Lover Undercover (McCade Brothers 1)

Imagining a murderous maniac lurking somewhere inside the building triggered her flight instinct in a big way. “I’m going,” she gasped.

“Good girl. I’m almost at the back steps. I’ll meet you there.”

Hands shaking, she fumbled with the exit bar on the back door. The latch finally gave way, and she stumbled through, completely off-balance. Even as the world tilted and the concrete rushed up to meet her, her eyes scanned the lot for Trevor. She saw him running her way, but as he ascended the first step, a hulking figure in dark clothing and a ski mask broke away from the shadows between the stairs and the wall of the building. A blunt object glinted at the end of his upraised arm.

Kylie screamed at the same time the arm began a powerful downward arc. Trevor started to turn, feinted left, and grunted as the makeshift mace connected with his head. The next instant, he tumbled facedown on the asphalt. The heavy, hollow thud of something solid connecting with flesh and bone reached her ears like a radio signal on a five-second delay.

She screamed again—his name this time—and scrambled down the stairs to where he lay crumpled and unconscious. The attacker stood stock-still for a second, as if shocked by her presence. Then a voice in the distance yelled, “Freeze!”

Nobody froze. Momentum didn’t permit her to do anything except continue closing the distance to Trevor. The assailant took off down the narrow alley behind the buildings. Ian approached at a full run, shouting instructions into a phone…radio…something. “Officer down! Repeat, officer down! Hernandez, get your ass over to the mouth of alley and cut this bastard off.” Without breaking stride he yelled, “He breathing?”

Oh, God. Was he? With a burst of strength born from adrenaline, she rolled Trevor over, almost crying with relief when she heard his low groan of protest. “Yes!” The relief evaporated when she saw his face. Blood flowed freely and copiously from a cut near his temple.

“Stay with him,” Ian barked as he flew by. “Ambulance is on the way.”

Chapter Thirteen

Trevor hated emergency rooms. He hated getting scanned and stitched. He hated concussions. Most of all, he hated Ian telling him the perpetrator got away.

About the only thing he didn’t hate was having Kylie glued to his side whenever some nurse, doctor, or technician wasn’t shooing her away so they could inflict more torture on him. Of course, he gladly would have traded her worry and guilt for less tear-inducing emotions, but one thing seemed fairly obvious to him, even with his somewhat fuzzy head. She cared. A lot. Whether she liked it or not.

By the time the ER finally spat him out, the sun had dawned skull-splittingly bright against a cloudless, electric blue sky in the City of Angels. Despite his protests, he found himself propped between Kylie and Ian, and walked to the curbside pickup/drop-off zone like a ninety-year-old invalid. Seeing the yellow Bug pulled up to the curb improved his mood slightly. He liked his ride home, at any rate.

Kylie ran around to the driver’s side while Ian held the passenger door and helped him into the seat.

“Captain said he doesn’t want to see your face before Wednesday.”

“What will you do without me ’til then?

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. He wants to see my ass ASAP.”

“Hey, what happened wasn’t your fault. Tell him—”

“He knows. I already explained we had an unforeseen factor in play,” Ian said quietly. Their eyes flicked over to Kylie, but she’d turned to reach for her seat belt and didn’t appear to have heard. “Anyway, I’m going to keep digging into backgrounds. Maybe our man has kept his official record clean, but somebody, somewhere, has seen this guy’s dark side.”

Trevor nodded, and then winced as pain sliced through his head. “E-mail me some of the files. I’ll dig, too.”

Ian stood and shut the door. “You can start digging on Wednesday.”

“I’ve got a concussion, not brain damage. I can read, type a few e-mails. I can dial a phone.”

“Hmm.” Ian’s eyes drifted back to Kylie. “I’m thinking, if you play your cards right, you’re going to be otherwise occupied.”

Oblivious, Kylie leaned across the interior of the car until she could see Ian out the passenger-side window. “Can you continue this later? The doctor said Trevor’s supposed to rest.”

Ian grinned. “We’re done. He’s all yours, Ky. Take him home and put him to bed.” The lazy wink he added was, in Trevor’s opinion, neither subtle nor discreet, but Kylie was too busy gunning the engine to catch the insinuation. As soon as she pulled away from the curb, it became apparent exactly where her thoughts were.

“Are you dizzy? In pain? Do you need me to stop for anything?”

“I’m fine. Looking forward to being home.”

She glanced at him, her expression uncertain. “Are you sure? You look pale and your eyes are kind of squinty. The doctor recommended ibuprofen for the pain. I should stop at the drugstore and pick some up.”

“My eyes are squinty because it’s bright out here.” He closed them and settled back in the seat, shifting around until he found a reasonably comfortable position in the compact space. “I have ibuprofen at home if the headache gets to be more than I can stand.”

“Okay. Straight home. Go ahead and take a little nap if you feel sleepy. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“I’m fine. Honest,” he replied, not bothering to lift his eyelids, which suddenly felt as if they weighed a ton. “I don’t need a nap. I’m just resting my eyes.”