Ruby narrowed his eyes. “Me? He talks about me in those emails?”
“Yes. He doesn’t like you very much.”
Petra paled and walked over to stand behind Liam. “What does he say? Is he threatening him?”
Liam ignored her question, turning to her with a kind but frank expression. “I need to have someone look at all these emails. I need another opinion, but what I sense is, this is a frustrated and jealous guy. He’s angry you’re not honoring whatever fantasy relationship you have. Judging from the amount of emails and his tone, he’s putting a lot of energy into this, and he’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants.”
“Which is what?” Her voice trembled on the question. “A phone call? An apology?”
You. He’s not going to stop until he gets you. The word pounded in Ruby’s brain, along with the knowledge that he was one of the people standing in this psycho’s way.
“It’s hard to know what he wants, just from glancing over these.” Lies. Liam was flat-out lying to her. Rubio locked eyes with his friend.
Later, his expression said. Not now.
Liam looked back at the computer screen. “I need to do a deep background check on this guy, take apart these emails and see what’s going on. If you don’t mind, I’ll change your filter to have all his future emails forwarded to an Ironclad server.”
“You can do that?”
Liam nodded. Ruby stood with anxious energy and moved to Petra’s bookshelf, poking through novels and non-fiction while Liam showed Petra what he was changing, as well as the Ironclad email address he was forwarding them to.
“We’ll need to have all this evidence backed up,” said Liam, his fingers clicking over her keyboard. “For when we start putting a case together. But I’ll take care of that. I’ll let you know what I find, but it’s time to start documenting every call, every text. Every email. Don’t delete anything. Any suspicious packages, call me first. I want you to document every single point of contact to show the judge.”
Petra let out a quick breath. “The judge? We have to go to court?”
“We might,” said Liam. “If it escalates into—”
Rubio spun and silenced him with a look.
“If it escalates into something that crosses the lines of legality,” said Liam carefully. “With the scope of his behavior, and the content of the emails, I think you could at least file for a harassment notice. A restraining order. I’ll take care of that too.”
Ruby turned back to her bookshelf, because he couldn’t bear to see her beleaguered expression. So many Russian language books. What was that all about? Her father was Russian, but he never talked to her. And at the end of the row—a Portuguese language book. For him?
Petra’s cell phone rang. “It’s not him,” she said with relief. She excused herself to her bedroom to take the call, leaving the two of them alone. Rubio slid into her chair.
“So, he’s threatening me in those letters?” he asked his friend. “Be honest.”
“He holds no love for you. I’ll put it that way.”
“How soon can you make him stop this?”
Liam closed down Petra’s email and rested his elbows on the table.
“I’m going to work on it. Get some good investigators on the case. I need to learn more about him, see if there are angles we can tweak. If he has a spouse or an employer, we can threaten to out his activities if he doesn’t leave Petra alone. Sometimes that can discourage stalkers, provided they’re not complete psychos.”
Ruby watched Liam’s fingers tap, tap, tap on the table. “But he’s a complete psycho, isn’t he?”
Liam nodded. “He’s a psycho, yeah. I’m one hundred percent sure he’s a psychopath. How close are you two?”
“I don’t know him!”
“No, you and Petra. Are you...?”
Rubio stared at him. “Are we what? Together? You’re this world class investigator guy and you can’t figure out that she can’t stand me?”
“Can’t stand you? Anyone can see the connection between you, even on stage. But I take it you’re not in an intimate relationship?”
Ruby sprawled back in his chair and rubbed his chest. “When you stop asking stupid questions then I will start talking to you again.”
Liam pulled at his ponytail. Men with ponytails, thought Rubio. Pfft. His friend pushed back some escaped strands and glared at him. “You frustrate the hell out of me sometimes. When I was hooking up with Ashleigh you were all in my business. You had to know it all.”
“And you didn’t tell me nothing. How does it feel? Not that there is anything to tell about Petra. She doesn’t want a relationship with me.”
