She slid her hand down her belly, between her swollen lips. Her finger brushed her clit and she gasped. Another stroke and she moaned his name softly.
“Honey…are you…”
“Uh huh.”
“Are you going to come for me?” She could hear the strain in his voice. “Tell me you’re going to come for me.”
“I’ll do anything for you,” she whispered.
“Don’t stop. I want to hear you come for me.”
She circled her clit the way he would, the way he’d come to understand the perfect amount of pressure, the most sensitive spot. “You know me so well,” she breathed. “You do everything so right. I can’t ever get enough of you.” Her breath hitched.
“Come with me,” he growled. “I’m going now. Come with me.”
She let herself go. Her body uncoiled in waves of heat and light and pure bone shaking pleasure. She cried out, gasping his name.
His loud groan told her he was there with her every step of the way.
“Honey.” His breathing slowed. “I want this. Us. I don’t ever want to wake up without you in my arms.”
She curled into herself, savoring the warmth of the fire beneath her skin. Her heart swelled, and a smile spread across her face. “You can catch all kinds of fish now that you’ve got that dirty talk down. Don’t limit your options.”
The sound of shattering glass shot Haylie off her bed like she was spring loaded. “Kara!” She dropped the phone and left unanswered Blake’s, “What the hell was that?”
* * * *
The rock that shattered the guestroom window didn’t come with a note, but the message rang clear. Her father had been watching. He’d been in her house. He knew which room she slept in. And tonight he knew she had a guest in the guestroom. Haylie couldn’t have read his warning better if he’d written it on the wall. He would go after her friends.
When the sun came up, she’d be calling a glass company and not the police. She would visit her mother and pretend nothing had ever happened. Just like he wanted. She would never put the Belles at risk.
She and Kara had the shards vacuumed out of the carpet and cardboard temporarily taped over the window before Blake beat his fist against the door. Kara let him in while Haylie measured out teaspoons of coffee and dumped them into the coffee maker.
“Is she ok?” he demanded.
“I’m in here,” Haylie answered him.
Within seconds he was at her side, checking her up and down like a mother whose kid had just tumbled off the monkey bars. “I’m fine,” she said. “It was just a rock through the window.”
“And the police aren’t here yet?”
When Haylie didn’t answer, he turned to Kara. “You didn’t call the police?”
“Take it up with zip lip there,” Kara said. “I’m getting a shower and going to work.”
Blake didn’t bother waging an argument. He dug his wallet out of his pocket and thumbed through business cards. Haylie saw the Sheriff Department logo on the card he pulled out and tried to grab Blake’s phone before he could punch in the numbers.
He held the phone out of her reach. “Give me one reason not to call.”
She bit her lip. “He’ll do something worse next time,” she said. “To one of the Belles.”
Blake clapped his phone closed. “He tell you that?”
“He didn’t have to. I know how he thinks. If he’d been threatening me, the rock would have come through my window. He’s been in here. He knows where I sleep.”
“Mother fucker!” Blake slammed his fist against the counter. “You think he knew Kara was here?”
She nodded. The aroma of coffee filled the room and daylight streamed through the sliders. In the corner Lucy watched the whole scene through heavy lids, and down the hall water rained against the shower tile.
Blake braced his arms on the kitchen sink and looked out the window, searching the parking lot for any sign of her father. Haylie had no doubt he’d rip Carl Monroe apart with his bare hands if he ever saw him.
“If I don’t call the police, he won’t do anything.”
“How do you know what he’ll do?”
“I’ll do what he wants. I’ll go home for a visit. I’ll pretend nothing ever happened. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep him away from my friends. He just wants to know he can control me,” she said. “As long as he thinks I’ll do what he wants, he won’t have any reason to threaten me. This whole nightmare will end.”
“Do you really believe that? Do you think he is the least bit rational?” He took her by the shoulders. “He’s a time bomb, you’re not going anywhere near that man.”
“I know what he wants. I know how to play his game.”
Blake ran his hands through his hair and for the first time she noticed how tired he looked. How red the rims of his eyes were, the stumble on his cheeks, the rumpled clothes he’d obviously thrown on in a hurry. She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. Blake pulled her hard against him.
The coffee maker gurgled the last of the water through the filter. “I know you think I should call the police, but I know the man,” she said. “I know what he’s capable of. I know what he’s trying to do. Let me handle this.”
“The police need to be handling him. Not you.”
“The police aren’t going to do anything. We can’t prove it was him. You think he left a fingerprint on that rock? He probably had somebody else throw it.” She took a deep breath. “But I’ll guarantee you he sees every car that pulls into this complex and tracks every person that walks through my door. If a cop shows up here again, he won’t stop at a broken window. He won’t stop with me. I sent him to jail the first time. He’ll make damn sure I don’t do it again.”
Blake leveled his eyes with hers. “You didn’t send him to jail the first time.”
“He didn’t send himself.”
“You didn’t say a word,” Blake continued. “Wouldn’t give a statement. Wouldn’t answer a single question the detectives asked. He was convicted on witness testimony and photographic evidence. The defense used your lack of cooperation to defend him.”
