I spun around.
But not quickly enough. Before I could see what had pricked my ears, I felt an explosion behind my temple. Then the drawing table, the ruined designs, and the entire mess that was my life faded and everything went black.
Chapter Nineteen
Slowly I blinked one eye open. Then the other. My vision was fuzzy but as I continued the painful practice of blinking, objects slowly came into focus. One emerald slingback. The Purple People Eater across the room. My pens, lipstick, purse. Slowly the room materialized in front of me. I moved my head and felt carpet beneath my cheek. What was I doing on the floor? I slowly sat up, putting one hand to my head as a jackhammer began to pound at my temple.
Then it all came back to me. My open front door, the ruined designs. The whack on the head. My eyes whipped wildly around for a sign of my attacker. None.
I grabbed my purse where it had fallen beside me and quickly dialed 911. I stood up shakily and half ran, half fell out the front door with one slingback on, down the stairs to my Jeep, where I locked myself in until I heard the police sirens approaching.
Two uniformed cops were the first to arrive. It only took them a couple minutes, but it was long enough for me to work myself up into a state of unhinged hysteria. I was crying and babbling and I’m not entirely sure the bump on the head hadn’t knocked what little sanity I had left right out of my brain. One called for an ambulance and pretty soon my block was full of flashing sirens. I was impressed. Usually we didn’t get this kind of law enforcement turnout unless there was a gang shooting.
The police officers searched my apartment and, predictably, found no one. The paramedic gave me a pack of ice and wrapped me in one of those ugly green blankets even though it was nearing ninety outside. He said I was in shock. I didn’t disagree.
By the time the black SUV pulled up to my building, I’m happy to say I almost had myself under control again. My breathing had slowed to a near normal pace, the nice officer had retrieved a pair of fuzzy pink slippers from my closet and my nose had almost stopped running. Almost.
I sniffed as Ramirez got out of the car, his poker face in place. He was wearing those worn-in-the-right-spots jeans again with a navy T-shirt that highlighted his dedication to the gym. I hugged the green blanket around me to keep from throwing myself into his arms.
Ramirez sat down beside me on the steps, blowing out a long breath as if I’d just tried his last nerve. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
He reached his hand to the back of my head and carefully felt the lump. His hands were warm and gentle and I resisted the urge to lean in to his touch.
“That’s quite a lump.”
“Thanks.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “That wasn’t exactly a compliment.”
I bit my lip. “Right.”
His hand moved lower, caressing the back of my neck. I think I let out a little happy groan.
“So what happened?” he asked.
I drew a shaky breath and proceeded to relive what were quite possibly the scariest moments of my entire life. Something about the idea of being attacked in my own home, a place I’d always associated with coziness and safety, shook me harder than a 7.2. When I finished my eyes were getting watery again and I was sniffling like the guy in the Allegra commercials.
Ramirez stared at me, his hand still gently kneading my neck.
“Just say it,” I said.
One eyebrow quirked. “Say what?”
“I know you’re dying to say, ‘I told you so.’ To tell me that I should have listened to you and left this whole thing alone. That I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m only going to get myself hurt. Just say it. I know you’ll feel better if you do, so just get it over with, and-”
Ramirez silenced me with his finger on my lips.
I froze. His touch soft. The look in his eyes dark. Oh God, was he going to kiss me? Here? Now?
But he didn’t. Instead he said, “Just promise me you’ll leave it alone now.”
I swallowed hard as Ramirez brushed his fingertips over my lips before drawing them back into his lap. I was trying really hard not to think inappropriate thoughts.
“But isn’t the fact that someone broke in proof that Richard’s innocent?” I protested. “That the real killer is out there somewhere?” I was aware I sounded frighteningly like O.J.
Ramirez just shook his head. “No, Maddie, it proves you’ve pissed someone off. And I’m frankly not surprised. You go nosing into people’s private lives and someone’s bound to get upset.”
I hated to admit he had a point. Any one of the loony Los Angelinos I’d encountered in the last week could have found out where I lived. I wasn’t exactly the world’s best undercover agent.
“I don’t want to hear your name on the police scanner anymore. Promise me you’ll leave it alone?”
I nodded meekly. Even though I was crossing my fingers under the green blanket.
“Good.” He paused. “The medic says you might have a slight concussion. You shouldn’t be alone.” His dark eyes met mine. “Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight?”
I gulped. The smoky look in his eyes hung in the air between us. I’d like to attribute it to the shock that my mind instantly began undressing Ramirez right there on my front steps.
I swallowed hard. “I’ll, um, I’ll call Dana.”
I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, too, but it was so quick I might have imagined it.
“Good.” Ramirez got up and spoke to the uniformed officer who’d first encountered me. The uniform did a lot of wild hand gestures, pointing at me, then miming hysteria. Great. Now Ramirez was really going to think I was girly. One bump on the head and I turned into Cybil.
I pulled my cell out of my purse and dialed Dana’s number, praying she picked up. She did, and I quickly explained the situation. She said she’d be right there and I hung up.
Ten minutes later her tan Saturn screeched to a halt behind the black and whites, and Mod Squad Girl came running at me. She was wearing the go-go boots and a bright pink and lime green dress that just barely covered her derrière. Especially since she was running full tilt toward me. I saw two of the uniformed officers staring after her, their tongues dragging on the asphalt as they caught the rear view.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod, are you okaaaaay?” Dana reached me and wrapped her arms around my middle, hugging me so tightly I thought my eyes might bulge out.
“I can’t breathe.”
“Sorry.” She backed away. “What happened?”
“Somebody broke in. They trashed my place and then hit me on the head.”
“Oooohhh, honey,” she wailed, hugging me again.
“I’m okay,” I protested, wriggling from her iron grip. “I just need somewhere else to stay tonight. Can I come home with you?”
“Of course! I’ll pull the sofa bed out. And we’ll make cocktails, it will be like a sleepover.”
“No cocktails.” Ramirez came up behind us. To his credit, his eyes didn’t even linger on Dana’s peek-a-boo hemline. Much.
“She’s got a possible concussion. So no alcohol.”
“Right. Got it.” Dana nodded, as if taking notes. “No booze.”
“And she shouldn’t go to sleep for more than two hours at a time. She needs to be woken up to make sure she’s not nauseated or disoriented.”
“Right. No sleep.”
Ramirez slid me a sideways glance. “And no more sticking her nose in other people’s business.”
I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Under the circumstances, I thought it was very mature of me.
“Right. No nosing,” Dana repeated.
“I’ll make sure they lock up when they’re done.” Ramirez gestured up toward my studio door, still standing ajar. “Let me know where you’re staying and I’ll have someone drop the keys off.”
Dana gave him her address and phone number, which Ramirez wrote down in his little notebook. Then Ramirez got back into his SUV and drove away, leaving Dana and me both fanning ourselves as we stared after his denim clad butt worthy of a GAP commercial.