Rubio ignored Liam’s assessing look. “Well, whatever your relationship,” his friend finally said, “you need to watch out for her. At work, at lunch, during breaks, whenever. Don’t let her leave the theater alone, especially late at night. Even if she’s getting in a car. You never know.”
“He’s not in London, is he?”
Liam gave him a dire look. “I wouldn’t assume anything about this guy.”
They both fell silent as Petra returned from the bedroom. “My grandma,” she said. “She has the occasional crisis, when she thinks someone’s spying on her through her cable box. I should have let her talk to you,” she said, pointing at Liam.
“I would have set her straight,” he said. “People spy through cable boxes all the time.”
Petra laughed at his deadpan joke and Ruby felt a stab of jealousy. Liam had it so easy with women. Good looks, good manners, a solid grip of English, and that ridiculous ponytail hair. If Liam was Petra’s partner, she’d be sleeping with him around the clock.
“Well, it’s late,” Liam said. “I better get home or I won’t see Ashleigh before she heads to bed. She’s keeping pregnant-lady hours.” He took out one of his cards, wrote an additional number on it, and tucked it under her laptop. “You can call my cell any time, twenty-four hours, and I’ll pick up. If Paulsen sends anything else, if any more emails get through, dial my number. You won’t be bothering me. Any friend of Rubio’s is a friend of mine.”
“Thank you.” She shook his offered hand. “I hope you’ll let me pay you for all this work you’re doing for m—”
He waved her off before she could finish. “The best way to pay me is to stay safe. Don’t walk home from work without a friend, be alert to your surroundings, and report anything suspicious to the police. It’s best to err on the side of caution.”
“All right, slick,” Rubio said. “We got it. Give Ashleigh my love, okay?”
Liam shot him a look that communicated a great deal of “fuck you” and made his way to the door. As soon as he left, Ruby turned to Petra. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “Vai dar tudo certo. Everything will be okay.”
“Vai dar tudo certo,” she repeated. “I hope you’re right. Hey, can you stay a while?” Her voice sounded strained. “Stay and have some coffee with me, or...do you want something to eat?” She headed to the kitchen and looked in her refrigerator, which was mostly empty. “I can call out for something.”
“I’ll stay as long as you want. You don’t have to feed me, or make up excuses to keep me here.”
“But I have to make up excuses. I have to keep my brain busy.” Her lower lip trembled as her hands fluttered against the counter. “I keep thinking, what if you’re involved too? What if you’re in danger? One of the first things he sent was that picture of me and you. What if—” The words choked off in her throat.
He walked over and put his arms around her to make her still. “It’s okay. I’m not afraid of him. Liam will take care of all this. Try not to worry.”
“But I’m worried,” she said against his shoulder. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” She gave a wild, nervous laugh. “I don’t want anything to happen to me. I should have been keeping track of his emails. I was so stupid.”
“No, you weren’t stupid.” He rubbed her back, feeling an inappropriate erect
ion rising where he pressed against her. Damn her for how she affected him. He shifted back and looked in her eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He’s the psycho here, not you. He’s trying to make you feel scared and threatened, I don’t know why. Because he imagines too much, and he’s a big loser. I had a woman like this once, writing, constantly, constantly. Is so stupid. One day she jumped in my car and kissed me and—” He shuddered, remembering the feel of her slobbery lips.
“What did you do?” asked Petra.
“I told her to get out. I yelled at her to get out and leave me alone, and she did. But she was not—”
Not like this guy. He didn’t say it, but they both heard it. Rubio was twice Petra’s weight. He was big and strong, a product of Rio’s streets. He knew how to fight. He’d have no problem defending himself, even against another guy. But Petra... He tried not to let his thoughts show in his expression. He probably didn’t succeed.
“Will be okay,” he said again, as if saying it enough times might make it true.
