Page 27 of Beautiful Killer

“It’s no trouble.”

I opened my mouth to argue.

“You may as well just go with it,” Lulu said, voice laced with humor. “These two are bossy as hell, but they mean well. They also know what they’re talking about.”

“We are here, you know,” Hunter said to his fiancée.

She shrugged, a smirk on her lips.

Van motioned to a chair, and I took a seat. These men were all business and they remained that way as they asked me a ton of questions about the jewelry, what it looked like, if I had pictures, value, who knew about it, if the guy who broke in knew I had a safe.

Hunter sat back in his seat. “We’ll get a copy of the police report, but I’m going to need you to go over what happened that night so we can get a full picture.” He held my eyes. “Do you mind if we have another of our guys sit in on this? He’ll be helping us work the case.”

“Yes, of course, that’s fine.”

I heard Van leave the room, then come back. It sounded like he wasn’t alone, but I didn’t turn around because Hunter had already asked the first question.

“What time did it happen?”

I clutched my bag, needing to hang onto something. I didn’t want them to see the way my hands shook. “It was just after midnight. I heard him coming up the stairs.”

Hunter nodded. “And that’s when you called nine-one-one?”

I felt my face heat. God, I hated that I blushed so damn easily. “No . . .” My mouth was suddenly dry. “I thought it was someone I knew . . . a friend . . . it wasn’t until the door was opening that I realized it wasn’t, that it couldn’t be him.”

His head tilted to the side. “Someone else has a key to your place? Security codes? Someone you’re seeing, dating?”

I cleared my throat. “No . . . to all of that.”

Hunter frowned. “Then why would you think it was this friend? If he had no way of getting into your house?”

I stared across at him, trying to come up with the right words to explain Zeke. The kind of man he was. “He managed it once before, and I . . . I didn’t think to ask how he got in.” My face grew hotter. They must think I was an idiot.

His frown got deeper. “Sunny, are you still seeing this man?”

I shook my head.

“Do you think it could have been him? Your attacker, he concealed his face, yes?”

My head shot up from looking down at my fingers. “Oh, no. It wasn’t him. No way. The guy that attacked me was smaller, lighter. He was on top of me holding me down, and . . . I’d know . . . it wasn’t him . . . he’d never . . .”

There was a growl behind me, cutting me off abruptly. It was pitched low and held so much unmistakable aggression I actually jumped.

I spun around.

Oh my God.

Then shot to my feet. “Zeke?”

Standing across from me by the door, looking like he was about to tear the room apart, was Zeke. My Zeke.

His eyes moved over my face, taking in the damage, and his nostrils flared. The veins in his arms and neck were suddenly bulging, and he hissed out a breath.

What in the hell was going on here? “What are you doing here?” I forced out past frozen lips.

“You were broken into.” He sucked in a rough breath. “Attacked.”

It wasn’t a question.