Shiver

by Suzanne Wright

  Blake put a hand on my shoulder when I went to stand and follow them. “He won’t hurt her. Let’s give them a chance to talk it out.” Sinking into the spot Sarah had vacated, he rested his hand on my thigh. “You all right?”

  “Sure. You?”

  He kissed me again. “It was a long, boring day that just got a fuck of a lot better.” He eyed the takeout boxes. “I see you’ve eaten. Good.”

  “How was your business dinner?”

  “As expensive as it was boring, but the lobster was good. Although I doubt that you want to talk about this right now, I need to ask, because it’s worrying me that you might have gotten smashed—”

  “Buzzed.”

  “—to deal with it. How did your visit with Michael go?”

  The question was sobering—literally. “It was a waste of time, really.” I relayed the conversation. “I was hoping he’d have some theories, but he only said what we’ve already considered—it’s highly possible that we shouldn’t be looking at either Ricky or Linton.”

  Blake massaged my nape, his gaze on the astounding skyline view. “Maybe we should be looking at the Buchanan Brigade.”

  “Joshua enjoys messing with me, yes, and he’s no doubt pissed that his efforts don’t work quite as well as he’d like. But Joshua would be more likely to blow the whistle on my penname than do all this.”

  “He might have been hoping that you’d call the police. Not only would he then have the satisfaction of knowing he forced you to expose your penname, he could play with you. Could insist to the other cops that you’re just seeking attention and make it so that if anything extreme did happen, no one would believe you.”

  It was a good theory, but I shook my head, surprised when the world didn’t spin—my mind was still so fuzzy. “He seemed genuinely stunned when he realized we were together.”

  “Some people are very good at acting.”

  Something about the way he said that made me narrow my eyes. “You’re still considering Cade, aren’t you?”

  Blake sighed. “Do I think he would physically hurt you? No. But Smith hasn’t hurt you. Do I think Cade would scare you in the hope that you’d run to him? Maybe. Do I think he’d be so frustrated at being unable to have you that he’d vent that frustration in such a way? Possibly.”

  “No,” I stated. “He wouldn’t.”

  “He wants you for himself. You refuse to see it, Kensey—and maybe it’s because you don’t want to see it. For as long as you act oblivious to it, you don’t have to face that he’s hurting; you don’t have to face that you might one day have to tell him that you don’t care for him that way.”

  I shot him a hard look. “I don’t blind myself to things just because they’re uncomfortable to confront.” I let out a little squeal as Blake lifted me and then propped me on his lap so that I was straddling him.

  He cupped my face. “I’m not saying you’re anything like Clear,” he said gently. “That’s not what I meant. But we can all find bliss in ignorance sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s human nature.”

  “If Cade really didn’t want you and me to be together, he wouldn’t have told me that he thinks I’m safe with you.”

  Blake stilled. “When did he say that?”

  “The day you found it necessary to mark your territory in the parking lot outside the bar.”

  “I won’t believe for one moment that he’s glad we’re together. If I had to see you with another man, I’d feel nothing but hate for the bastard. I’d want him out of your life. I’d make it happen.”

  “By trying to scare me?”

  “Never that.” Blake toyed with my ponytail. “But I’d hurt and scare the living shit out of him.” He tugged on my hair slightly. “You’re mine.”

  “Didn’t say I wasn’t.”

  “Because you know it’s a fact. You know every inch of you belongs to me. I know every inch of you belongs to me. But someone who wants you as badly as Cade does … I’m not so sure they’d be able to accept it. And if they did, they sure as hell wouldn’t fucking like it.”

  I was about to jump to Cade’s defence once again, but Blake raised his hand.

  “Just imagine this scenario, Kensey. Let’s say I’m right. Let’s say that Cade has always believed that you’ll be his one day. Just maybe he got tired of waiting for you to see that he’s who you want, so he decided to speed along the process, thinking you’d go to him for advice and comfort. Only it didn’t work. And then this other guy appeared on the scene—swanned in out of nowhere and claimed you as his. Cade would hate that, and he’d need the bastard gone. His objective would change from trying to scare you to trying to get rid of the interloper.

