by Jodie Becker
Scrambling the eggs, she glanced up when someone knocked on her door. Wiping her hands on a tea towel, she walked to the front and opened the door. A courier van drove away and she frowned at it before her attention fell on a package on her stoop. It was about the size of a shoebox made to house boots. Picking it up, she marveled at the weight, wondering what it could be. Her attention moved to the stairs and she smiled. It wouldn’t surprise her if Max had bought her more gnomes. He seemed quite genuine in his interest in her love of the little statuettes. Sliding it along the counter, she settled onto a stool and used a knife to open the lid. It came open and she was immediately hit with a heavy, meaty stench. Her heart froze in a hollow chest. Ice filled her lungs and she screamed, stumbling from the stool, her gaze fixated on the dead cat.
Footsteps pounded down the stairs and she rushed toward Max. He wrapped his arms around her and she pressed her face into his chest. Beneath her ear she could hear a pounding heart, but she didn’t know if it was hers or his.
“It’s a cat,” she said, hearing the unsteady pitch to her voice. “It’s a dead cat. Oh my God.”
Max’s arms tightened, tension rolling off him. “Son of a bitch. Who sent it to you?”
Bridget hiccupped and wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t know. A courier guy dropped it off. If this is a joke it’s not funny.”
Max’s lips tightened. “You think I’d send that?”
“No,” she mumbled. “I’m just shocked. Who does this?”
Max stepped around her and approached the counter. His features turned grim as he stared down at the parcel. He pressed his hands against the counter, his nostrils flaring as fury chased over his face. “Fuck.”
He reached in and Bridget rushed forward. “Don’t touch it. The police might need it for prints.”
“There won’t be prints on this,” he said with quiet certainty.
“How do you know?”
“Trust me. A person doesn’t send a dead animal without making sure they know what they’re doing.”
Max pulled out a note. The stain of blood on the edge made her stomach turn. She didn’t feel hungry anymore. Max’s lips turned down as he read the note. Whatever was on it upset him further.
Bridget hovered beyond the counter, unwilling to look at the dead creature or inhale the decay. “What does it say?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me. It was sent to me.”
“It’s just a warning. She wants you to watch your back.”
“She? How do you know it’s a she?”
Max shook his head once. Hard. “I’m just guessing.”
Bridget’s mind immediately turned to Gillian. She didn’t think Gillian would stoop to such a sickening act. Max shifted, turning her attention outward. “I’m gonna get rid of this.”
“But I need to call the police.”
Max exhaled and jerked away from the evidence. “God damn it.”
She stiffened at his emotive reaction. Goose bumps rose on her flesh and she rubbed at it, hating the unsettled feeling the parcel had caused her. Gillian wanted to upset her, to throw her off her game, and she wasn’t about to let that snake succeed. Pulling her emotions under control, she expelled air in an effort to calm herself and cataloged what she needed to do.
Fury rolled through Max’s gut at the calling card. He thought he’d lost her. That she wouldn’t know where to find him. He was wrong.
“I’m going to call the police.”
Max barely heard Bridget, his ears roaring with disbelief and anger. The police wouldn’t be able to do anything. Stalkers terrorized and caused mental scars and yet wouldn’t suffer for their crimes. A restraining order and a few months jail time was all she’d get. He wiped a hand down his face, hiding his despair. Bridget. Damn it to hell. She sent it to Bridget, which meant she’d been watching him. Unease marched skeletal fingers up his spine and raised the hair on the back of his neck.
In the distance he could hear Bridget making the call. The police wouldn’t be able to protect her from that freak. He’d learned the hard way she’d do anything to get to him, even upset his family. He’d bought his parents a new house with beefed-up security just to keep her from them. The bitch was a wily sort, finding her way into his mother’s confidences and scaring the shit out of her.
His fists clenched so tight his blunted nails dug into his palm. How could he say to Bridget that it was his stalker who’d threatened her? That it was his fault for getting involved with her that brought this down on her head?
