by S. R. Grey
That just scares me even more. It’s like these officers are getting their ducks in a row for if something really big happens.
But what could be bigger than this?
I can think of only one thing—the stalker physically harms me.
Escalation
I receive a frantic call from Chloe, who is running really late from her long shift at the coffee shop.
“Wait, slow down,” I urge when her words are obscured by sobbing.
She doesn’t, but when I do catch “police” and “vandalized,” I am out the door.
“I’m coming now,” I tell her.
Chloe is still on the phone with me as I jump into my car so we talk the whole way there. I’ve never been happier that I own a Ferrari as I make it to the coffee shop in record time.
The cop standing next to Chloe glares at me as I screech into the back lot, but neither he nor his younger partner say a word when I jump out and race over to Chloe, both of us lowering our phones at the same time.
The officers no doubt see I’m a man on a mission, a mission to comfort the woman I love.
My arms encircle her slight form, reminding me of just how vulnerable she is.
“Oh, Dylan,” she cries.
“Shh, shh,” I say comfortingly. “It’s going to be just fine. We’ll find the bastard who did this.”
“But who could it be?” She steps back, wiping away her tears. “Who could hate me this freaking much?”
Despite what my PI had to say, my money’s on Sten. I mention this to the officers and they take down the info, along with more from Chloe.
“In situations like these,” the older officer says, “the ex is often the perpetrator.”
Chloe’s face drains of color, and I know then that for her, the thought of Sten doing this is far worse than if it were a stranger. He must really scare the shit out of her. Maybe that’s why she’s been in a sort of denial that it could be him. I think she’s been hoping to God that it’s not.
My blood boils thinking that her prick ex could have her so terrified.
“If it’s Sten, Chloe, I swear…”
I’m careful not to blurt out anything that’ll land me in hot water with the police, but the officers are no dummies.
The older one, eyeing me up, warns, “Sir, it is imperative that you let the police handle this.”
“I will.” I sigh. “I’m just venting.”
I think the younger officer has recognized that I’m a Wolves player. He hasn’t said much, and he’s been watching me with the kind of awe fans often do.
Sure enough, before we go our separate ways, he quietly pulls me aside and says, “Hey, I know now’s not the time, but I wanted to say good luck with the rest of the season.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
Chloe and I then walk over to the Ferrari, where I say to her, “We need to catch the motherfucker who’s after you. This has gone too far.”
“I know,” she replies, running both hands through her golden hair. “It’s weird, though. Things have been so quiet at home. The camera hasn’t captured anything other than Jack eating the carrots I put out for him.”
“Whoever this is must’ve noticed the camera and decided harassing you at work would be the next move.”
“This is an escalation, Dylan. So what the hell comes next?”
That’s something neither of us cares to consider.
Uh-Oh
I’m not really all that hungry after the incident at the coffee shop, so I ask Dylan if we can skip dinner.
“Whatever you want to do is fine with me,” he replies.
But then I’m reconsidering when, as we’re driving back to my place, my stomach emits an angry growl.
Dylan, glancing over, says, “You sure you don’t want to stop and pick up some food? You actually should try to eat something, Chloe.”
“Mmm, I don’t know,” I murmur. “I feel a little nauseated.”
“What’s the last thing you had to eat?”
I think about it…and think about it…
“Chloe?” he prompts.
“I’m not really sure,” I admit at last. “I had a bagel with some cream cheese. I think that was around noon.”
“That’s it.” Dylan makes the next right, into an area filled with stores and restaurants. “We’re getting you some kind of sustenance, babe.”
I dispense with any argument since my stomach rumbles again as the aromas from the many restaurants assault my nose.
“Ooh.” I point to one of my favorite places. “What about Chinese?”
Chuckling, Dylan says, “Sounds good to me.”
A short while later we’re seated on my living room floor, sharing kung pao chicken and szechuan shrimp. Seems I was hungrier than I even realized.
“Oh my goodness, this food is the best,” I say around a mouthful.
Dylan laughs and agrees, “It is pretty good.”
Laughing or not, he still looks worried. So I bring up what we’ve not yet talked about.
“You think Sten vandalized my car, don’t you? You think this has all been him since the start?”
Dylan sets down his chopsticks. “I think he’s the most likely culprit, yes.”
I can’t deny that it makes the most sense, but…
“There’s one thing that has me stumped.”
“What’s that?”
“The cigarette butts outside my window.” I gesture in the direction of my bedroom and said window. “Sten doesn’t smoke.”
“Maybe he didn’t smoke while he was with you. Or maybe he just kept it from you. Who knows? He sounds a little crazy, so he could’ve even just lit cigarettes and stubbed them out. You know, to purposely throw you off.”
“I did consider that,” I admit.
“Chloe, he makes the most sense as the perpetrator. This is clearly someone with a lot of pent-up rage against, uh…”
“Me,” I finish for him. “It’s okay to say it. It’s the truth. And it does make the most sense that this would be Sten. Does your PI know where he is yet?”
