He was on a search for answers about Daniel. All his life he’d wanted to know what’d happened to his brother, and he was getting close. He could feel it.

Once out of his neighborhood, he shoved the phone in the holder on his dash and glanced at the screen. No name, just a number. His heart pounded. Jamie’s number. He’d never dialed it, but her cell, home, and work numbers were all filed in his memory from his research.

“Return call,” he requested.

Did she change her mind about the trip?

Nearly missing a stop sign, he hit his brakes and commanded his heart to slow.

“Michael?” Her panicked voice filled his vehicle, and his chest tightened.

“Jamie. What’s wrong?”

Sputtering breaths filled the line.

“Damn it, Jamie, what happened?” He grabbed his phone, turned off the speaker, and pressed it to his ear. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine…well…yes, I’m fine—”

“You don’t sound fine,”

“Um…someone broke into my house—”

“Get out. Get out of the house right now.” His grip could have crushed the phone.

“No…it’s okay. The police are here and I’m fine.”

Michael blew out a breath. Thank God. “Let me talk to one of them.” It was going to take an hour to get the story out of Jamie. He put the phone back on speaker and pulled a U-turn. Fuck the airport. He headed toward Jamie’s.

“This is Officer Byers.”

“Byers. Is she really okay? What the hell happened over there?”

“She’s gonna be okay. She’s a little banged up. The EMTs bandaged her face. She’s lucky, considering he was armed.”

“He had a gun?” Michael hit his brakes.

“The guy dug into her cheek with it. She fought him off.”

“What?” Michael ground his molars together.

“She fought him off. Who knows what else he would have done.”

“Ah fuck. You find him?”

“Not yet. She got a good look at him. We’ll get him.”

“Let me talk to her again, please.” Michael exhaled a breath that lasted a full five seconds. She could have died.

“Michael?” Her voice was steadier.

“Hey, princess. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I’m not sure why I called you. You don’t have—”

“I’m coming. Don’t argue.” Nothing would stop him.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“And we’re gonna have a little talk about fighting with men who have guns.”

She gave a choking laugh that ended in sobs.

“Sit tight, I’m coming.”

“Don’t hang up, okay?” she rasped.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Two police cruisers were parked in front of Jamie’s house when Michael pulled up. Jamie and three uniforms stood outside on her walkway, talking in a tight circle. She had on snug black running shorts that left nothing to the imagination and made him catch his breath. Holy crap. Did she actually wear those in public? Anger blew away his shock as he realized the backs of her upper thighs were bandaged.

All four turned as he slammed his door and jogged across the street. Jamie’s arms were tightly folded across her chest like a protective shield, her face pale under her tan.

Her face. Michael wanted to strangle her intruder. She had a large white bandage on the right side of her face, and her lips were swollen and starting to scab.

He strode straight to her and pulled her against his chest in a bear hug, not caring if she thought he was being too forward. After what she’d been through, she had to need a human touch. She stiffened for a second and then blew out a deep breath and relaxed as he rubbed his hands across her back. Her Lycra tank was smooth to his touch, but not nearly as smooth as the silkiness of her skin. She kept her arms across her chest but carefully leaned her forehead against his cheek. She shuddered.

“I’m okay.”

He rubbed her back for a few seconds longer and then stepped back, keeping a firm grip on her shoulders and looking her in the eye. “What happened?”

One of the uniforms coughed, and Michael glared his way. “Is the house clear?”

“Yes, we cleared it. Ms. Jacobs hasn’t gone back in to see if anything is missing yet.” The cop raised an eyebrow at Jamie, and Michael wanted to kick him for pressuring her. His name tag read “Byers.”

“I’m ready now,” she said. She reached up and took one of Michael’s hands off her shoulders, gripping it. “Will you go with me?”

Like anyone could stop him.

She started toward her front door, and Michael glanced at the cops just in time to see their gazes drop to her ass. “Christ,” he muttered, and their gazes immediately bounced up. Protectiveness washed over him, and he bit back a growl.

Jamie stepped through the doorway and slowly walked down the hall. Michael felt a tremor in her hand as she turned into the kitchen. “Should I be walking in here?” she asked. “Am I going to ruin evidence?”

“Just don’t move anything till they get some pictures,” Michael said. “It’s not a murder scene.”

It looked like a tornado had ripped through the room. His gaze focused on three big zigzagging brown smears on the floor. “Is that his blood or yours?”

Jamie blinked at the smears. “Mine. I think that one is from my face.” She pointed. “And the others must have happened when I was kicking him from the floor. I cut the backs of my legs on broken glass. I didn’t even feel it.” She touched the bandage on her right thigh, a bewildered look on her face. “The EMTs spotted the blood.”