Bridget entered the kitchen again. “The police should be here soon.”
Her attention flickered to the package and a green tinge marked her skin. Max led her away from the kitchen and up the stairs. He had to keep her from even looking at the thing. It was clear it upset her and it hurt him to know he was somewhat responsible for it. Settling her on the bed, he knelt on the floor to look into her eyes.
“Don’t worry about that stuff. It’ll be okay. Let me talk to the police and if they need to talk to you I’ll let you know. Just stay up here for a bit.”
Relief filled her gaze and she nodded. Max placed a kiss on her lips and stood. After pulling on his clothes, he started toward the door. He hesitated at the threshold, emotion he couldn’t define fluttered through his head, determined to find voice. All he could come up with was, “It’ll be all right.”
He trudged down the stairs and waited for the police. He didn’t have long to wait, the knock on the door sturdy, marking the presence of authority. He opened the door and went through a routine he was well familiar with. They asked him questions about the package and he left out the details of Bridget finding it.
“Do you know anyone who would send this?” asked the officer.
The question he waited for. “Yes. I had a stalker a few years ago, and this was her calling card.”
“Is there a restraining order in place?”
“I think so. I mean, it was years ago and she left me alone for a while.”
“What has brought this up again?”
Max glanced at the stairs. “I’m dating someone at the moment.”
The officer indicated to the parcel with his pen. “So this was meant for your girlfriend.”
He shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Was she the one that found it?”
“Yes.”
“I need to talk to her.”
Apprehension burned in his gut. “She’s pretty frazzled and I don’t want her to know about my stalker. My relationship is kinda new and I don’t want some crazy bitch scaring her off.”
The officer raised a brow. “You’re going to have to say something. I’d suggest to her that she carry pepper spray until we resolve this. You might want to check the status of your restraining order.”
Max nodded, then went to fetch Bridget. She remained on the bed, hands clasped together over her knees. “Are they gone?”
“They need to ask you some questions.”
She sucked in air through stiff lips. “All right.”
Max pressed his hand against the doorframe, concern furrowing his brow. “You okay?”
Her nod was jerky. “Yes.”
He took her hand and led her downstairs. The officer went through the questions, which she answered with a slight waver in her voice. Max tightened his hand over hers in reassurance.
“Do you know who’d do this?” the officer asked.
“Yes.”
Max’s breath stuttered and the officer passed him a telling glance before he addressed Bridget. “Who?”
“Gillian Roachdale. She and I are kind of having issues over my first seat. We’re musicians and she didn’t get principal. I think she’s jealous. She slashed my tires.”
Brows shot up. “Did you make a police report?”
“No. I didn’t think I’d need to. I confronted her about it and she denied it, but I thought it’d be enough.”
“Do you have a witness to the tires being
slashed?”
“I didn’t see her do it, but Max can verify they were slashed.”
The officer shot a look at Max. He knew as well as Max this was getting out of hand. “You both need to make a report. Can you come down to the station?”
“Yes. Today?”
“That’d be best.” The officer shut his notebook and looked at Max pointedly. “While you’re there you might want to check out a few things.”
Max nodded, knowing he needed to check up on his restraining order. As the police officers left, he turned to Bridget. She appeared fragile, her focus kept determinedly from the kitchen. “Why don’t you go up and get ready? I’ll drive you there.”
She nodded and wandered back upstairs, leaving him to find his bearings. Moments passed and she came down dressed in a simple shirt and jeans. The drive to the police station was tense and Max had to catch himself from revealing his dark secret. Jesus, he thought she’d leave him alone. It’d been years. He regretted ever dipping his dick in that particular pussy. He’d given her a moment of pleasure and she’d given him nothing but hell. In order to regain his peace of mind he had to bring the force of the law on her head. He thought it was enough to scare her, but a woman who killed helpless animals to make a point clearly didn’t scare easy.