“Not yet. But he’s really good. He’ll find out soon enough.”
I’m comforted by the fact that the police and Dylan’s private investigator are out there looking for answers. I just hope we get some before it’s too late.
A few days later, I hear from one of the officers in charge of my case. He has some news. It’s the older veteran I’m speaking with, and though in my state of upset I missed it the other night, I now learn that his name is Officer Willet.
“What kind of news do you have?” I ask, hopeful that he’ll say the perpetrator has been caught and this nightmare is over.
No such luck.
Instead, he says, “We were able to lift some unknown prints from your car.”
Since I went down to the station yesterday to be fingerprinted in order to rule out my own prints, I get excited.
“Ooh, do you know who did it then?”
“I’m afraid not, Miss Tettersaw. The prints came back from our database as unidentifiable.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask.
“It means that the person responsible has never been processed. He or she is not in the system.”
I don’t know whether this is a good or bad thing. Maybe since it’s not someone in the system, they’re new to criminal life and not a major threat. Or, and this is the bad possibility, they could be so smart that they’ve never gotten caught.
That one makes me ill.
I let out a little choking sound, and Officer Willet asks, “Are you all right, miss?”
“Yes, yes, I just had a tickle in my throat,” I fib.
“Okay, well, we’ll be in touch with when you can pick up your car.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
After the call, I sit on the sofa for a long time, trying to recall if Sten ever mentioned having trouble with the law…for anything…ever.
Problem is that it never came up. I just assumed he hadn’t done anythi
ng criminal in his past.
Now I wish I’d outright asked.
Because I now can’t rule him out.
Crap.
Eat Your Heart Out Area 51
This upcoming Saturday night there’s a charity event with the Wolves. It’s a big fancy ball where everyone will be dressed to the nines. I want Chloe to come with me. Not only is she my one and only, but a distraction from the stalker will be good for her.
“Be my date,” I say after telling her all about the event.
It’s late in the morning, and I’ve just returned from practice. We’re talking in her bedroom since sleepyhead doesn’t have to work today and has been lounging around in her pajamas reading romance novels.
“Oh, I don’t know, Dylan.” She sets her Kindle down on the bed and sits cross-legged. “So much has been going on lately.”
“I know, sweetheart, but this is a perfect opportunity to forget about the craziness of late.”
From the look on her face, I realize I’ve said something wrong. Chloe’s nerves are frayed so it’s to be expected.
Throwing her hands up in the air, she exasperatedly states, “Forget? How can I forget about any of this? My life is pure crazy these days.”
“Babe…” I sit on the edge of the bed and place my hand on her knee. “I don’t mean that you should forget about what’s going on. I just mean you should get out and have some fun for one night.”
Chagrined, she says, “I’m sorry, Dylan. You’re absolutely right. I know you’re only trying to help.” She scoots over and leans her head against my shoulder. “I’m not mad at you.”
I put my arm around her. “I know, sweetheart.”
“It’s just that this stress is really getting to me.”
I reach up and cradle her head. “I understand and it’s fine.”
Softly, she murmurs, “I clearly do need a night out.”
“Are you saying you want to go then?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s decided.”
The pressure is on. I absolutely must make the charity ball an amazing night for Chloe.
Good thing I have a brilliant plan on just how to accomplish that.
The ball is held at a swanky resort outside of the city. It’s as elegant and formal as I expected it to be. The ballroom is opulent and could pass for a palace interior.
Good thing all of us players and our dates are dressed like royalty.
I’m wearing a black tux and tails, and Chloe is my real-life princess. She’s a vision of beauty in a powder-blue sparkly sequin ball gown and matching glittery red-soled heels. Her long blonde hair, purple tips a perfect accent, is up in an elaborate twist.
“You look exquisite tonight,” I relay to her as we step out onto the ballroom floor for our first dance.
“Hmm…” She smiles mischievously as her arms slide up around my neck. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. Hot Hockey Player.”
When she scans down my body and bites her lip, I have to chuckle. “Uh-oh, I know that look.”
No coy Chloe tonight as she outright declares, “That’s right, Dylan. You just wait till I get you home later.”
We begin to dance then, though I’m ready to take her home right the hell now so she can make good on that promise.
Ah, but the time will come.
Chloe is having a good time here at the ball, and that’s all that matters. It’s good to see her in such a carefree mood. She definitely needed this.
“Are you happy?” I ask as I pull her closer to me.
“I am,” she murmurs, leaning her head against my chest. “I really am.”
I love her so much. But I feel like where we are currently is just not enough. I want us to be more than this. Hell, we’re already practically living together, why not make it official.
Leaning back slightly, I say, “I’d like to ask you something, Chloe. And it’s kind of important.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Okay?”
“How do you feel about moving in with me?”
Looking confused, she says, “Do you mean not just temporarily?”
“No. I mean for good.”
She slows to a stop, even though the music is still playing.
