“You like?” he asked. She glanced up, face heating as she realised she’d been caught staring. But there was no judgement or mocking in his look, just curiosity.
“It’s really cool. I think I had an old-fashioned idea of what prosthetics were like. This looks kind of sci-fi.”
He held it out so she could see it better. “I had some savings, but I put aside most of my salary from Soldiering On to be able to upgrade to this one. I helped design it. It’s custom made, and has different attachments, so I can use it at the gym and such. It can almost hold my body weight.” He sounded so smug about this fact, so proud and excited, like a boy with a fancy new toy. Sierra’s eyes unconsciously drifted over his chest. With all that muscle hiding under there, his body weight must be a lot.
“That’s really great,” she said, and meant it. He beamed.
Sierra meant to look away from his grinning face as she bent into a stretch, she really did. But somehow she ended up with her legs spread, her torso parallel to the ground, and her eyes locked on his. Almost like a challenge.
He, too, didn’t look away as he slowly lowered himself into a stretch.
She flexed her hips slightly to increase the pull on her disused muscles. His gaze shifted to her arse and then immediately away. Sierra imagined he got quite a view, given her tight sports leggings. She also found she didn’t mind.
“Are you ready?” he asked after they’d limbered up.
“Are you?” she replied playfully.
He gave her an ‘are you kidding me?’ look. “We have to go at your pace, since I can’t leave you behind. Just don’t be too slow or I’ll fall asleep on the run.”
He was teasing, she knew. The playful light dancing in his eyes gave it away, despite the deadpan voice. Still, she narrowed her eyes at the challenge, drew a deep breath, then darted away down the street.
It took Blake less than half a second to catch up. As tempted as Sierra was to try to push her limits to impress him, she had been looking forward to this run too much to risk bombing out early. She wasn’t as fit as she usually liked to keep herself. Unable to run on the streets, she’d taken to using what passed as a gym in her apartment building—in reality, a single treadmill in a poorly air-conditioned room. There wasn’t even a TV to entertain her, and she had discontinued her habit of listening to music or podcasts, as she didn’t like how they blocked her hearing. The possibility of being crept up on increased too dramatically.
Now, though, she could feel the wind on her face, and hear the sounds of life around her. Cars passing, a woman on the phone across the street, someone’s piano practice drifting down from an apartment above them. And through it all, the heavy breathing of her protector.
She’d placed a lot of trust in him, she knew. But just for one night she wanted to hand the responsibility for her safety over to someone else and just live. Enjoy her freedom and remember how wonderful life could be.
Sierra was so distracted by her joy that she didn’t notice Blake’s sawing breath or winces of pain until they pulled up outside the front of her building again forty-five minutes later.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, fine,” he managed. “Just that old injury playing up.” He gave her a tight smile and flexed his shoulder to prove his point. Sierra wasn’t convinced.
It took him only a few tries to even out his breathing and then he stretched away the rest of whatever had been bothering him. But she’d seen it. There was no way that was just an old injury.
“You should have asked me to slow down, or turn around.” Irritation itched at her.
Blake snorted. “Why? I’m fine. I could have gone forever.”
“Is this a macho thing? I thought you’d be above that.”
In the low light streaming from the lobby of her building, she saw his jaw clench. “It’s a SEAL thing,” he replied. “We’re trained to keep going, no matter what. Injury, pain, you name it, I can move through it.”
“That sounds like a recipe for more pain.”
He shrugged. Winced. Proving her point more eloquently than she could have. Sierra smiled to herself.
“Look,” he said, his voice growing tight with frustration. “I have a job to do, which is to stick by your side, wherever you go, and keep you safe. If I can’t do that, then I am useless to you. And I am useless to Soldiering On. And, hey, why don’t we just throw the world in there, too. If you don’t think I am capable, then say so now. Otherwise, trust me to do my job.”
Sierra rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I said. I am so done with male pride.”
With that parting shot, she abandoned her stretches and stalked inside the building. Before she made it to the elevator, she heard the sound of breathing and the quick, heavy steps of someone following her. She knew it was Blake. Knew it. But she still had to peek over her shoulder to ease that niggling doubt in the corner of her mind. It made her exit that much less cool, she knew.
Blake’s face was stoic as he stared ahead.
“I can go up myself,” she told him.
He shook his head. “I’m going to do this job until I am dragged away kicking and screaming, and I am going to do it well. That means sweeping your apartment. Again.”
Sierra let out a breath and didn’t say another word as they reached her apartment. Blake went in first—she obeyed the routine now without thinking about it—and waited until he’d cleared the kitchen before wandering in after him and grabbing some chilled water from the fridge.
She just wanted him out. Out of her home, out of the only place she’d considered a sanctuary in this long and frightful year.
It was clear that they had spent far too much time together the last few days. He was sensitive, she was irritable. It was not a good combination. Hopefully after a night apart, they would be back on friendly terms again. If not, Sierra would just request someone different, as he’d suggested. Though, her mind surprisingly balked at the idea.
