellie! Are you okay?” He had no idea whose voice it was that came out of him, but it was too loud, too hard, and way too angry to be his.
“Brett?!” Freaked out, but it was her voice. Thank God. “Christ almighty—what are you doing?”
Pressing both hands flat against the door, he pressed his forehead between them and forced a breath in and out. “Open the door, Ell. Please just open the door.”
The water had already shut off, but there were a couple of painfully long seconds of shuffling before the door finally opened. There she was, a thick green towel wrapped around her body and her hair dripping all over the floor.
“What the hell? How did you even get in here?”
Brett fell back against the wall, then slid down it until he was sitting on the floor at the top of the stairs, in the same spot where they’d played Scrabble.
“What’s wrong?” Worry etched across her face as she fell to the floor next to him. “Are you okay?”
“Am I—?” It took him a couple of seconds to catch his breath, and when he finally did, it came right back out of him in a roar. “You mean besides the fact that you’re going to give me a fuckin’ stroke? Yeah, I’m great.”
“What are you—?”
“Hale?” Boots sounded downstairs. “Hale!”
“Yeah. Up here.” He had to yell it twice for her to hear it over the alarm.