Stoking the Embers (New Adult Romantic Suspense): The Complete Series

by Johnson, Leslie

  “How? Any ideas?”

  “That’s the thing, I don’t know how. I tried to access the video again last night, to see if I could recognize the angle, get some perspective on how it could have been shot. But the video had been taken down. Thank God, right? But at the same time, I’d like to have been able to see the angle and distance better.”

  Captain Frank nods. “To my knowledge, no one has been able to replay the video and the whole thing happened so quickly, I don’t know if anyone even got a screenshot. Doesn’t mean someone didn’t, but we don’t know of one yet. The investigators didn’t see it; apparently it was geo-targeted just to our surrounding area.”

  “Well, finally some good news.” I nearly sag in the chair.

  “The video link was live for about one minute, closest estimate,” Frank continues. “Anyone who didn’t click that link during that window, got the ‘file not found’ message. I was told they don’t know the open rate, and they’re still trying to pinpoint the hacker location.”

  That sits me up straight. “I know the location. It’s 666 Asshole Road, Las fuckin’ Vegas, Nevada.”

  The captain’s mouth curves up for a second, then he takes a sip of his coffee. “Knowing and proving are two different things.”

  I sag again and take a sip of my coffee just as the captain’s phone rings, the shrill tone assaulting my brain. As the captain answers, I zone out and process everything he’s told me. Federal investigation. Geo-targeting. Play button. That’s the part that still kicks me in the throat. I know, deep down in my gut, that Steph would never do anything like this. But… the women at the grocery knew we were seeing each other. The guys yesterday knew it too. How could they have found out? I know I hadn’t said anything. Had Stephanie let it slip, on purpose or by accident? So many unanswered questions.

  Captain taps on his desk, getting my attention. He’s speaking into the phone, “What time?” He looks at me. “Fourteen hundred work for you?”

  “Today?”

  He nods and I nod an affirmative. Two o’clock this afternoon would be just fine. The sooner the better.

  Once he hangs up, he starts tapping the keyboard on his computer and says, “That was the federal agent; looks like they are taking this seriously. They’ve discovered something else online you might or might not want to see.”

  He motions me around his desk and I stand up, dread becoming a spider walking up my spine. I look at the computer screen; it’s another video. This time it’s Stephanie, by herself, wearing only a skimpy tank top and underwear. She’s curled up on her couch, a text book in her lap, studying. She yawns and sits up straighter, stretching her arms in the air. Her nipples are plainly visible through the thin material of her top. She settles down and begins studying again.

  Her cell phone rings and she picks it up and does a cute little happy dance sitting on the couch when she looks at the screen. She’s smiling as she says, “Hi handsome, guess what I’ve been thinking about?”

  Shit.

  We can’t hear the person she’s talking to, but I know exactly what is being said. I close my eyes as she giggles and says, “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking.” Pause. “What am I wearing?” She puts the textbook on the coffee table, a bright smile lighting up her face. I hate watching her like this, I feel like a freaking peeping tom, even though I know exactly what’s coming next.

  The camera!

  I take my eyes off her and try to picture her living room and where the camera must be placed to get this angle. I watch Captain Frank take screenshots and save them every few seconds. I glance down at the older man and watch his jaw twitch from grinding his teeth, his nostrils flaring in anger. He’s gone into what I call ‘distance’ mode… observe and take whatever actions you can, but don’t react emotionally. As firefighters, being emotionally distant can save lives.

  On the screen, I watch Stephanie stand up and turn her back to the camera. She bends over and repositions her pillows. Then she lies down, stretching across the length of the couch, and crosses an ankle over a knee. The hand not holding the phone drops to her breast and she laughs into the phone, “I’m wearing a tank and panties.” Pause. She giggles and says, “Yes, the pink ones.” Pause. “Touch them?”

  The hand on her breast glides down her stomach and then lower. “Yes, I’m touching them,” she says, becoming breathless now.

  ‘Take them off,’ I told her a week ago and watch her fulfill my request on the screen.