Peering up at me with an indecipherable expression, she murmurs an equally indecipherable, “I, uh…um…”
Uh-oh, this can’t be good.
She thinks it’s too soon.
Or maybe she fears I’m proposing a change to our current living situation because I’d rather stay at my own house.
Shit, is she worried that I’m only asking because she has a stalker?
I voice all these concerns to her, in that exact order, and then I state, “I’m asking you to move in with me because I love you, Chloe. I want to be around you as much as possible because I feel like what we have together is something really special. It feels right to take the next step. I just hope you think so too.”
“Dylan, I…” Tears well in her eyes. “I do feel the same way. But I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.” I chuckle nervously. “But only if you want to.”
“I want to.” She begins smiling, and then she starts laughing. “So yes, my answer is yes. I’ll move in with you.”
“Are you sure?” I double-check.
“I’m surer about this than I’ve been about anything lately. I’m just overwhelmed is all. But in a good way.”
“Ah, well that’s a relief to hear.”
She peers down at my tux, and then at her own fancy attire. “I feel like a princess. And you certainly look like a prince.”
“So this is a fairy tale?”
“Yes.” She chuckles. “But it’s our fairy tale.”
I tighten my arms around her. “Yes, darling, it is.”
A couple almost bumps into us then, and we realize we’re still not moving.
“Uh-oh, people are starting to stare at us,” I murmur as I glance around.
“I see that,” Chloe whispers.
“Uh, I think we better start dancing, princess.”
“Ah, yes. I think so too, my prince.”
We start dancing again and after a minute or two of swaying to and fro, I whisper in Chloe’s ear, “For the record, I think I just might be the happiest man in this room tonight.”
“I’m really happy too,” she replies. And then she adds mischievously, “Oh, and by the way, what I said earlier about you just waiting till I get you home tonight, it still holds true, now more than ever.”
“Shit, I hate that we have to wait.”
“Oh, but we do.”
She’s right; it’ll be awhile before the charity event ends. But that’s okay. I’m with the woman I love.
And what do we do?
We dance more, drink champagne, and eat a fabulous dinner of lobster and steak with our friends.
Brent and Aubrey are seated at our table, as are Nolan and Lainey, and Benny and Eliza. I talk a lot of hockey talk with the boys, but at one point I do overhear the women giggling and going on and on about…Area 51?
Huh?
I’ve never known Chloe to be into aliens and the paranormal, but who knows?
Later in the evening, after the event is over and when Chloe and I are on our way to my house, I bring up the topic.
“Chloe,” I begin, clearing my throat. “I heard you talking with the girls at dinner and I just have to ask you how in the hell did Area 51 come up?”
“Oh, that.” She lets out a soft chuckle. “It wasn’t exactly a conversation about the real Area 51.”
Hmm, she’s smiling that wicked grin again.
So I ask, “Is it something sex-related, by chance?”
“It just may be, Dylan. It just may be.”
“You’re killing me here, babe.”
Leaning over, she places her hand on my thigh. “Okay, I’ll tell you what’s up.”
“Uh, it’s going to be me that’s ‘up’ if you move that hand any higher.”
“Dyla
n!”
She then begins… “So Aubrey’s sister, Lainey, happened to let it slip what our neon green-wrapped gift is. And let’s just say that it’s Area 51–themed and definitely something we can use in the bedroom.”
Interest piqued, I ask, “So it’s a sex toy for sure?”
“Yes.”
“An Area 51–themed sex toy?”
“It would seem so.”
“Fuck.”
“Yes, fuck indeed.” Chloe laughs. “There’s about to be a lot of that going on.”
“Hell, woman, you’re not kidding.”
At my house, Chloe and I can’t reach the bedroom fast enough. And once we’re there, the real fun begins.
I make short work of her ball gown, leaving it in a sparkling mess puddle on the floor. The moonlight streaming in illuminates the gown, but it’s Chloe I’m watching as she lies down on my bed.
“You really are my princess,” I murmur as I crawl atop her. “You’re my beautiful, smart, and strong princess.”
Her fingers weave into my hair. “I am, and this princess wants you, Dylan.”
I wind my hand down between us to find she’s wet and ready for me.
“Don’t make me wait,” she moans as I part her folds.
“I’m not going to,” I assure her as I replace my hand with my cock, gliding along her silky softness.
“Your pussy feels so good, sweetheart,” I murmur. “You’re always so ready for me.”
“That’s why you should slip inside me, Dylan.” She arches her hips, an invitation that I respond to by plunging into her.
“Yesss,” she hisses.
“Do you like that?”
“Uh-huh.”
I pull out and thrust back into her roughly.
“I don’t think I heard you,” I tease. “Tell me how much you like it hard.”
“I do, I do,” she pants.
She wiggles her hips, taunting me, tempting me, but I make her wait.
“I haven’t heard the words, Chloe.”
“I like it hard and fast,” she practically yells.
I love that I can undo her like this.
“Now fuck me, damn it.”
Well, shit, how am I supposed to hold back from that?
