Dream Of You - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,17

home,” I said. “But I’m telling you now.”

Reece opened his mouth but seemed to rethink what he was saying. “I’ll be right back.” Stepping outside, I saw him lift his phone.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I got up and accomplished what Reece had suggested. I checked everywhere, concentrating on my office and my bedroom. Nothing of any value was missing, which is what I told Reece when he appeared in my room.

I knew what the brick through the window was.

A message.

As I stood in front of my untouched jewelry box, I shuddered. Message was received, but that didn’t mean I was going to listen. I’d already told the one officer and Reece, and I would tell Colton.

“Abby?” a deep voice boomed from downstairs. “Reece?”

I turned at the sound of Colton’s voice and Reece’s answering, “We’re up here.”

A handful of seconds later, Colton appeared in the doorway. He had changed since this morning, wearing a different police-issued polo. His blue eyes were fastened on me as he stepped into the bedroom.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“She’s okay,” Reece answered, and then rolled his eyes when Colton shot him a look.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, smoothing my hands along my skirt. “I’m just shook up.”

Colton crossed the room and within a heartbeat, he was standing right in front of me. One hand curled around the back of my neck in a familiar, comforting gesture. The other landed on my shoulder. Our eyes locked, and my lips parted.

“The man at the store, he didn’t harm you or anything?” he demanded, his gaze intently searching mine.

“No,” I whispered, swallowing hard. “He just told me that I…I needed to keep my mouth shut. That I better not identify anyone from last night. And then he said that I’d understand quickly how serious the message is.”

A muscle flexed along Colton’s jaw as his gaze swept over my face. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I was going to. I was picking up my phone to call you, but you called me first. I was so caught off guard by what was happening here that I focused on that,” I explained.

His hand tightened along the nape of my neck. It wasn’t a constrictive or threatening move. It was one that was oddly tender. Intimate. Way beyond what he had to do, as a member of law enforcement, to comfort me.

The moment, whatever was going on between us, stretched out. There was something there, a jolt. Like touching a live wire. He sucked in an audible breath. His fingers spread along my shoulder, and the sudden urge to obliterate the tiny distance between us, to press my body against his, rode me hard. Without thinking, I stepped forward.

Reece cleared his throat.

Flushing, I looked away from the unnerving intensity in Colton’s gaze. A shiver chased after his hand as it slipped off the back of my neck and dropped to his side.

“I need you to tell me exactly what happened at the store,” Colton said after a moment, his voice rougher than normal.

I did exactly that.

It was odd to have both Colton and Reece in my bedroom. Their presence made it feel much smaller than it was. Any other time I would’ve been amused by having two extraordinarily attractive brothers who were also cops standing in front of me, but I was too thrown by everything.

The murder last night.

Colton showing up this morning with crepes.

Creepy van dude.

Vandalized property.

And now the way Colton behaved when he showed up and that…that spark? My skin was still tingling.

All within twenty-four hours. It was insane. My life was normally boring.

By the time I answered all of Colton’s questions, it was just us in the house. Reece had left not too long after the other officer to answer another call, and it was close to ten.

Colton had gone downstairs to make a few calls and I was slow to follow him. A warm breeze stirred the curtains in front of the broken window and may gaze drifted to the floor. The glass was gone. The TV was also righted, its broken face a sad sight.

Stepping off the stairs, I looked into the kitchen just in time to see Colton dumping the glass in the trash can. He was still on the phone.

“That’s what I thought,” I heard him say as he placed the dustpan on the counter. “You know how he operates. We all know how he works.” There was a pause as he turned around. His eyes met mine. “Yeah,” he spoke into the