I wasn’t sure why he was bothering, but I wasn’t going to argue about spending more time in his company. Not when he’d looked even better this morning than he had last night.
I didn’t expect what we found when I opened the door. Who in the hell would expect something like that? But Carter’s reaction didn’t give me the opportunity to slip into shock. I was too busy watching him.
He’d stared at the mess for a full minute before turning around and making a few angry sounding phone calls in the hall—leaving the door wide open to keep an eye on me at all times.
Like I’m five.
By the time police arrived, I was vacillating between irritation at his high-handedness and sexual attraction for the pacing, controlling, overprotective beast. Yeah, I know, but I can’t help it. Everything about Carter does it for me.
“This happened after they attacked him last night and after we filed the report. Are you telling me they aren’t in custody yet?”
He wasn’t yelling, but he had his, “Drop and give me twenty” face on and the young officer on the scene looked like he might piss his pants. “Not yet, sir. We’ve managed to get a hold of a cousin, but he hasn’t heard from them and thinks they might be staying with an unknown friend. Laying low.”
My sigh is loud enough to draw their attention. “What about Toni?”
“Your neighbor? She’s missing too. Her apartment looks like it got hit by the same tornado yours did, but half the clothes in her closet are gone, as well as most of her toiletries. That gives every appearance of someone packing to leave in a hurry.”
At least he let her take her clothes. From the stories she’d told me, he wouldn’t have wanted to see anything she’d gotten without his explicit approval. Asshole. “Any signs she left against her will?”
Dark eyes snap to me but I keep my attention on the cute cop. “We can’t rule it out, but with their history and her hand in last night’s attack it doesn’t seem likely.” He offers me a sympathetic smile. “I know you’ve said she was a friend, but in long term abuse cases like this, people rarely act in the best interests of their friends and family. It’s not a conscious decision. Just survival instinct.”
I know that, but I don’t want to believe it, especially not about Toni. “I wish I knew if she was alright.”
I wish I’d been able to see what was happening before it was too late.
“You’re a good man.” He moves forward to pat me awkwardly on the shoulder. “I guarantee we’ll do everything we can to find all three of them.”
I’m about to thank him when his hand disappears and a wall of flexing back muscles encased in another snug t-shirt obstructs my view. Does he buy them a size smaller on purpose or something? Showoff.
“If you’re done here, JD needs to pack a few things so we can go.”
“Go where?” I’m not sure what he’s talking about. I’m too busy being mesmerized by his exceptional…trapezius? Is that what it’s called? Whatever it is, I like it. I think I need to take an anatomy class or three so I know exactly what I’m drooling over. Maybe he’d donate his body to my research.
“R-right,” the poor guy stutters. “It’s pretty clear who’s responsible, even if we didn’t have witnesses in the building who’d seen the men coming and going. We’ll update the APB, and I’ll need Mr. Green to make a list of anything damaged or missing.”
He’s already told me the likelihood of getting anything back is negligible. Why do I have to make a list? Salt for the wound? Way to rub it in my face that when the two imbeciles hadn’t been allowed to hit me as much as they wanted to, they’d taken their thwarted angst out on my furniture. And my dishes. And my television…
I stand and move around the obstacle that is Carter Willis with my attempt at a grateful smile. “I’ll do that first thing. Thank you for the fast response.”
His grin is relieved. “Anytime, Mr. Green. By the way, I love your work. I never miss your column, or any of your diaries. It’s amazing how you can manage to be so funny and compassionate at the sam—”
Before he can finish, Carter is herding him out the door. “We’ll be in touch with the list and for an update on the manhunt.”
That was rude.
And hot.
But rude.
“Is it the uniform?” I ask lightly as I pull the irritating hair away from my face with a rubber band, grab a garbage bag and start to pick up pieces of broken plate and glass.
“Is what the uniform?” He leans against the door, rubbing his palms over his face as if he’s still tired.