Protecting Piper (Wilde Ways Book 1) by Cynthia Eden

Author:Cynthia Eden [Eden, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Hocus Pocus Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2019-01-28T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“He would have been able to watch her house perfectly from here.” Eric braked his car and eyed the quiet, colonial-style, brick house. The sunlight shone down on the house and on the blue SUV in the drive.

Grady Fox’s rental. A rental that had been due back yesterday.

Eric’s hold tightened on the steering wheel. “He was right here, and we didn’t know it.”

Grady had been close enough to watch the blaze. Close enough to watch Piper.

Had he been watching the first night when Eric had taken her away from that very street?

Eric killed the engine and jumped from the vehicle. He’d been sure to park a bit down the road, just as his agents had done.

Simon hurried to his side. “What’s the plan here? Guess we’re not going to play things cool, huh?”

Screw cool. Eric stalked toward the house, moving quickly up the broken sidewalk even as his gaze swept the perimeter, looking for any signs of a threat. The windows were closed, and the curtains drawn.

He rolled back his shoulders. His hand skimmed over the hood of the rental. Ice cold. The vehicle hadn’t been used recently.

“Not even going to play the good cop, bad cop routine?” Simon’s voice was a whisper as he shadowed Eric’s movements. “Just going in with guns blazing?”

They were both armed, but no, he didn’t intend to fire his way inside.

Why bother, when the door was unlocked?

As soon as he stepped foot on the porch, Eric noticed that the front door was ajar. The lock didn’t appear broken in any manner. The door was simply open, a bare inch. As if someone had forgotten to shut it.

“No,” Simon muttered. “Not a fucking good sign.”

No, it wasn’t.

Eric lifted his hand and pounded on the door. “Grady Fox! Grady, my name is Eric Wilde, and I need to talk to you—” The door slid open a bit more beneath his pounding fist.

The smell hit him. It wafted out from the opening in the doorway, and Eric closed his mouth immediately. Dammit, he knew that smell.

Behind him, Simon was already cursing.

“We need the cops here,” Eric said flatly. “Call Detective Layla Lopez.” A cop he knew and trusted. A homicide detective.

After this call, he’d expect the Atlanta PD to be all in on the investigation.

After all, it was pretty hard to ignore a murder. Carefully, he entered the house, making sure not to touch anything. The smell assured him that a body was inside. Decomposition was hard to mistake. But just in case someone else was in the place, he had to take a look.

The body was in the den. Tied to a chair—arms roped down and ankles secured to the legs of the chair. Stab wounds littered the guy’s chest and his head sagged forward, dirty blond hair hanging over his forehead.

“That’s Grady Fox,” Simon muttered. “Poor bastard.”

Someone had tortured Grady. Taken slow and careful time with him. Eric knew a torture scene when he saw one, and Simon sure as hell could spot one, too.

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