The man in question appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. Her hand tightened around the water bottle at the sight of him. His t-shirt still clung to his chest with sweat from their run. He was big and fierce, with that unholy scowl on his face. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest.
“I’m done,” he announced.
“Okay,” Sierra replied. “Thanks.”
He stood there a moment longer.
“You’re not…” he hesitated. “You’re not going to try to get me taken off this gig, are you?”
“I’m going to sleep on it,” she told him primly. No harm in keeping the man on his toes.
Something flashed in his eyes, vulnerable and hurting. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sure.”
He turned to go. Hesitated. Then strode out of the apartment and pulled the door closed behind him. Sierra snagged her phone from where it had been charging on the kitchen counter as she went to the door to lock it behind him. She thumbed on the screen. It took her a second to register the words in the glowing green bubble on her screen. She stumbled to a halt. Read it again, even as her breath came faster and her heart leapt into her throat. She knew what it would say.
Unknown Number: Did you like the roses?
That was it. But it was enough.
She threw open the door. “Blake?” she called, her panic making her voice rise. She couldn’t see him. Surely he couldn’t have gone too far.
She couldn’t breathe. Blackness crept into the edges of her vision.
Then, he appeared, sprinting around the corner from the direction of the staircase and barrelling straight towards her. Acute relief sluiced through her, like clear water on a hot day.
He reached her. Instead of stopping like she expected, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the wall, pressing himself against her. She swallowed. Her breasts brushed his chest as she panted. His eyes were dark and unfathomable as he stared down at her.
“Are you all right?” he whispered, barely audible. She nodded. He didn’t ease back
. “Is he here?”
She shook her head, not quite able to form the words, overwhelmed by his presence and the slow easing of her fear. Instead, she held up a shaky hand that still held the phone. Blake didn’t look away from her face, didn’t even notice the phone.
He cupped her face, drawing his thumb lightly over her cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, voice low and rough.
She cleared her throat. “I am now.”
Chapter 18
So the stalker was real.
Blake found that he wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t sure when he’d begun thinking of Sierra’s stalker as a real person, as opposed to the product of a rich woman’s overstressed mind. But it must have happened soon after he’d met Sierra.
Seeing her now, it was hard to believe he’d ever thought differently.
She circled the kitchen, prowling from cupboard to counter, picking things up and setting them down, opening drawers, but not taking anything out. Her gaze was constantly drawn to her phone before she’d whip her head away and move to the other side of the kitchen.
She stopped. Exhaled. Glanced over at Blake where he leaned against the counter. “It’s strange, I feel like my phone has been tainted. Like he’s invaded my life far more than before.”
Blake nodded, unsure what to say. “It’ll be all right,” he told her, knowing it was a platitude, but having no idea how to comfort her.
She gave him a wry smile in return. Then, her eyes hardened. “Can this help us in any way? Get closer to him?”
“Yeah,” Blake replied. “I was going to call Paul once everything settled down. Maybe he can trace it. Or at least where it was sent from.”
She blew out a breath. “All right, then it might be a good thing.”
“Maybe. It also makes it more likely that this is someone you know. Do you use this number for work or anything?”
Sierra shook her head. “No, just for personal things. I have a work phone.”
Blake hummed. “So, if we figure out how he got your number, that too, will bring us closer to finding his identity.”
Some of the wildness left her eyes, determination replacing it. “Okay.” She paused. “I suppose I can’t block him? In case he tries to contact me again?”
Blake hesitated. “Best if you don’t. You never know what clues he might leave you. We could even try replying.”
She blinked, slowly. Without warning, she snatched up her phone. “What should I say?”
“Maybe just ask him who he is. You never know, he might answer and save us all the trouble.”
Sierra scoffed, but she began typing anyway. She showed him the screen before pressing send. Who is this?
Blake nodded, and she thumbed the button to send it off into the void.
Tension crept into his shoulders, spilling into the atmosphere around them. He could see it in the way she clutched her phone like a lifeline. Waiting.
The minutes, and the silence, stretched on. There was no reply. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected one. It was only that Blake had assumed that a man that had spent a year terrorising a woman would want to brag. To—in his mind—play.
Blake’s anger stirred. How dare this man terrify this woman, victimise her. For a long, painful year at that. It was a coward’s way.
Sierra dropped her phone in disgust. “Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.”
Blake shrugged. “We’ll find another way. He’s escalating. That means he’ll make mistakes.” And then he’ll be sorry.
“Should we call the cops?” she blurted out.
Blake considered it. “It might be a good idea to put it on record.”
She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “What if they don’t believe me?”
“I’ll call a friend. She’ll believe you.”
Sierra stared at him, long and hard. It felt like she was stripping him bare, discovering all his secrets. He forced himself not to squirm in his seat.
“Okay,” she said eventually. He let out a breath of relief as she looked away.
