Page 56 of Duty Compromised
The server came with the check, and Ty paid before I could reach for my wallet. We left, and outside, the evening had turned cool. I shivered as we walked to his truck. Without asking, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around my shoulders. It smelled like him—soap and something woodsy and fundamentally male.
“Thank you,” I said. “For dinner. For making me eat actual food.”
“Thank you for the company.”
We drove toward my house, the comfortable silence broken only by the radio playing softly. I watched him drive, noting how his eyes constantly checked mirrors, scanned intersections, catalogued other cars. He was watching. Protecting.
The weight of the situation settled back over me. Someone had sabotaged my work. Someone had deliberately hit my car. Someone wanted me to fail—or worse. And Ty was here, watching everything, keeping me safe even when I hadn’t realized I needed it.
We pulled into my driveway, and I expected him to stay in the truck, to head back to his hotel like he’d said in the lab. Instead, he turned off the engine.
“I thought you were going back to your hotel.”
“That was never the plan.” He came around to open my door. “Regardless of whether what I put in motion plays out like I think it might.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m not moving from your side until this is all over.”
Warmth I didn’t totally understand spread across my whole body. He wasn’t going to leave me alone.
We walked up the path to my front door, and I fumbled for my keys in the dark. Finally finding them, I unlocked the door and reached for the light switch.
The moment illumination flooded my living room, Ty’s arm shot out, blocking me from entering. His whole body had gone rigid, every muscle tense.
My house had been ransacked.
Furniture overturned, cushions slashed, books thrown from shelves. Papers covered every surface like snow. My laptop—my personal laptop—lay in pieces near the wall. Picture frames were smashed, their glass glittering on the carpet like stars.
I gasped, the sound sharp in the sudden silence.
“This,” Ty said, his voice deadly calm, “is what I thought might happen. Just not so soon.”
Chapter 16
Ty
I shifted my weight, blocking Charlotte completely with my body. The destruction spread before us like a crime scene photo—deliberate, violent, thorough. Whoever did this wanted to send a message.
“Get to my truck.” I kept my voice low, controlled, even as adrenaline flooded my system. My hand moved to the Glock holstered at my hip. “Lock the doors.”
She stood frozen behind me, her breathing shallow and fast. I could feel the tremors running through her where her hand pressed against my back.
“Charlotte.” I turned just enough to catch her eyes, keeping my body between her and the house. “I need you to get to the truck. Now.”
“Should I—” Her voice cracked. She swallowed, tried again. “Should I call the police?”
“No.” The word came out harder than I intended. I softened my tone, reaching back to squeeze her arm briefly. “Let me check things out first. We’ll call the FBI directly. This is part of an ongoing case.”
She nodded, those green eyes wide with fear but trusting. Always trusting me, even when her world kept exploding around her.
“Lock the doors,” I repeated. “Don’t open them for anyone but me.”
Charlotte backed away slowly at first, then turned and ran toward the truck. I waited until I heard the click of the locks engaging before I stepped through her doorway.
Glass crunched under my boots, each piece grinding into the hardwood like tiny accusations. The lamp that usually sat on the entry table—I’d noticed it that first time I’d picked her up—lay in pieces, its ceramic base shattered into a dozen jagged shards. Picture frames had been ripped from the walls with enough force to leave drywall dust hanging in the air.
Whoever had done this had pulled books from shelves, but not just pulled—thrown with violence that left spines broken and pages scattered like confetti. The cushions on her couch hadn’t just been slashed; they’d been gutted, foam entrails spilling out in deliberate disembowelment.