Haylie’s mouth flew open but nothing came out.
“Post-traumatic stress syndrome, the prosecution argued.” He shook his head. “But that wasn’t it, was it? You just refused to talk. Even after what he did to you, you wouldn’t do anything to send him away.”
Her blood roared through her ears, and her heart pounded like a jackhammer in her chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned away from him and grabbed a coffee mug from the cabinet. She didn’t realize she’d lost her grip until she heard the mug shatter across the floor. Before she could respond, he had her in his arms, suffocating her in his warmth. She fought to break free, but he held firm.
“You’re not doing this by yourself.” His voice was low in her ear. His tone made it clear there was no point in arguing. He wasn’t backing down. “I don’t know why no one was in your corner the first time, but this time you’re not alone. He’s going back behind bars where he belongs. And you’re not going anywhere near him.”
She slid her hands under the back of his shirt, cupping his smooth skin in her palms and trailing her fingers along his spine. The contours of his muscles only hinted at the strength coiled within them, an energy that left her breathless. In bed or beating his friends over a ball, he moved with the force of a Mack truck and the finesse of a dancer. Blake would do everything he could to protect her. But she wasn’t worried about herself. “If we call the police, someone will get hurt.”
* * * *
Blake pulled his jeans over his hips. Haylie’s hair splayed across the pillow like a chocolate octopus. The bedding covered most of her beautiful body, but one of her breasts played peek-a-boo with the sheet. His heart hitched. He’d never let anything happen to her.
He slipped out of her bedroom and carried his cell phone outside. She might be afraid of her father, but he wasn’t. He’
d make sure every move the man made was documented and admissible in court. At the rate the idiot was moving, it wouldn’t take long to put him away again.
He punched in a number he knew by heart and waited.
“Ron. I’ve got a job for you,” he said.
“Got a lot on my plate right now. Is it a big one?”
Ron Donald owned Big Mack Investigations, a small but effective one and a half man P.I. firm. He and Blake had grown up together, and Ron knew the South Alabama coastline better than anyone.
Blake gave Ron all the current information he had on Carl Monroe. “I’m not going into this guy’s past,” he said, “but he’s as bad as they come. I want anything you can give me to put him back in prison.”
“He really pissed you off, didn’t he, buddy?” Ron let out a low whistle and a laugh. “I’d hate to be him.”
“Do me a favor. If you see Haylie, don’t mention this.”
“Haylie Monroe? Didn’t know you were seeing her again. Same last name. What’s the connection here?”
“He’s her father.”
Ron grunted. “You going after the family now?”
“If you don’t help me put him behind bars, I’ll have to kill him.” Blake knew more truth hid behind that threat than he would ever have thought possible.
“Here’s the deal,” Ron said. “I’ve got a couple cases going right now. My little sister’s wedding is in two weeks and she’s marrying my only employee. But I’ll dig up what I can, keep an eye on Monroe every spare second and give you something as soon as I’ve got it.”
“I owe you one,” Blake said.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get the bill.” Ron laughed. “Talk to you later, buddy.”
Blake hung up and dialed his office. Gloria answered with her usual chipper greeting. “Hey,” he said. “Clear my books today. Reschedule what you can. Don’t worry about the rest of it.”
“Yes, sir.” She paused. “Is everything ok?”
“Everything’s fine. You can reach me on my cell if there’s an emergency.”
“Yes, sir,” she said again. “Oh, and I found an envelope shoved in the door this morning. There wasn’t any address… to or from. Do you want me to open it?”
“No. Put it on my desk. I’ll take a look at it when I come in.”
Haylie’s shadow fell across him. He turned to see her standing two steps beyond the patio, his shirt hanging to the middle of her thighs.
He clapped the phone closed and dropped it in his pocket. “I was on my way back to bed.” he said before parting her lips with his. “And so were you.”
Chapter 9
Blake was in the shower when Lucy trotted over to the door seconds before the doorbell chimed. Haylie pulled the towel out of her hair and checked the peephole. Maureen Monroe twittered like a bird, checking over her shoulder and wringing her hands. She’d catch hell for coming. There was no doubt about that.
Haylie opened the door and moved aside. Her mother rushed in, then stood like a stranger at a respectful distance, making no move of affection. Even her face gave away nothing of the sentiment she should have felt for her only child.
But she had come, Haylie told herself. That had to count for something.
“I don’t have long,” Maureen said.
Haylie motioned toward the sofa. Maureen accepted the invitation, but sat on the edge as if she was ready to sprint away if her daughter gave her half a reason to.
“He’s been here,” Haylie said quietly. The water in the shower had stopped. Blake would be out soon, and her mother would bolt for sure.
Maureen’s lips tightened into a straight line, almost disappearing completely. “Why shouldn’t he try to see you?” she said. “He’s your father.”
“He left those old pictures at my door.”
“I don’t ever want to hear another word about those pictures!” she snapped. “You hear me! Not another word!”
Maureen had never acknowledged the photos. She’d never looked at them. Refused to believe anything anyone told her about them. Except that Haylie had been smiling in every one of them. That was the biggest lie Carl Monroe had ever told, but it may as well be the truth because Maureen believed it.