  Captain Frank pushes away from his desk and turns away. “Son of a bitch mother fucker,” he mumbles as he stands up and walks to the other side of his office. I sit down in his chair and watch our phone sex conversation unfold before me. She slips a hand between her legs and enters herself, her head pressing down into the pillow as she moans.

  ‘Rub your clit for me, baby. Make yourself come for me, baby.’ I can hear myself saying those things to her, urging her on while I stroked myself and listened to her husky breaths. It was so much fun at the time, our first phone sex together. Another moment ruined. Another moment that was supposed to be just for us has been exploited.

  This can’t be happening. I’m devastated for her. The screen blurs and I realize I’m crying, hot streams of lava pouring down my face.

  That isn’t the worst of it, I realize, as I watch her lift her hips to gain better access. This beautiful girl, this woman with the purest soul I’ve ever known is being virtually raped by thousands, maybe millions, of people right this instant.

  I close my eyes as she says, ‘I wish this was your tongue.’ I’m a voyeur and a participant. An accomplice and a witness.

  I cross my arms over the captain’s desk and lay my head down on them and proceed to bawl like a baby as the wonderful woman on the screen moans my name as she orgasms.

  Ten minutes later, I’m still numb as Captain Frank thrusts a bottle of water in my hands and orders me to, “Drink.”

  The website the video was playing on is called hotbabesdoingnaughtythings.com. The title of the video is: Who wants to put out Stephanie Vonnegut’s fire? Har de har har, asswipe. Jerome needs to take a class in funny.

  Frank is back on the phone with the investigator, demanding the video be taken down. “I don’t care if you have to pull the plug on the entire damn internet. Down, do you hear me? There must be something that can be done.”

  After he has yelled into the phone another minute or so, he pours himself another cup of coffee and shouts at no one in particular, “This is the damnedest thing I’ve ever heard of!”

  He sits down, still grumbling to himself, and I jump when he slams his fist on to his desk. He exhales in a huff and looks down at the paper he’s been making notes on.

  “Harper says you and Stephanie need to set up Google alerts to notify you both whenever something is posted in your name. The fed is tracking you both too. Right now they’re attempting to find the upload source for that video. At the moment, they aren’t having any luck because…” he peers down at his notes again “…some IP re-routers are being re-routed by some flippin’ other type of router. Hell, I don’t know. He says the source will be difficult to locate.”

  Every cell in my body bristles. “But it’s the damn FBI, surely some hack-ass can’t outsmart the feds!” I’m back on my feet, pacing. I can’t stand the thought that the sniffling little dick weasel could get the better of the US government.

  Frank scrubs his face with his hands and then taps his fingers on the desk. “Sit down for a minute. I want to talk to you man to man, if that’s okay.”

  I gulp and nod, a single dip of my chin. This feels precisely like the beginnings of a ‘birds and bees’ discussion. Suddenly, I’m twelve years old. I sit.

  “Seems to me that you care about this girl. Really care about her.”

  I swallow, embarrassed by how I broke down not long ago. I stare at my bottle of water, wishing I was Jesus and could turn it to vodka.

  “I’m glad, because I like her too. She’s got gumption and guts on the
inside of that shy and polite exterior she shows the world. No matter how those videos try to prove otherwise, she’s a fine human being. So are you.”

  No. No. Fuck no. I am not going to fucking cry again. I bite the inside of my cheek, willing the burning in my face to go away.

  “You’re not on the schedule again until day after tomorrow. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. During tough times, sometimes it’s best to stay busy, keep your mind off shit.”

  He has a point. Maybe I should see if one of the guys want to switch days around. “You’re right, Cap. I think I’ll head up to Mt. Charleston and do some hiking and camp in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Good call, but stay in cell range if you can. Just in case.”

  His squints at me and takes a sip of his now cold coffee. “I don’t know what Stephanie has on her plate. I seem to remember she works a job and goes to school. I don’t know how all of this is going to affect all of that, but I do know one thing...”

