she’d made the decision to find help for her starving, neglected brother and herself, Hope knew she couldn’t hide in her room and wait for someone to rescue them. She had to venture out and save herself.
Hope tied her blue chenille robe snugly around her waist and took a deep breath before leaving her room. The polished oak planks that ran the length of the entire loft were cool beneath her bare feet. The automatic coffeemaker in the kitchen was bubbling to life and filling her apartment with the rich, warm aroma of fresh java.
But the same odd light was bouncing through her living and dining room area now. When it sliced across the white pillars and exposed brick and hit her eyes again, she tiptoed to the bank of windows facing the street and looked down. As she pulled aside the curtain and leaned closer to the pane of glass, trying to make out a face to go with the gloved hands on the steering wheel below, she heard the engine revving to life. The silver SUV pulled out of its parking space and headed down the street—not an early riser coming to work, but a late-night partier finally going home, most likely.
Funny. Generally, the patrons of the nightspots down the block and around the corner parked in one of the garages down there. It wasn’t unheard of on a busy weekend to see cars parked this far up the street, and even in her private lot outside the shop. But on a Tuesday morning? Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Maybe not so funny. It was perfectly likely that the man she’d seen Saturday night had more than one vehicle. He was probably too smart to come back to her place in the van she’d already seen.
“You’re making too much of it,” she whispered against the glass, trying to calm her racing pulse. “He wasn’t watching you. You don’t even know it was him.”
Still, the nervous instincts refused to completely dissipate. Reflecting lights and unfamiliar vehicles weren’t the only differences in her regular morning routine. She had other reasons to be a little jumpy this morning. Her homey, countrified decor now included a large gray kennel with a steel mesh gate. The smells in her home were different, too. There was a slight pungency of dog food and heat from the beast dozing in said kennel. Even the sounds were different. In the early morning quiet before downtown Kansas City came to life again, she heard a soft, even snore coming from her guest room.
Maybe she should report the SUV. Just in case she was right to be worried about strange vehicles parked in front of her shop. A panic attack was embarrassing. But not responding to a real threat could be downright dangerous. Her footsteps took her back down the hallway.
She’d made a deal with KCPD—for LaDonna Chambers, for her late friend Janie Harrison, for her client Bailey Austin, for the women who lived and worked and played in this neighborhood, to end that threat. She’d made the deal to help capture the Rose Red Rapist for herself. Because she deserved to feel safe in her own home and shop. She’d gone to bed a shy woman who lurked in the background of society, and she’d woken up to a very different, unfamiliar world where she had to take action and play a starring role.
Hope paused outside the second bedroom and pushed the sleepy tumble of hair off her face. As much as her heart and conscience wanted to do this undercover job to help the police, her father’s voice inside her head was telling her she was doomed to fail. She could never pull this off—being the fictitious fiancée to one of Kansas City’s finest, playing the part of would-be witness to draw a dangerous man into KCPD’s trap.
“You’re too much of a coward, girl. Now quit thinkin’ on your own and dreamin’ those stupid dreams, and do what I tell you.”
“Shut up, Hank,” she whispered, pushing open the door and peeking inside. She’d gotten her brother away from their father’s prison. She’d started her own business. She supported herself more
Hope tied her blue chenille robe snugly around her waist and took a deep breath before leaving her room. The polished oak planks that ran the length of the entire loft were cool beneath her bare feet. The automatic coffeemaker in the kitchen was bubbling to life and filling her apartment with the rich, warm aroma of fresh java.
But the same odd light was bouncing through her living and dining room area now. When it sliced across the white pillars and exposed brick and hit her eyes again, she tiptoed to the bank of windows facing the street and looked down. As she pulled aside the curtain and leaned closer to the pane of glass, trying to make out a face to go with the gloved hands on the steering wheel below, she heard the engine revving to life. The silver SUV pulled out of its parking space and headed down the street—not an early riser coming to work, but a late-night partier finally going home, most likely.
Funny. Generally, the patrons of the nightspots down the block and around the corner parked in one of the garages down there. It wasn’t unheard of on a busy weekend to see cars parked this far up the street, and even in her private lot outside the shop. But on a Tuesday morning? Her heart rate kicked up a notch. Maybe not so funny. It was perfectly likely that the man she’d seen Saturday night had more than one vehicle. He was probably too smart to come back to her place in the van she’d already seen.
“You’re making too much of it,” she whispered against the glass, trying to calm her racing pulse. “He wasn’t watching you. You don’t even know it was him.”
Still, the nervous instincts refused to completely dissipate. Reflecting lights and unfamiliar vehicles weren’t the only differences in her regular morning routine. She had other reasons to be a little jumpy this morning. Her homey, countrified decor now included a large gray kennel with a steel mesh gate. The smells in her home were different, too. There was a slight pungency of dog food and heat from the beast dozing in said kennel. Even the sounds were different. In the early morning quiet before downtown Kansas City came to life again, she heard a soft, even snore coming from her guest room.
Maybe she should report the SUV. Just in case she was right to be worried about strange vehicles parked in front of her shop. A panic attack was embarrassing. But not responding to a real threat could be downright dangerous. Her footsteps took her back down the hallway.
She’d made a deal with KCPD—for LaDonna Chambers, for her late friend Janie Harrison, for her client Bailey Austin, for the women who lived and worked and played in this neighborhood, to end that threat. She’d made the deal to help capture the Rose Red Rapist for herself. Because she deserved to feel safe in her own home and shop. She’d gone to bed a shy woman who lurked in the background of society, and she’d woken up to a very different, unfamiliar world where she had to take action and play a starring role.
Hope paused outside the second bedroom and pushed the sleepy tumble of hair off her face. As much as her heart and conscience wanted to do this undercover job to help the police, her father’s voice inside her head was telling her she was doomed to fail. She could never pull this off—being the fictitious fiancée to one of Kansas City’s finest, playing the part of would-be witness to draw a dangerous man into KCPD’s trap.
“You’re too much of a coward, girl. Now quit thinkin’ on your own and dreamin’ those stupid dreams, and do what I tell you.”
“Shut up, Hank,” she whispered, pushing open the door and peeking inside. She’d gotten her brother away from their father’s prison. She’d started her own business. She supported herself more
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