if I know everything. I hate surprises. They put us at a disadvantage.”
She’d already pulled off her glasses.
Her gaze cut across the traffic, then back at him. “Get used to them. That’s what law is all about. Managing the bad and evil surprises.”
“I don’t get used to anything. That’s why I always get my man,” he assured her. “Or woman.” She crossed her left leg, then folded her arms. He knew what that meant. Off-limits. Women only clouded men’s judgment, and he was there to work, only.
The judge had nothing to worry about. If her work ethic was as strong as she’d stated, his was made of carbonized steel.
Chapter 3
When was the last time a man had made Kim feel incompetent and unable to take care of a situation?
Zach pushed on the first-floor window in the sunroom, finding it unlocked. He frowned as he’d done a thousand times since they’d arrived at the house. He didn’t like anything. Not her house, or the fact that it was a two-story and not a three-story. He made it clear that he thought her security system was inadequate and that she needed upgrades, including a dog, and he’d asked her more than once why was she single. As if she hadn’t asked herself that a thousand times over the years until finally accepting the answer. She was meant to be alone.
Zachary Hood couldn’t be made happy about anything. Kim had stopped trying. His expectations were too high. They’d slid into hour three of his interrogation fifty-nine minutes ago, and as hour four ticked away, she took a mental moment to figure out why her frustration level matched his. She had been happy with her life… Until she’d met him.
Kim wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t a judgmental man. She’d expected him to be more conciliatory. Someone who…well, acquiesced to her position as a judge. Someone who was at least nice.
Releasing the biggest sigh of the day, her tension eased a bit. It was the truth. It had been so long since anyone besides Clark told her she was wrong about something, and he was so gentle about it. Zach was trampling all over her tender feelings.
Kim slid her hand through her hair as they entered the keeping room, her mother’s favorite room in the house she and Kim’s father had owned before their deaths. This was the only room Kim had not changed when she’d had the house renovated a year ago. The curtains were still thick velvet brocade, and hung from heavy fourteen-foot rods, protecting stained-glass windows that dated back to the early nineteen hundreds, when the house had first been built.
The windows had been treated and re-stained, but that was all she’d had updated in the room.
“Wow, this is a throwback to the past,” Zach murmured, more to himself than to her. His words weren’t a criticism or snide, just a statement about the overall state of the room. It was mausoleum-like with the heavy dark furniture and the real Persian rugs. Kim knew that at some point she’d have to deal with the room and renovate. She’d have to deal with her feelings for her mother, too. Perhaps that was why the room was still in its untouched state, even after eight years.
Zach was ten feet into the room before he spoke. “Turn on the lights, please.”
The lights were on a dimmer switch, and Kim tried to see the room as he did. The portrait that hung over the fireplace of her and her mother came into view as the lights grew brighter. Zach drew closer and studied her mom. “She was beautiful. You look just like her.”
When more words didn’t come, Kim became embarrassed.
“Thank you.” The unexpected compliment had caught her off guard. Her heart hammered. She’d been called beautiful before, but she wanted to be respected by Zach.
She looked at her mother and her heart ached for the closeness they had lacked. For all that they hadn’t been.
The sadness in the room overwhelmed her. “Are you almost finished? I can meet you in the library.”
Zach had moved on, even as she walked toward the door, her heart beginning to race again. Anxiety from being in her mother’s space was beginning to get to her. So many unshed tears. So many words unspoken.
“Come here,” he said.
From above the fireplace, beautiful brown eyes gazed down at her and she looked away from Kay Thurman. Kim crossed the room to Zach, her jaw clenched. “Yes, Mr. Hood?”
“Were these windows ever fitted with security sensors?”
“No. The prickly bushes outside are so close to the house, I didn’t think a criminal would ever wade into them to get inside. They’d get sliced up.”
Zach held back the thick curtain, and Kim waved dust out of her face. Then she saw what Zach was referring to. The beautiful stained-glass panes had been removed, leaving the window wedged open by six-inch blocks, waiting for whomever to return and finish the job of breaking into her house. They’d obviously wanted the expensive glass, because it was gone, but they wanted access, too. This was no smash and grab crime. This was methodical and thought out. There was no mistaking it. She was being targeted.
Her heart raced out of fear and stupidity. “Oh, my God. I didn’t know.” She reached out to snatch the blocks, and Zach caught her hand. Roughness met pampered softness.
“Get them out,” she ordered. Panic hit her in the chest. “There was always a moment when I thought I was overreacting. I thought, they’re not following me, are they? The attack on me was random. But this…this was meant for me. To get me.”
“Kim, it’s not the time to lose your head. If you needed confirmation, well, here’s more proof. We’re leaving the blocks in. We want him to think he’s getting away with something. The truth is that the two incidents aren’t related. There are two groups or people targeting you.”
“What? How do you know?” As badly as she wanted to leave the room, Zach knew more than the chief of police or his deputies had told her in all her conversations with them.
“Anyone who leaves something on your gate can’t get in. The note was intended to intimidate you. They want to show you their power, but they’re showing their limitations. The person who got into this window could have gotten into the house, but something stopped them.”
Fearful but curious, Kim had to ask all the questions racing through her mind. “Fear or something else?” She voiced her hope rather than her fear.
“Time and greed. He wants the glass, too,” he said, feeding a fear so deep inside her she wanted to run. But nothing, not death or threats, had made her run in the past. She wouldn’t run now.
“So they’re still after me?”
“I believe whoever did this will try again. No one leaves a window open and doesn’t return. They probably realized this glass is worth a lot of money, and they got sidetracked. They want it all. This is personal and potentially the most dangerous. I’m not quite sure yet.”
“What are they doing with the glass? Keeping it as a trophy?”
Zach pursed his lips and shook his head confidently. He worked a piece free and slipped it into a plastic evidence bag. “No. The value is too high and too many are gone. They’re selling it. It’s