  I look up at Frank and he’s drumming his thumbs on his desk. He seems to be mulling something over in his head.

  “Until all this blows over, I think it’s best if Stephanie avoids any ride-alongs. Now, don’t look at me like that,” he says as I glower at him. “This isn’t a punishment. This is protection. Protection for the squad. For you and for her. I don’t need to tell you that what we do for a living can be risky business and we all need our heads on straight when we put our asses on the line.”

  I nod, but my heart has picked up its rhythm and seems to be pounding again at the unfairness of all this. I breathe steady, in and out, like I’ve been trained to do.

  “Stephanie’s good under pressure, but I don’t know what her breaking point is. Plus, I don’t need you to be worrying about her when you need to be worrying about the job you’re doing in the moment.”

  “I won’t–”

  “You will,” he interrupts me, raising his voice. “It’s only natural. If Stephanie was an employee, if I’d known her longer, if I’d ridden with her more often, then I might make a different decision. But I can’t in good conscience allow that poor girl to be put further in harm’s way.”

  It’s not often that the captain is a hard ass, but he has that hard ass look about him now. He’s a fair man, wise, and I know deep down he’s making the right decision.

  “Okay, I see your point. I’m not mad at you, I’m just pissed about the entire situation.”

  “I know, I’m pissed right alongside of you. Here’s another word of advice… keep that temper in check. I know your blood runs hot, but it’s better to keep a cool head when facing an enemy like this.”

  Easier said than done.

  “Now you run along; seems like you’ve got some personal business to attend to. Flowers. Wine. That’s an order, son. See you at two.”

  My face starts to burn again so I nod, shake his hand and beat a hasty retreat. I step into the men’s room and splash cold water on my face.

  Chapter 5 – Steph

  ‘We need to talk. Can I come by tonight?’

  It’s Ken, the first I’ve heard from him since the e-bomb blasted my world into pieces yesterday. I’ve been so worried about him, but also uncertain. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I never heard from him again.

  I reply quickly, ‘Yes. I’ll be home all night. Come anytime you want.’

  Ken: ‘Good. Be there around 9. See you then.’

  The evening slides by slowly, the tick of the wall clock becomes a taunt that inches its way under my skin. I pace and wait. Wait and pace. Worry and wonder about what happens next.

  Even though I’m expecting it, the light tapping at the door causes a zing of adrenaline and I’m left feeling light headed and off balance. My imagination has been tormenting me these last hours, like the waves of the ocean torment the sand. High tide equals hope. Low tide equals despair. And with the ebb and flow of each emotion, a tiny piece of me erodes with it.

  After wiping my damp palms down the length of my shorts, I pull open the door and he’s there. He looks as nervous as me, as uncertain as me. More handsome in his vulnerability than I’ve ever seen him.

  “Hi.”

  Hi? That’s the best I can do? I force my lips into a smile and meet his eyes. His flickers down my face and to my lips. Feelings stir inside me; he has so much power over my body. I nearly squirm where I stand.

  He swings his arm from where it was hiding behind his back and a bouquet of flowers appear. White lilies, pink roses and purple statice are tied with a simple white ribbon. He holds them out to me. “For you.”

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I take them and raise the beautiful flowers to my face. The fragrances mingle into an explosion of scent so lovely I breathe them in again. “Thank you, they’re exquisite.”

  His other hand comes from behind his back and there’s a bottle of wine. “This is for you too.”

  I laugh and take the bottle from him, hugging it to my chest. “Alcohol induced bliss. Thank you.”

  We stare at each other for long moments and I realize I’ve not invited him in. “Please, come in.” I tuck the bottle of wine under my arm and open the door all the way.

  As he steps past me, I can’t stop my hand from rising to touch his arm. He stops, frozen in place before turning to me and taking a step closer.

  “Are you–?”

  “I’m so–”

  Small bursts of laughter come from us both as our words bump into each other. I hate this tension. I hate how uncomfortable we are with each other. Just yesterday, we finished each other’s sentences. Today, it’s like we speak different languages. Except our eyes. Our eyes communicate what neither of us is able to say.