“Last night someone threw a rock through my window,” Haylie said, keeping her voice quiet.
“Your father was home last night. I know you’re not accusing him.” Maureen jumped to her feet, trembling with defiance and denial.
“Mom.” Haylie took her mother by the arm. “I just want him to leave me alone.”
“Then stop it with your lies, Haylie Marie! He’s lost seventeen years of his life to you! You won’t stop ’til he’s gone for good, will you?” Crimson anger stained Maureen’s pale skin and dark circles strained through the makeup below her eyes. She looked more fragile than Haylie had ever seen her. “What did I ever do to you?” she asked, a quiver in her voice.
“It wasn’t you,” Haylie whispered.
“You want me to live the rest of my life alone? Would you finally be happy then?”
“Of course not.”
Maureen jerked her arm free of Haylie’s grasp and lifted her chin. “If all you’re going to do is tear this family apart, I don’t need a daughter.” She strode to the door.
“Tell him you don’t want me,” Haylie said. “Tell him you told me to stay away. Tell him I said, he wins.”
Maureen slammed the door behind her, and disappointment sat like a ton on Haylie’s shoulders. Someday, she’d stop expecting something from her mother that didn’t exist.
She turned to see Blake standing at the end of the hall, a towel slung low on his hips, his hair wet and tousled. Even through the tears in her eyes, he looked better than a man had a right to.
“Do you really think it’s that easy, honey?”
* * * *
“Oh, good. You made it in after all,” Gloria said with a smile as Blake entered the reception area. He took the stack of messages she handed him with a nod.
“Hold my calls,” he said, then went into his office and shut the door behind him.
He propped his feet up on his desk and reached for the unmarked white business size envelope that lay centered on his desk blotter. Sealed, wholly unremarkable, and undoubtedly another one of Carl Monroe’s games.
He debated whether to open it, or turn it over to the police, but like Haylie said, the man wasn’t going to make it easy to catch him. He sliced the seal with his letter opener and sat back ready for whatever the bastard had to say. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.
Bold on an otherwise blank page was a URL. www.daddys-girl.org
The paper crumpled in his fist. It didn’t take a genius to guess what had been posted on the Internet. Blake snatched the phone off his desk.
As soon as Ron answered, Blake jumped in. “Your future brother-in-law’s the computer geek, right?”
“Yeah, but right now he’s too busy making sure his cummerbund matches the bridesmaid dresses to be of any use. Whatcha got?”
“Carl Monroe posted pornography on the Internet. Can you trace it back to him and shut the site down before anybody has a chance to see it?”
“I doubt we can do it that fast, but we can get it done.”
“As fast as you can. And get enough documentation to make the charges stick hard.” Blake gave Ron the URL and threw the paper in the trashcan beneath his desk.
* * * *
Haylie stared at the sunny yellow block walls of her cramped office and tapped her eraser on her to do list. She’d taken care of everything, even the follow-ups. The cocktail auction should take off without a hitch. She had three days to find a dress and get her nails done.
A tune played inside her purse. She dug her cell phone out, not recognizing the number.
“Hello?”
“Haylie, is that you dear?” The older woman’s voice sounded familiar, but Haylie couldn’t place her. “This is Ina Peters,” she continued. “Your mother’s neighbor.”
“Mrs. Peter
s. How are you?” Haylie’s heart flopped like a fish on the sand. She’d given Ina Peters her number in case of an emergency.
“I’m fine dear, but…” The older woman lowered her voice. “I’m not trying to be a nosy neighbor, but…”
“It’s ok. What happened?”
“There was some commotion over at your mother’s late this morning. It sounded bad. Your daddy…” She paused. Ina Peters had lived next door to the Monroes for thirty years in one of Velma’s oldest neighborhoods. She knew the reason Carl Monroe had gone to prison, and she had plenty of reason to think Haylie wouldn’t ever call him daddy again. “Carl,” she continued, “tore out of here on two wheels. I went over to check on Maureen. At first she pretended she wasn’t home. I got her to talk to me through the door but she wouldn’t let me in. I think he messed her up pretty bad.”
Haylie’s breath caught. He’d never gotten physical with her mother before.
“You mean he hit her?” Her throat clamped around the words.
“She held a towel to her face. I couldn’t tell for sure. I think I saw blood.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Peters. I’m on my way.” Haylie started to hang up, but hesitated. “If he comes back before I get there, please call 911. And stay inside your house, don’t let him know you saw anything.”
Grady stuck his head in the door just as Haylie dropped her phone in her purse.
“Gotta run,” Haylie said, squeezing past him, “I’ll see you tonight?”
“In time for dinner.” He smiled.
“If you get there before I do, take Lucy out, and lock my office for me ok?”
“Sure thing.” Grady waved her off and took a seat behind her desk. The phone rang before she made it three feet out the door, but she left it for him to answer and broke into a run for her car.
* * * *
Blake stuffed the last of the files he hadn’t had a chance to review into his briefcase and loosened his tie. He reached for his mouse to shut down his computer when Gloria buzzed in. “Mr. Sheridan. Ron Donald is on line one.”
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