  “Think about it, baby—the last few things that have happened have been about me. Smith sent you pictures of me. He called you and warned you that I wasn’t for you. He crossed my face out with a marker on all the photos.” Blake gave my nape a comforting squeeze. “I don’t want it to be Cade, because that will hurt you. But I’m going to consider him a suspect until I have reason to believe otherwise.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense, though. Cade was the one who ended our relationship when we were teenagers. He left me for some big-titted cheerleader.” I almost smiled at the memory because, though hurtful at the time, it was now easy to laugh at.

  “Probably because his hormones were running rampant and, like most teenage boys, he followed his cock. You slept together a few times since then. Who initiated those times? It was him, right?”

  “Yes, but only when we were lonely or drunk. It wasn’t regular. It happened, like, once or twice a year—if that.”

  “Did he stop trying his luck, or did you tell him you were done with one-night stands?”

  “I told him I was done. He respected that. Didn’t get upset. Didn’t push. Said I was right and I was worth more. He never offered me more. In fact, he said that he didn’t think he’d ever be capable of offering it to anyone.”

  Blake shrugged. “Maybe that’s changed.”

  I sighed, realizing that I wasn’t going to change Blake’s mind on this. “If you want to consider that it could be him, fine. I can’t even blame you for wanting to be thorough. I just …”

  “I know.” Blake kissed me again. Soft, slow, deep. “Moving on, how would you feel about going away for a few days next week?”

  “Away? Where?”

  “Somewhere warm and relaxing, so you can have a fucking break from this shit.”

  I would have absolutely no qualms about it. “Do you have anywhere particular in mind?”

  He grinned. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.”

  “You’re being completely unreasonable!” bellowed Bastien from the living room.

  “You want to see ‘unreasonable,’ asshole?” Sarah bellowed back at him.

  There was a hard thump. The sound of excruciating pain that flew out of Bastien made me wince.

  I looked at Blake, whose eyes gleamed with amusement. “Should we intervene?”

  Blake shook his head. “Bastien’s used to women giving him his own way and not questioning whatever move he makes. Sarah’s different. She demands to be counted. I think he likes it, even though it drives him crazy.”

  “You’re driving me crazy!” Bastien shouted.

  Blake’s mouth quirked. “See?”

  “It’s better than me driving my foot up your ass, which you’d totally fucking deserve!” Sarah yelled.

  “He would,” I told Blake, who sighed.

  “Yeah, I guess he would.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  Hearing Sarah’s outburst, I paused wiping the table and looked up. I wanted to snarl. Joshua and another officer had entered the bar and were now scanning the large space. When Joshua’s eyes settled on me, they flared. He elbowed his partner, tipped his chin in my direction, and they both then made their way over. Apparently, he’d come to amuse himself at my expense.

  I excha
nged a droll look with Sarah and handed her my cloth. “Hopefully this won’t take long.” Turning to face him, I held back a sigh of boredom.

  “Miss Lyons.” Joshua’s smile was as polite yet fake as mine. “As you know, I’m Officer Buchanan. This is Officer Bartley. We’d like to speak to you, if you have a minute.”

  My nose wrinkled. They smelled of coffee and fast food. “We’ll talk outside.” I walked toward the open rear doors at an unhurried pace, wanting Joshua to see that his presence hadn’t flustered me, if that had been his game.

  Outside, I settled at a picnic bench and invited them to sit opposite me. Crossing one leg over the other, I kept my posture relaxed. “What’s this about?”

  “You used to live in apartment 6D of the Brownstone Apartment Building. Correct?”

  I gave a slow nod, wondering where the hell he was going with this. “Correct.”

  “But you recently moved out.”

  “Yes.”

  “You moved out very quickly, actually. Ended your tenancy rather abruptly and only took what you and your friend could fit into your cars, leaving the rest of your things behind. Your bosses helped you move those possessions a few days later.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Not many people leave in such a rush,” said Officer Bartley, his gaze probing. “They tend to give their landlord notice and relocate in a much more organized manner, not leave their things behind.”

