while growling, “Shit, Kimberly. Shit.” Whirling around, he raced down the steps, shoving his gun into his pocket. He continued through the first floor to the door of the kitchen. As soon as he was outside, he ran down several alleys until he came to his parked vehicle. Climbing inside, he wheezed, trying to catch his breath while his insides quaked. Swallowing deeply, he attempted to slow his racing heart, concentrating on breathing.
Knowing he needed to get out of the area, he fumbled with the ignition before placing his still-shaking hands on the steering wheel. Pulling out onto the road, he drove with caution, not wanting to bring undue attention to himself. I shot her. A nervous grunt erupted from deep in his chest at the thought. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he realized he had no idea if she was alive or dead. If she was still alive, at least she wouldn’t be able to identify him.
Dragging in another shaky breath, he hated what he’d done, but was glad it was over. He was surprised they asked him to do it, but then they trusted him. Heartbeat settling as the adrenaline slowed, he continued driving, each mile allowing him to breathe easier.
Kyle jerked awake at the sound of his phone. Used to middle-of-the-night calls, he snagged his cell phone from the nightstand. Seeing Carter’s name on the ID, his heart lurched, and he barked, “Talk to me. Is it Tara? Colleen?” He flipped on the lamp next to the bed and stood, immediately stalking toward the closet.
“No, it’s neither of them. It’s Kimberly.”
His chest depressed as air rushed from his lungs, and he grabbed hold of the doorframe to steady his legs. Brow furrowed, he asked, “What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Just tell me this first, Kyle. Do you know where she is?”
“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ looking at her right now!” His gaze bore straight at her as she sat up in his bed staring at him, confusion marring her expression.
25
Kimberly glanced at the driver’s side of the truck cab but chose to remain silent. The intense emotions pouring off Kyle filled the cab, and his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel caused her to wonder how it did not snap under the pressure. Anger and fear combined into a rage that made her afraid. Not afraid for herself but for whoever he let loose on, depending on what they found once they arrived back at her rowhouse.
“You should’ve stayed at my place.”
Ice dripped from each word. Keeping calm, she replied, “I need to be here. If Bob needs me—”
“He’s already been taken to the hospital.”
She sucked in a quick breath. The idea of her neighbor being shot while sleeping rocked through her once again. Kyle had not given her much information, but from what she discerned from Carter’s call, the police had reason to believe that someone was after her. But then why go into Bob’s house? Why shoot him? She wanted to ask but knew Kyle wasn’t in the mood to talk. Turning her head, she looked out the passenger window as they hurried onto her street.
Another gasp left her lips as she viewed the number of police cars lining the area in front of the row houses. The early morning light was just beginning to cut through the night, casting the entire block with an eerie glow. Yellow caution tape had been strung up from the edge of her house to the road and around the corner, keeping the gathering onlookers at bay. Bob’s front door was open, and several people were going in and out, blue paper booties on their feet and gloves on their hands.
Kyle turned the corner by Bob’s house and parked in the middle of the blocked-off street. From here, she could see that the caution tape extended down the sidewalk by the side of Bob’s house and around the back alley to where their back doors were located. Questions flew through her mind, but she said nothing, shock making it difficult to draw enough oxygen into her lungs.
Kyle jumped down from the driver’s seat, barking a one-word order. “Stay.”
Biting her tongue to keep from screaming, ‘I’m not a dog!’, she jerked her head around and watched as he stalked toward Carter, Alex, and another man. Sighing heavily, she knew that he was right to tell her to stay in the vehicle. The stark reminder that Bob’s home was a crime scene deflated her irritation. He was shot… in bed.