“What if it’s not okay?” Her voice broke on the last word and she started to cry. She was so strong, always, so assured, but now she was cheeping and chirping like an injured bird. He made sympathetic sounds and stroked her hair. He didn’t know what to do, how to fix this. He really wanted to kiss her. He wished he could kiss her until she felt better, until that haunted look left her eyes.
He touched the sides of her hair, brushed his fingers over the soft, sweet-smelling strands. “He is very bad,” he said. “I know he’s so bad, but I can understand why he feels so strong for you. You’re so beautiful, Petra. I’m sorry you’re sad.”
She turned her face up to his, her cheeks streaked with tears. “I’m so tired,” she sobbed. “I’m tired of worrying about this.”
“I know, querida.”
“It’s so stupid. It’s not fair. I mean, that he wants me, and I don’t want him.” She buried her face in his chest. “And I want you, but I can’t…”
“You can’t what?”
She pulled away from him and smeared tears across her cheek. “Forget I said that. I’m really emotional right now. I want everything I can’t have.”
He stared at the curve of her cheek, the pretty pouting shape of her mouth. “You can have me,” he said. “If that’s what you want.” She shook her head, trying to pull away from him, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Petra—”
“We can’t, Ruby. Just—please—”
“You can have me,” he said again, taking her face in his hands. “I’m right here, damn you. If you want me, why don’t you take me? Nothing bad will happen. I don’t understand.”
“Really?” She looked up at him, her expression racked with torment. “You don’t understand? Of all people, you should understand. My entire life has been driven by dance. Every decision, every relationship has been weighed against how it will affect my career. How you’ll affect my career.”
“And?” he asked in frustration. “I’m your partner. I try to help you be your best.”
“I know, but I’ve created this structured life. There’s only room for me and dance in it. I’m afraid to upset the balance, you know?”
Yes. In some way he did know. Their dedication to their craft consumed everything, leaving room for little else. No hobbies, no leisure, no relationships, no peace except for Saturday nights at Liam’s, and thanks to Petra he couldn’t even enjoy that any more. “I know,” he said, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Is lonely to live like this.”
Petra covered her face and started crying again. He held her against his chest, twining his fingers in her hair. He was lost without her, and she was lost without him. “Don’t you think...” He nuzzled against her cheek, tasting tears. “Don’t you think we have to find a way? If you want this so much, if your feelings are so strong...” He eased her back and cupped her chin, brushing away her tears with his thumbs. “Listen, we both understand what’s at stake. We’re both at a time in our lives when our careers must come first. We understand that, yes?”
He waited for her to stop crying and answer. “Yes, but—”
“So we know. We can be careful. I won’t make a baby in you, I promise. I won’t let you stop dance, no matter what. You won’t be your mother and I won’t be your father, we’ll promise each other this. We can do it. We know better.”
She gazed at him through misty green eyes, considering what he’d said. “I—I don’t know.”
He made a soft sound, tracing the bare skin above her waistband. “Do you want me? Tell the truth.”
She shuddered against him. “Of course I want you.”
He moved his hand lower, over her form-fitting leggings to the smooth vee at the top of her thighs. “We have so little besides dance. Why can’t we enjoy each other? Give one another pleasure?” He moved a couple fingers beneath her waistband and when she didn’t stop him, he slid his whole hand in, down to the secret, slick warmth of her pussy. She sighed and pressed her head against his chest as he teased her, stroking over her clit. “It’s so lonely to be a dancer,” he said, curling his fingers into her tight sheath. “So much discipline. So much sacrifice. No one understands, but we understand each other. There is something between us, Petra.” She moved on his fingers, tensing and pressing against him. “Ah, yes, you know it. We understand each other so well.”
He caught her moan in a kiss, then pressed his tongue inside her mouth as he pushed his fingers deeper. He’d die if she didn’t let him in. She was killing him, slowly but surely.
“But you’re into BDSM,” she said against his lips. “You’re kinky and I’m not.”