  I gave him a blank look. “Do they?”

  Bartley’s mouth thinned. “Care to explain why you left in such a hurry?”

  “What’s this about?” I repeated. “The landlord was fine with it. He hopes to sell the building to land developers.”

  “Yes, we’re aware of that,” Joshua said, voice hard. “Answer the question, Miss Lyons. Why did you leave in such a hurry?”

  I sighed and feigned embarrassment. “I lost a bet.”

  Bartley’s brows lowered. “Excuse me?”

  “My boyfriend, Blake Mercier—I believe you know him, Officer Buchanan—asked me to move in with him. I agreed, but I wanted some time to get things in order. He didn’t want to wait, so he proposed a bet. It was of a … private nature, so I won’t go into details.” The sexual implication was right there in my tone. “In any case, if I lost the bet, I had to move in immediately.” It was the best lie I could come up with on the spot.

  “And you lost the bet?” asked Bartley.

  “Obviously. That was why I left my furniture behind—I simply didn’t need it. Blake has furniture. A few days later, I moved the rest of my stuff into a storage facility.” I looked from one male to the other. “Now, why don’t you tell me why such a thing would attract the attention of the police?”

  Joshua lifted his chin. “The apartment was trashed last night.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. “But … my things are gone. It’s empty.”

  “It still had kitchen and bathroom amenities,” said Joshua. “Both rooms were defaced with what seemed to be a blunt instrument of some kind, probably a bat. The kitchen cabinets were wrecked, the countertop took a beating, appliances were flung around, and the dishware you left behind was thrown at the walls. Additionally, the shower rail and curtain were yanked down, the tub and sink were pounded on, the toilet seat was broken, and the mirrors were smashed. To add to all that, the Venetian blinds and curtains were torn down and every bulb in the apartment was shattered.”

  My mouth went slack. Fuck. Utterly shocked, I fumbled to quickly recover. My belly was in knots, and it was a true struggle to veil how rattled I was. “Do you have any suspects?”

  Joshua’s eyes tightened around the edges. “No. Your old neighbors heard the racket, figured it was vandals, and called 911. The place was empty when we arrived, and the fire door was wide open. Vandalism isn’t rare in that neighborhood, but I find it curious that your old apartment is trashed shortly after you moved out in such a hurry.”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘shortly after.’ I left two weeks ago.” But I was worried that there was a connection. Still, I was hardly likely to share that with good ole Joshua. “It could be that teenagers heard it was empty and decided to have some fun. They’ll do it to any empty or abandoned space they can find.”

  Joshua squinted. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Miss Lyons. That hinders my investigation. It’s called ‘Obstruction of Justice.’”

  I snorted. “You’d just love an excuse to haul me down to the station. It’s why you insist on constantly pulling me over when I’m driving, even though I’ve done nothing wrong. You’re not suspicious, Joshua, you’re just pouncing on the opportunity to cause me trouble. What you fail to realize is that you and your family have been doing it so long that I’ve developed a sort of immunity to it. Honestly, it would be weird if you weren’t pulling this kind of shit.” I slowly rose, dignified. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

  Joshua stood upright. “We’re not done here.”

  “Oh, but you are,” said a new voice. It was male. Rumbly. Pissed.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I gave Blake a weak smile as he crossed to the bench. I guessed someone had called him. Or Sarah had called Bastien—yep, they’d ironed things out—who’d then called Blake.

  Sidling up to me, Blake stroked a hand over my hair. “Bugging my woman again, Joshua? I warned you.”

  Swallowing hard, Joshua jutted out his chin. “This is an official police matter.”

  “He doesn’t believe me,” I said to Blake. “Or, at least, he says he doesn’t.”

  Blake frowned. “About what?”

  “That I moved in with you because I lost that dumb bet. Although I have to say I did enjoy losing it,” I added in a lower voice.

