my parents, and we are completely cordial. And, like I said, he has a new fiancée. Someone far more suited to him than I was.â
âAnd her name is?â
âNatasha something. Sorry, I donât remember her last name.â
Rossi scribbled something in his notepad then shifted on his feet. âAnd you really havenât dated anyone else since then?â
âNo.â
Rossi tapped his pen against the paper. âNo one. Not a single guy. Really?â
âReally.â She tightened her arms and tried to hold on to her temper.
âYouâre an attractive woman, Morgan, so thatâs hard to believe.â Rossi turned to Brady. âIsnât that hard to believe, Owens?â
âYes,â Brady said, his gaze fixed on her. âBut then, Iâve seen how strong willed she is and if she set her mind against dating, I suspect she would succeed.â
Searching for a response, she looked at Brady. âYou donât have a ring on your finger. How many women have you dated in the last few months?â
âDarcie fixed me up a couple of times. I tried to get out of them, but sheâs kind of pushy.â He frowned. âIf not for her, I wouldnât have gone on a date, either.â
Morgan switched her focus to Rossi. âBradyâs single and attractive. Does it surprise you that he hasnât been dating?â
âDonât know about how attractive he is,â he scowled. âBut weâre not talking about Owens, here. He isnât claiming someone left a surprise in his apartment.â
âClaiming?â The word shot out, ending Morganâs plan to keep to the point. âYou donât believe me, do you? You think I staged this for some reason.â
âHonestly?â Rossi arched a brow as the charged air hung between them. âYour story rings false. Iâm more inclined to believe you had a fight with a boyfriend, and now you want him to get in trouble so you call us with a bogus story.â
She planted her hands on her hips. âI did no such thing, and I certainly hope youâre planning to investigate my complaint.â
âFrankly,â he said flipping his notebook closed, âIâm not. Thereâs no proof of a break-in and our resources are stretched thin already...â
âHold up,â Brady stepped in. âYou can at least canvass the neighbors and dust for prints. Maybe talk to the management company.â
Rossi scowled at Brady, but Morgan smiled her thanks at him.
âThat I can do, but you should know, every minute I spend on this takes time away from looking into the other threats that have been made against you.â
âThatâs obviously a priority,â Brady said.
Rossi held up a hand. âDonât worry. I understand and Iâll do my part. Just know that I have a lot on my plate right now. So Iâll grab my fingerprint kit and get started.â He stepped out of the kitchen.
Morgan sighed out her frustration. She caught sight of the rose again. Red and threatening against the white countertop. Like blood. Vivid and terrifying. A sharp jolt of fear stabbed through her. She looked at Brady, found his focus fixed on her.
âAre you going to leave now?â Her voice caught as she asked.
âIâll stay until Rossi finishes up,â he replied.
âThank you,â she whispered in relief.
She hated that she sounded weak. Hated
feeling
weak, but she hated the thought of being alone even more. For the first time since sheâd moved into her apartment, she wondered why sheâd ever been so desperate to be alone.
FIVE
M organ slung the straps for her briefcase and gym bag over her shoulders and stepped to the door. Fear that had plagued her all night made her hesitate and her hand lingered on the knob. âYouâre being ridiculous. No oneâs waiting to hurt you.â
She pulled her shoulders back and stepped outside. Wind
Ann Mayburn, Julie Naughton