“I don’t . . . what?” She shook her head. “No. It’s fine. I just need to concentrate.”
She seemed to go over some invisible edge. She didn’t stop moving. Her eyes stayed wide and she didn’t blink. Then she started to babble. She said something about her uncle and started listing out all the documents that should be in her boxes.
She stopped walking around in circles and rubbed her hands together. “No, that’s not the right order. I’m missing some and I can’t miss any.”
Jesus. “Emery.”
“I’ll start over.” She waved her hand and then went back to the beginning of the list again, stopping only long enough to mention the names of potential kidnappers, of the men the police had already excluded.
Seeing her this way, so detached from reality and removed from her usual strength, killed him. He needed her calm and rational. He wanted her somewhere safe.
He also wanted his guys in there, doing a thorough search, checking every corner and every fingerprint. Setting up as much surveillance equipment as possible. That meant taking her out of there and keeping her away until the panic washed away and he could be ready to prevent another attack. Not an easy task.
After a quick run through his options, he went with the easiest one. The one guaranteed to piss her off later when she slipped back into being herself, but he’d take the heat if it meant figuring out who was trying to blow up her personal life.
“You’re going to . . .” He pressed on the right spot. Careful and quick, but it had her gasping. Then nothing. “Fall over.”
The papers in her hands fell to the floor and scattered as her body went limp. He caught her in his arms and lifted her off the floor. For a second, he just stood there, holding her in the silence. Enjoying the feel of her. The warmth of her body.
His gaze roamed around the room. He looked for any evidence no matter how tiny that would clue him in about the danger haunting her life these days. From what he could tell, she’d gone a lifetime without being pursued and watched. Now this.
Someone kept getting into her building and this time into her most personal space. There were scuff marks around the lock on the door, but Wren wasn’t convinced they showed a forced entry. The person came by when she wasn’t there. Possibly a coincidence or maybe someone who knew her schedule. Add in Tyler’s sudden reappearance and her public attempt to get Tiffany’s case back on anyone’s radar, and the threat of danger became all too real.
“Keith?” The door opened as soon as Wren called out.
The bodyguard stood there frowning as he looked at Emery’s sprawl with her hair hanging over his arm. “What happened? Is she okay?”
“She’s asleep.”
Keith’s frown only deepened. “She was walking around as if—”
There was no need to tiptoe around this. “I knocked her out.”
This time Keith made a face. “Was that wise?”
Oh, hell, no. He might have trouble with people and knowing how to act and what might upset others, but Wren knew this move was not going to go over well. He was not a complete dumbass. He’d pay for this no matter how well intentioned the move was. “Definitely not. She’s going to be pissed and rightly so.”
“Then why do it?”
Wren had asked himself that question so many times. He should be able to treat Emery like any other client in any other case—with cool detachment. But he couldn’t maintain the separation. She smiled and he felt it deep inside. She took him on, pushed back, and his attraction to her flared.
But he wasn’t about to explain any of that. Not when he didn’t understand it at all and wasn’t ready to analyze it. “She was spinning.”
“Sure.”
Wren wasn’t used to being on the defensive. “I want her safe and she wasn’t exactly in the mood to listen to logic and accept my protection.”
“I see.”
That was the least convincing response Wren had ever heard. “Do you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Which is your way of telling me I’m in deep shit?”
Keith nodded. “Yes, sir. Absolutely.”
“I was hoping you’d disagree with me.” Sometimes Wren wished he’d surrounded himself with people who told him what he wanted to hear. Doing the opposite had been a sound business decision, but damn, it sucked to have people right there telling him when he screwed up. “Finish whatever forensics you need then call Detective Cryer. Tell him Emery was out when you found her apartment like this.”
“The police will look for her. They might worry she’s been harmed or taken.”
They better or he’d work behind the scenes to have them fired for incompetency. “Tell them she’s with me. The detective has my contact information and can call.”
“You think that will be good enough to keep them from asking more questions?”
For the detective for now, yes. For Emery, no. He’d have to start explaining the second she woke up. Even then . . . “I’ll make it be.”
CHAPTER 19