“Liar.” He gave a wild laugh. “You can’t stop thinking about how good it felt when I hurt you. How good it felt when I held you down and fucked you.” He punctuated each word with a probing thrust of his fingers, his thumb against her clit, pressing and stroking it. “I could teach you everything about dominance and submission. About pain and pleasure and giving yourself up.” His fingers closed over her clit in a tightening pinch. “You want to give up control, I know it. You want to be my special toy, my lover. My sweet sex slave. Only for me.”
She ground hard against his hand and touched the front of his pants, tracing the thick evidence of his need. It was all the answer he needed. He flicked open the button of his fly, tore the zipper down and fisted his cock. “Wait,” he said. “Don’t move.”
He went to his gym bag and rooted through shoes and clothing. He came up with the box of condoms and tore one open, rolling it onto his cock at the same time he kicked off his jeans. Petra took care of his shirt, tearing it over his head. He wanted to undress her next, undress all of her and lick every inch of her body, but he found he couldn’t wait. He pulled her to the floor and stretched her leggings down somewhere below her knees.
There would be time for seduction later. Tonight, tomorrow, later. For now it was enough to grab her arms and jam his cock between her legs and slide into her inch by torturous inch. She was so tight, so wet. He tried to spread her legs wider but the leggings had her cinched below the knees. They arched together, fucking like animals. Later, he could seduce. For now, he wanted ownership. Possession. He wanted her to understand that she was his. He held her hands to the floor and pounded into her, moving her hips with the force of his thrusts. She pressed against him, bucking her pelvis.
“Oh God,” she moaned. “You’re hitting…just…the right…spot.”
“Don’t come yet,” he bit out. “Wait.”
She made a plaintive sound of protest.
“Not yet,” he repeated. “Wait for me.”
He could feel her legs straining at the leggings. Spandex made nice bondage. He kissed her hard, snapping his hips against hers. He could go off like a rocket any time, but this reconnection was so exciting, so pure and wonderful, that he didn’t want it to end too quickly.
“Soon,” he said, as her nails bit into his hands. “Be patient. If you’re mine, you do what I like. You come when I say.”
> “Please,” she gasped. “I can’t hold off much longer.”
He only made her wait another minute, although she groaned like he was subjecting her to torture. “Okay, now,” he said, tightening his grip on her wrists. “Now you come. We come together.”
They were already so in tune physically. He knew her body, every muscle and tendon. He knew her scent and how she breathed and how she moved. When he heard her gasp and clench around him he was ready, his body resonating on the same frequency as hers. It was like a well-executed arabesque, everything in balance, elegant and beautiful. His orgasm felt better than any applause, better than any performance, because it arrived in perfect concert with hers.
“Oh, you fucking...you fucking...” He clamped his lips shut before he blurted out something rude. He couldn’t believe she’d kept this joy from him for so long. He couldn’t believe the time they’d wasted. “You fucking bad girl,” he whispered, gazing down into her sex-dazed eyes. “You made me ache. You made me suffer.”
She squeezed on the still-hard length of his cock and gave him a weak smile. “I’m sorry.”
“You are not sorry,” he chuckled, pulling out of her. “Not yet, anyway.”
He went to the bathroom to take off the condom while she stewed on those words. By the time he got back, she’d already pulled up her leggings.
“Oh, no,” he said. “No, no, no.”
He marched her over to the couch and threw her across his knee before she knew what he intended. He took a moment to yank her leggings back down as she squirmed over his lap. The smack of his hand sounded loud in her apartment. “Ouch,” she yelled, throwing her arm back to shield her ass.
“Rule one of BDSM...” He took her wrist and trapped it firmly between her shoulder blades. “Bad girls get spanked. That’s my rule, anyway.”
Smack!
He wasn’t hitting her full strength, but he wasn’t pussy-footing around either. He gave her another smart slap, and a couple more just under the curve of her buttocks. She half-laughed and half-screeched, trying to jerk away. This would get her nice and primed for round two of fucking, and he’d make sure that lasted longer. So many things to teach her. So many perverted things to do to her...
Fever Dream Page 11
