Targeted Risk (R.I.S.C. #7) - Anna Blakely Page 0,17

and some of the wet strands stuck to the sides of her neck. “Look, I just need to know what I should do. I mean, are they going to do a thorough search of this place, or...”

“They might.”

“Shit.”

That feeling from earlier became even more unsettling. Though their time together prior to today had pretty much been a whirlwind romance, they’d gotten to know each other well. The important parts, anyway. And even when he had her thinking he was there for her protection, he’d never seen her this antsy.

“What’s going on, Jules?”

“What’s going on is I need you to help me get those guns out of here without any of them noticing.” She tipped her chin toward the men and women outside.

Mike ran a hand over his jaw. “Tell me where they are.”

The relief flooding her beautiful face gutted him. “There’s one taped beneath the sink in the bathroom in the hallway, and the one downstairs. There’s also one taped beneath the coffee table in the living room, and there’s a shotgun behind the bookshelf there.”

Holy shit. “Okay.” He thought for a moment. “Shotgun’s gonna have to stay, but I can get the others.”

“What should I do?”

Mike pointed to the people outside. “Keep them busy.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Ask them some questions. But nothing that will make it look like you’re fishing.”

“Gee, thanks.” She rolled her baby blues. “That helps a lot.”

His dick twitched behind his zipper, because her sassy side had always turned him on. “Just make conversation, Jules. Ask if there’s anything else they need from you before you leave. Look at the body, and, I don’t know...try to conjure up some tears or something.”

“You want me to cry?”

“Why not? They’ll want to offer you sympathy, which will draw out the conversation.” Resting his palm against her cheek, he offered her a small smile. “I’ll meet you back up here. And don’t worry. I’ll be quick.”

Procuring the weapons was easier than he’d first thought, since the only other officers left on the premises were the two standing guard outside the front door. Mike even managed to slide the shotgun even further behind the bookshelf, toward the middle where it was virtually out of sight.

The question of why the hell she’d hidden weapons all over the fucking place kept running through his head, along with the fact that she’d bought them from some back-alley arms dealer.

Mike expected that sort of behavior from her brothers or her father. But the Juliet he knew would never have pulled such a dangerous stunt.

Maybe you don’t know her as well as you thought you did.

No. This was his Jules. If she bought the guns the way she claimed, there had to be a good reason.

Not yours, anymore. Remember?

“Shut the fuck up.”

Great. It was bad enough the tiny voice in his head was right. Now he was talking back to it, too.

Mentally cursing himself all the way up the stairs, Mike found Juliet exactly where he’d told her to be...outside her bedroom, talking with the man in charge.

Swiping a tear from her cheek, she caught his eye as he walked through the open door.

“Did you get everything packed?”

Juliet nodded. “I’m ready whenever you are.” She then offered Detective Morales a slight smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Morales shook her hand once more. “Oh, one more thing. When we spoke privately before, you told me the deceased man didn’t say anything to you during your struggle. Are you absolutely sure about that? I mean, he didn’t give you any indication as to why he broke in or was trying to kill you?”

“No.” Juliet shook her head. “Like I said, he didn’t say a word to me.”

The delicate muscles beneath Juliet’s left eye twitched slightly. An indiscernible movement to most, but Mike caught it. Between that and his having heard the bastard saying something to her when he’d first arrived, he knew...

She’s lying.

“Okay.” Morales bought her story. “Unfortunately, the world is full of sick people who do things for no reason other than they can.” He shook her hand once more. “I appreciate your cooperation, Miss Farrow. And...I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“Thanks.”

“Mr. Reynolds.” The man held out his hand for Mike, as well.

“Detective.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

I’m sure you will be. “Looking forward to it.”

After a half-second stare down, the two men parted ways and Mike and Juliet went back inside. Grabbing her suitcase and toiletry bag as they walked past her bed, he escorted her to his truck.

“Wait.” She grabbed his arm. “Lydia!”

“Who’s Lydia?”

“My cat. I can’t