“Wow,” she gasped, as the frissons of fear evaporated once she recognized him. No one else roamed the hallways this time of night except for him. She should have known better. “Sorry I took a swing at you, Dr. Watson.” She couldn’t even summon the giggly response she usually had when she said his name and conjured up thoughts of medical sidekicks and brainy British detectives. Not when she was embarrassingly aware of his hard runner’s body pressed against hers. Nothing to giggle about there. The full-body contact lasted another awkward moment. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Of course not.” Once he seemed certain she recognized him as a friend and didn’t have to defend himself, Niall Watson released his grip on her arm and stepped away, leaving a distinct chill in place of that surprising male heat that had pinned her to the wall. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”
“I thought you...were someone else.”
“Who? Were you expecting someone?”
“I, um...” She wasn’t about to explain her paranoid suspicions about ape man or Roger and the silver car, so she covered her rattled state by stooping down to retrieve her glove and phone. “Sorry if I woke you. I’ve had a break-in. I thought this was supposed to be a secure building in a safe neighborhood, but I guess there’s no place that’s truly safe if someone is determined to get to you. That’s probably why I swung first. A girl has to take care of herself, you know. I’d better call the police.”
Niall Watson’s long fingers reached her phone first. He scooped it up and tapped the screen clear. “A 911 call won’t be necessary.”
Frowning at his high-handedness, Lucy tilted her face up. “Why not?” She was halfway to making eye contact when she saw the crimson spots staining his rolled-up sleeve. She stuffed her loose glove into her pocket, along with her phone, and touched her fingertip to the red stains on the wrinkled white cotton clinging to his long, muscular forearm. There were more droplets of blood on the other sleeve, too. Irritation vanished, and she piled concern for him onto the fears that had already worn her ragged today.
“Are you hurt? Did you stop the intruder?” She grasped his wrist in her hand, much the same way he’d manhandled her, and twisted it to find the wound. Despite the tempting awareness at his toasty-warm skin beneath her chilled fingers, she was more interested in learning what had happened. She knew he was affiliated with the police. Had he stepped in to prevent a burglar from ransacking her place? Had Roger followed his release from prison with a road trip to Kansas City? Had Diana shown up while she was searching the city for her? Now she looked up and met those narrowed cobalt eyes. “Have you already called for help? Do I need to take you to the hospital?”
A dark eyebrow arched above the rim of his glasses before he glanced down to see the source of her concern. Blinking away his apparent confusion, he pulled out of her grip to splay his fingers at his waist. “This isn’t my blood.”
“Then whose...?” His stance drew her attention to the holster strapped to his belt. Had she ever seen Niall Watson wearing a gun before? His badge, yes. But she’d never seen the erudite professional looking armed and dangerous the way he did tonight. Had he just come from a crime scene? “You wore a tuxedo to work?” Wait. Not his blood. That meant... A stone of dread plummeted into Lucy’s stomach. Was that Diana’s blood? “Oh, God.” Before he could say anything, she spun around and shoved open the door to her apartment. “Diana?” Niall Watson was a doctor. But he wasn’t hurt. That meant someone else was. “Diana? Are you here?”
She called out again for some sign that the young woman she’d been searching the city for all day and night had somehow shown up here.
The vise clamped over her wrist again and pulled her back to the door. “Miss McKane.”
“Let go of me.” She yanked her arm free and charged toward the mess on the couch. “Diana?” She paused a moment to sift through the pile of unraveling yarn and interrupted projects before snatching up the overturned basket and inspecting the insides. Lucy always kept a twenty or two hidden beneath her work. The only other person who knew where she stockpiled for a rainy day was Diana. “She was here. She took the cash,” she whispered, her sense of dread growing exponentially.
“So it was a robbery?”
She startled at the deep voice beside her. “What? No. I would gladly give her the money.”
“Give who the money?”
“Diana?” Lucy tossed the basket onto the couch and took off for the light in the kitchen.
But she hadn’t taken two steps before Niall Watson’s arm cinched around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. “Miss McKane. There’s nothing for you to see here. I need you to come with me.”
She gasped at the unexpected contact with a muscled torso and the surprising warmth that seemed to surround her instantly and seep through the layers of coat and clothing she wore. “Nothing? I have to...” For a split second, her fingers tightened their grip around the arm at her waist, needing his strength. She’d had a bad feeling all day. Diana Kozlow hadn’t shown up for a long-overdue lunch and gab session. And then that phone call...
If the answer was here—even one she didn’t want to be true—Lucy had to see for herself. With a renewed sense of urgency, she pushed the doctor’s arm and body heat away and turned. “You need to stop grabbing me, Doctor. I appreciate your concern, but I have to—”
She shoved at his chest, but he released her waist only to seize her by the shoulders. He squeezed enough to give her a little shake and hunched his face down to hers. “Lucy. If you would please listen.”
Lucy? Her struggles stilled as she assessed the stern expression stamped on his chiseled features. When had her taciturn neighbor ever addressed her as anything but a polite Miss McKane? That couldn’t be good. The tight grip on her upper arms and the piercing intensity of those blue eyes looking straight at her weren’t any kind of reassurance, either. She curled her fingers into the wrinkled cotton of his shirt and nodded, preparing herself for the news she didn’t want to hear. “What’s wrong? What’s happened? Did you see a young woman here? Is she...” Lucy swallowed hard. “Is she okay?”
He eased his grip and straightened, raking one hand through his short muss of espresso-colored hair as he inhaled a deep breath. But he kept the other hand on her arm as if he suspected she might bolt again. “If you would come with me.” He pulled her back into the hallway and closed the door to her condo behind them. “I need to ask you some questions.”
Now he wanted to talk? After all those friendly overtures she’d made to her seriously hunky and completely-oblivious-to-a-lady-dropping-a-hint neighbor, tonight of all nights was when he wanted to have a private conversation with her? Somehow she doubted that he’d finally clued in on the crush she had on him. Preparing herself for a worst-case scenario, Lucy planted her feet before blithely following him into his condo. “Just tell me. Did you find a dead body in there? You told me you were a medical examiner during one of our elevator rides together when I first moved in. That’s when I told you I was a social worker—that I’ve seen some pretty awful things, too. But my bodies weren’t dead like yours. Just damaged in one way or another.” Her mouth was rambling ahead of her brain. “I’m sorry. But you can tell me. Is this a crime scene? Is that why I can’t go in there?” She touched the blood on his sleeve again. Although it was dry, its presence was disturbing. “Is this Diana’s? Don’t feel you have to spare my feelings. I’ve been sick out of my mind with worry all day. I just need a straight answer about what’s happened. I can deal with anything—I’m good at that—as long as I know what I’m facing.”
“You can deal with anything?” He angled his head to the side and his eyes narrowed, as if her plaintive assertion baffled him. Then he shook his head. “There is no dead body,” he answered