He stepped out of the room to call Destiny—Soldiering On’s friend and insider on the police force—and asked her to come over. She readily agreed.
“She’s on her way,” he told Sierra, slipping into one of the stools on the kitchen island.
“Who is she?” her voice was deceptively light.
“Destiny. She served under Duncan in the Army. He asked her to join us in Soldiering On, but she joined the police force instead.”
He noted a slight loosening of her shoulders. “Do you know her well?”
“I trust her. She’s part of the Soldiering On family, even if she doesn’t technically work with us. Unfortunately, I only get to see her when we do group get-togethers, but she’s cool.”
The starch drained from her spine. “Excellent. Do you think she can help?”
“If anyone on the police force can, it’s her.”
Officer Destiny Jones was objectively one of the most beautiful women Sierra had ever seen. Smooth black skin, bouncing natural hair, and a quick, bright smile. She was in civilian clothes, so it was obviously her night off. But her calm, comforting manner told Sierra that she didn’t mind being disturbed.
They were seated on Sierra’s wide, leather couch, each with a cup of tea clutched in their hands. Blake lounged in an armchair to Sierra’s right. She couldn’t see him because she had turned herself toward Destiny, but she could feel the intensity radiating off him.
“I’m glad you called me,” Destiny told her. Sierra curled her hands tighter around her mug at the reminder of why Destiny was there.
She nodded. “I want it down on record. For when we catch him.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt, but didn’t even convince herself.
“So, walk me through it in your own words,” Destiny asked.
Sierra felt it all pour out of her as she told her story. The stress, the tension, all of it eased as she explained to Destiny about the strange feeling of being watched, the phone calls, the roses, and finally the text.
As she did so, Destiny’s fingers dug more tightly into her mug, though her face remained passive.
Sierra drew a deep breath as she finished. She was so glad she wasn’t alone anymore. Unloading the burden on others, trusting them to help, was more freeing than she could have imagined.
“I see,” said Destiny. Her lips were pressed into a thin line.
Sierra deflated. “You don’t believe me.”
Destiny shook her head. “Oh, I definitely believe you. But I think there is something you need to know.”
Blake stirred behind her. “Know what?”
Destiny’s eyes grew apologetic. “You’re not the first.”
All the breath left Sierra’s lungs. “What?” Her voice was small. Weak.
“When Blake called me earlier, I did a quick search on the database for cases involving roses. I found two in the last five years that fit your profile. First, stalking, phone calls, no direct contact. Then, escalating to gifts—thorned roses, in particular—and more direct contact.”
“And then?” Sierra asked. The pieces in her mind shifted, changing, creating a new picture. One far more terrifying.
Destiny hesitated. Her expression became pitying. Sierra knew what was coming. Dread pooled in her stomach, clogging her lungs. She wanted to cover her ears, shut out the next words but she knew she had to hear them.
“They’re dead,” Destiny told her softly. “Murdered.”
Empty, horrified silence settled over them. Sierra tried to take a breath, to say something, but her lungs were too filled with terror. Her mind was utterly, sickeningly blank, unable to process what Destiny had just said.
She wanted to flee, but she couldn’t move. She had nowhere to go, regardless. Nowhere that would save her from this knowledge. She was frozen to the couch, her back straight and mind slowly turning the word over and over again. Murdered.
A touch brushed over her arm. She jumped, spinning around, her hea
rt hammering. But it was only Blake, his face a picture of misery. For her.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. She gripped his hand, a lifeline in this roiling sea of chaos.
“What do we do?” she asked.
His expression was determined. “We do the same. But this time I’ll stay here with you. I won’t let you out of my sight until we catch this guy.”
She nodded. His confidence, as it was no doubt meant to, bolstered her. She managed a watery smile.
“Will this cost me extra?” she joked half-heartedly.
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, I don’t come cheap.” He winked, and she laughed, just a little.
With a final squeeze of her hand, Blake turned back to Destiny. “Why hasn’t this guy been caught yet?”
Destiny offered him an apologetic shrug. “Honestly, these cases were before my time, but from what I can tell, no one thought they were related. Two victims is a coincidence, three is a pattern. I’m just glad Sierra came to us before it was too late.”
“So now what?” he demanded.
“Now,” Destiny told him. “I file my report, and tell my superiors I noticed the similarities in the cases. I’ll push for them to investigate it as a serial crime.”
“And what difference will that make?” Sierra asked.
“Investigating these cases as separate incidences got the police nowhere. This will change their tactics. They’ll start by trying to find the connection point between you and the other two victims. It should narrow down the suspects, and, hopefully, that will put us on the path of the person doing this.”
“And what do we do in the meantime?”
“You wait, and you keep yourself safe.” Sincerity radiated from her. Destiny was a natural protector, just like Blake.
She nodded, agreeing, and Destiny sent her one of those luminous smiles.
Guarding Sierra: (Soldiering On #2) Page 9