  Picking up on my insinuation, Blake grinned. “So did I.” His grin faded as he cut his gaze back to Joshua. “I don’t see how her moving in with me is a police matter.”

  Joshua settled his hands on his belt. “Her previous apartment was trashed last night. The damage was extensive.” He listed it very matter-of-factly. “I can’t help wondering if she moved out so quickly because she was having trouble, and if that trouble is responsible for the damage to the apartment.”

  To Blake’s credit, he didn’t betray any emotion—not even the surprise he had to feel on hearing about the vandalism. “You really think I’d permit someone to chase my woman out of her own apartment?”

  “No, I don’t think you would,” said Joshua. “Which means that if she’s having trouble, you’ll do what you have to do to take care of it—even break the law. That’s what concerns me.”

  “We can protect you, Miss Lyons,” Bartley cut in. “But only if we have all the facts.”

  “I can’t tell you who the vandal is because I simply don’t know,” I said.

  Bartley stared at me expectantly and let the silence stretch out. Then, face lined with impatience, he offered me a card. “If you think of anything, call.”

  I took the card with a noncommittal sound, eager to see the back of the assholes. Once they were out of earshot, Blake turned me to face him and drew me close.

  Scrutinizing my face, he asked, “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” I splayed my hands on his chest. “You got here fast.”

  “Luckily, I wasn’t far away. Dodger called me as soon as he saw the squad car pull up in the lot.”

  “Really?”

  “He wasn’t sure if Joshua was here to fuck with you or report something that could be related to Smith, but he didn’t want you dealing with it alone. He was with a customer and there was no Cade to watch over CCC or Dodger would have been at your side.”

  Dodger was the best. “Thanks for coming. I think Joshua would have tried using it as an excuse to take me to the station for questioning. He obviously wasn’t willing to pull that crap while you were there.” At Blake’s lazy smile, I asked, “What?”

  “You like to shovel your own shit, but you thanked me for coming. How can I not smile hearing
that you trust me to help you with it?” He kissed me, sipping from my mouth. “Do you think Smith trashed your old apartment?”

  “It’s possible. Seems somewhat of a delayed reaction, though, doesn’t it? If it had happened the day after I moved out or something, yes. But two weeks later? Maybe this really was just a standard case of teenage vandalism.”

  “Or he’s venting his frustration at not being able to get near you. You always have someone with you nowadays. Maybe he arrogantly figured he could find a way to bypass my security. Now that he’s realized he can’t, he’s pissed.” Blake tucked my hair behind my ear. “He can’t call you, since you changed your number. I don’t know how he got a hold of your last number, but he clearly hasn’t been able to repeat the process this time. He could have emailed you again, though. Odd that he hasn’t.”

  I cocked my head as something occurred to me. “Can Emma track IP addresses? I still have the email he sent me. Could she find him through that?”

  “Possibly. I’ll give you her email address and you can forward his email to her.”

  “Whoever Smith is, he’s been very clever. Sneaky. I mean, even if I wanted to tell the police about him, what would be the point? His games are so petty that it doesn’t seem like I’m in any danger. Aside from breaking into my apartment—and there was no proof that anyone had—he hasn’t done anything illegal. Writing a story, taking pictures and a video with my cell phone, sending me photos of you, calling me to say that my boyfriend isn’t good for me … None of it is threatening behavior. On the surface, it seems stupid.” But when you were living with it, when it was happening to you, it was a whole other matter.

  “Yes, he has been clever,” Blake agreed. “He hasn’t done anything that would really be taken seriously. Doesn’t seem to tail you. Doesn’t harass you. Doesn’t send you threatening letters or emails. Doesn’t damage your property. And I suspect that it’s not because he doesn’t want to, it’s because it means you’re unlikely to get the backup and help you need from the police. And he can play with you for as long as he likes, because no one will be looking for him. Or, at least, that was probably his plan. But I’m a figurative spanner in the works. You have me, which means you also have Emma’s services. Nothing this guy has done so far has worked the way he’d hoped, so it’s only natural that he’d vent somehow. What worries me is that it might be you he wants to vent on next time.”