Bound by Danger by Terry Spear Page A

breath.
    Deidre shoved him back against the railing, turned, and ran inside her apartment. She clicked the lock shut on the glass door and glanced up to see the man leaning over her railing still trying to breathe.
    Bang! Her front door slammed open, hitting the wall. She turned and screamed.
    “Deidre!” Dave ran across the apartment with gun in hand, dressed only in a pair of silk briefs. He pulled her from the room into the hall. “Go inside my apartment and lock the door.”
    “But—”
    “Go!”
    His frantic, but firm tone made her obey him. Cowboy to the rescue. Deidre hurried into his apartment, shut the door, and locked it. She listened for sounds of gunfire, but not hearing any, she walked into the living room.
    She shivered in the cool, air conditioned room as she took in its appearance. Illuminated with soft lamplight, a cowboy roping a steer embossed the shade. A leather couch rested against the wall while wrought-iron tables sat on either side. Two chairs covered in hairy cowhide made her smile. A real cowboy. Her spaghetti strap dripped over her shoulder. She realized then she stood half naked in her neighbor’s apartment.
    A key twisting in the door’s lock made her turn and cover herself. Her breathing grew heavy and fearful.
    To her relief, Dave opened the door. “The police are here.” He took in her appearance, then hurried to his bedroom.
    When he returned, he pulled one of his western shirts over her shoulders and wrapped his arm around her, giving a firm squeeze of reassurance. “Are you ready to speak to them?”
    Despite the upset over the thief, she worried more about her appearance before strangers. Dave’s shirt reached mid-thigh on her. Deidre frowned. “Don’t you have something else a little longer or better yet, I’ll return to my place and—”
    “They’d rather speak to you here while they’re dusting for fingerprints.” He led her to the couch and she sat.
    “Dusting for fingerprints?” she asked, confused. “They have his fingers! Why would they…don’t tell me he got away.” A chill snaked up her spine, but when she sat down on the couch, the ice cold leather shocked her. ”Oh!”
    She pulled the shirt down as far as it would go. “The leather of the couch is cold.”
    “Just a minute.”
    He returned with a blanket, placed it on the couch, and once she was sitting on it, he folded the blanket over her legs.
    “Thanks, Dave.”
    “I’ll get the police.”
    She glanced down at his briefs, and he smiled. In a jiffy, he returned to his bedroom. When he rejoined her, he wore jeans, his chest and feet still bare. Tanned, ripped, and mouth-watering. He crouched down in front of her and touched her cheek. “Be right back.”
    His concern moved her, sending a curl of warmth spiraling through her. “Thanks, Dave.”
    She’d become attuned to handling crises in her life. They didn’t unnerve her like being half naked in a stranger’s apartment did.
    He kissed her cheek, then took a deep breath and hurried across the landing to her apartment to speak further with the police.
    ***
    “Miss Deidre Roux,” the police officer said several minutes later as he scribbled onto his pad, “did you get a good look at your assailant?”
    “You still didn’t catch him?”
    She could handle the trauma of struggling with her attacker, but the anger simmered just below the surface that the police hadn’t caught the man. What if he returned?
    “We’re still searching, but a description would help.”
    “Large Adam’s apple—” She smiled inwardly at the officers’ and Dave’s strange looks. She guessed she hadn’t better mention anything about the small set of jewels the man packed. “Six foot, black hair and eyes, hefty build.” She rubbed the cut on her hand inadvertently, then added, “He wore a ring with a small diamond, black trousers, black leather shoes, and a black button-down collared shirt.”
    She cleared her throat. “He might have a bit of a twisted