Night Watch (Kendra Michaels #4)

He was silent for a long moment. “You’re right. I don’t believe it.”


“I’m still having a tough time believing it myself. Though it was a dose of cold reality when she accused me of being stupid when I started asking her questions instead of doing what she told me to do. She came out of nowhere and laid them out with a stun gun.”

“How long has it been?”

“Just a few minutes.”

“Okay, I’m calling Griffin and the cops and have them go there. Give me the address.”

Kendra gave him the building’s street address. “It was the third floor. I’ll meet them there when they—”

“No. Get someplace safe. Maybe your mother’s house.”

That sounded exactly like what she wanted to do, she thought. And then maybe curl up in bed and put her head under the covers. She couldn’t do it. “I’m going back there.”

“The hell you are.”

“I was there. It happened to me. I can help.” Kendra turned down a side street and pulled up to the curb. “I just pulled over. I’ll wait fifteen minutes before I go back. I’ll hang back from a safe distance, and I won’t go in until I see the squad cars.”

“Just this once, I wish you would—”

“I’ll see you there, Lynch.”

She cut the connection.

*

“I’M NOT SURE ALL THIS WAS really necessary,” Kendra said as she eyed the four cruisers and two unmarked police cars in the office-building parking lot. She stepped toward Special Agent Roland Metcalf who was waiting for her in the parking lot.

Metcalf smiled. “When Kendra Michaels snaps her fingers…”

“Not funny. Cut the sarcasm. Anybody inside?”

“No. Two uniformed officers were first on the scene. They did a sweep, but the men who attacked you had already left.” He shrugged. “Dancing with the Stars is on tonight. How could you compete? Can’t really blame ’em.”

She managed a smile. She could always count on Metcalf to try to defuse any tense situation. He was a tall, good-looking man in his midtwenties, and Lynch was sure he had a major crush on her.

Metcalf didn’t return her smile. “Hey, you look pretty rough. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Fine. One of the guys got a solid punch between my shoulders and literally struck a nerve, but I’m feeling better now.”

He nodded. “Good. Adam Lynch filled us in, but I’m going to need a full statement from you. San Diego PD will want one, too.”

“No problem. As soon as I get a look up there.”

Two strong arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind. Kendra jumped and let out a startled yelp.

She turned to see that it was Lynch and drew a relieved breath. She backed away from him with her hand to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Guess I’m still jumpy.”

“Shit.” Lynch shook his head. “I’m an ass. I’m the one who should apologize. I don’t know what I was thinking after what you’ve just gone through. I saw you standing there and I just wanted to—” He repeated, “I’m an ass. I’m sorry, Kendra.”

“That’s okay.” She was as much surprised by Lynch’s action as her own case of nerves. Lynch was always cool and contained and seldom displayed any emotion but mockery. “It might not have been your fault. My back took a hit.”

“Did it?” His lips tightened. “I’ll have to remember…”

“Do you still want to go up?” Metcalf was frowning. He was obviously surprised and uneasy with Lynch’s show of protectiveness. “Maybe you should—”

“I want to go,” she interrupted. “Let’s do it.”

Kendra led them into the building and up the stairs, giving them a step-by-step description of her visit there only minutes before. As she drew closer to the scene of her confrontation, she found her slight nervousness giving away to anger.

Anger at those bastards for making her feel helpless and unsafe.

Anger at herself for showing fear in front of Metcalf, Lynch, and those cops in the parking lot.

She was practically steaming by the time she stepped onto the third floor.

Lynch squeezed her arm. “I’m sensing a bit of tension or more likely gale-force winds. Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She clenched her jaw. “I’m sure as hell not letting them get into my head.”

“Good.”

She pointed ahead. “I put one of them down right there, but the other struck me in the middle of the back and dragged me into that office.” She led them through the open door, where three uniformed officers were standing around the green fifty-five-gallon drum.

Kendra glanced around. “This is all you found?”

“Yes, ma’am,” one of the officers replied. “Not sure what this barrel is for.”