  He moves first, another step closer, then his arms are around me and I’m being held tightly to his chest.

  “You okay?” he whispers in my hair and kisses the top of my head. I melt into him, into all the places my body seems to fit so perfectly.

  “Better now,” I say against his chest, meaning it. “How about you?”

  I look up at him, into those sexy chocolate eyes and want to wrap my arms around his neck and pull his lips down to mine. But I can’t move. I’m afraid the bottle of red wine tucked against my side will drop onto the tile entry and burst into a million pieces… spilled milk on steroids. I laugh at the memory and he pulls back, “What’s so funny?”

  I grab at the bottle from under my arm and raise it in the air. “I thought I was going to drop it and had a milk flashback. For a second there I thought we were going to be adding wine to our ‘oh shit, how’d that happen’ list.”

  He pushes my hair back from my face and smiles down at me. “We’ve known each other less than a month and our ‘oh shit’ list is long.”

  My smile falters and I raise the flowers to my nose to cover my frown. His entire face falls as he realizes how on target his statement is. “Shit, Steph. I didn’t mean that… you know…”

  “I know you didn’t,” I say, smiling up at him. “It’s a good thing our ‘oh hell yeah’ list is longer.”

  He leans down and touches his lips to mine, his hands fist into my hair and… mmm… pulls. He smiles against my lips, “Oh hell yeah,” he says, and pulls again. He knows how much I love it when he does that.

  I’m under his spell again and want nothing more than to fall away from reality and into his arms. He does that to me, makes time become fluid and I never know if it’s standing still or rushing past. I’ve never felt this way, which makes what I need to do tonight even more horrible.

  I step back and he looks at me, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. I look around the room, feeling, once again, as if I’m being watched.

  “I’m sorry,” I begin and he lifts my chin when I won’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe inside this apartment again…”

  “The camera, did they find it?”

  “Them. They found them.” I blow out a shaky breath.

  “Show me.”

  “L
et me put these away and I will. Just a second.” He follows me into the kitchen and leans against the wall while I cut the stems of the flowers and arrange them in a vase.

  I grab the wine and remove the foil seal from the top. It has one of the new twist tops that seem to be growing in popularity. I laugh. God it feels good to laugh. Ken pushes away from the wall. “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m sorry!” I say and dissolve into giggles again. “This reminds me of the first time I saw a bottle like this.” I twist the top off and fill a glass three-quarters full. “I was with Beth and we got out the corkscrew and spent a full five minutes trying to figure out why it was hollow when we punctured the top. It took us waaay to long to realize it was a screw top.”

  Ken laughs. “I knew there was a reason I like beer. Much simpler. Maybe I should write a book… men are like beer, women are like wine.”

  “You write it, I’ll read it and give a snobby, ‘While this book lacks depth and needs more character development, what would one expect from a penis owner’ review.” I say this in my ‘snobby Brit’ voice and Ken howls and slaps his thigh.

  I stay in character and stick out my pinky, swirl the contents of my glass, sniff and take a tiny sip. I fall right back into my old self as the sweet nectar from heaven hits my tongue. “Holy grapes!” I take another long sip. It’s even better. I pick up the bottle and look at the label. Muscadine. “This has to be the best wine I’ve ever tasted.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell Jeff you said so. His girlfriend’s family owns a vineyard somewhere, not in California, believe it or not. He said he thought you’d like it.”

  Tempted to just stick my tongue in the glass and let it bathe in the wonderfulness of the fruity wine, I instead decide to pretend I’m grown up and say, “That’s so sweet of him. Is… ah… is everyone at the fire station giving you a hard time?” The laughter is over and my bubble of momentary happiness pops as reality sticks its needle into it.

  Ken grows somber too. “No, believe it or not, they were really supportive today. They’re mad as hell and as shocked as we were. I had a couple long meetings with Captain Frank, the detective too. Cap’s made it his quest to get to the bottom of this.”