Unease iced over his skin and churned in his gut. He couldn’t imagine what that psycho would do to Bridget and it terrified him. He reached for Bridget, finding assurance in her touch. It’d all be okay. She broke the restraining order and it was enough to send her to jail.
He was relieved of that notion ten minutes later. While Bridget gave her statement to the police, he’d veered off to the front to find out the status of his restraining order, only to find it invalid. He stared in disbelief at the police officer. “It what?”
“Lapsed,” she said with a steady stare.
Max tried to make sense of what’d been said. “This woman made my life a living hell for a good year and the order was only temporary? How can that be?”
“Most restraining orders are only valid for two years unless authorized by the judge. You can make another.”
Max clenched a fist over the desk, his body tense with repressed rage. “How long would that take?” he asked, keeping his voice level.
“A few weeks perhaps. You’ll have to see a judge—”
“I know what I have to do, damn it. This woman has a history of doing these things. She waited until her order lapsed before seeking me out. Doesn’t that sound crazy to you? She’s not the standard run-of-the-mill stalker.”
“They all aren’t, sir,” the woman deadpanned.
“Fine.”
He stormed away from the lady, ready to do some damage caused by the futility of his situation. Throwing himself into the chair, he waited for Bridget to emerge. Fifteen minutes later she came from the back and Max stood, anxiety building in his chest. He approached, seeking the comfort she provided as he wrapped his arms around her. She was safe, for now, and he would find a way to reinstate the order to protect her.
He walked her to the car, making a list of things he needed to do to protect her. Sliding into the seat, he started the car and glanced at her. Her skin had regained some color and he wanted to replace that downturn to her lips with a smile. She didn’t deserve his shit landing on her doorstep.
“Why don’t you stay with me for a few days?”
She blinked at him. “Why?”
He shrugged, trying to appear casual even though he broke out in a cold sweat. “It’d make me feel a whole lot better.”
“Gillian won’t actually hurt me.”
“What if it’s not—” He exhaled hard. “It’d make me feel better if you’d just stay.”
Her smile was wobbly and it stabbed him through the chest. What’d happened still unsettled her.
“Please,” he said.
“All right.”
He drove her home and helped her gather some things, carrying them into his house. Walking her through his alarm system, he handed her an extra set of keys. “I have to go out for a bit to sort something out but I need you to stay here. You have my number if you need me.”
Bridget wrapped her arms around herself. “Okay.”
Distractedly he buzzed a kiss on her lips and hurried back to his car. He needed to put the order in place, then he was going to hire a private investigator and find where Katrina was hiding.
* * * * *
Max sat on his lounge, restless anger coiled inside. Today had been an utter waste. Because the acts were committed on Bridget and not him, she was required to take the restraining order out on Katrina. And therein posed his problem. He had to tell Bridget about his psycho stalker. Until then, he’d have to wait to see a judge and present his case. Hopefully nothing untoward would happen between now and then.
Bridget shifted and Max lifted his arm and brought her into his side. She snuggled against him and warmth ballooned inside. Contentment fought away his anxiety and he kissed the top of her head as her hand settled over his heart. He stared into the eco-fireplace, letting all the dark thoughts drift away. At least with Bridget staying with him he could ensure her safety while he tried to hunt Katrina down.
Max looked at her flushed face, the glaze in her eyes told him she was slightly buzzed. Gently he extracted the wine from her and placed it on the side table. He brushed hair from her face and kissed her softly. Her fruity breath tickled his senses and he eased back.
She gripped his shirt, pulling him toward her as she shifted upward. She kissed him with passion, her tongue dancing provocatively inside. She tasted tart and beautiful and Max didn’t have the strength to pull away. He slipped his hand over her nape, his thumb circling behind her ear. She whimpered, stabbing her tongue inside. He tasted her desire. Air stalled in his lungs. Lust sluiced down his spine and his balls ached. Her hand slipped beneath his shirt, skimming over his abs and chest, nails flicking over his nipples. Max broke the kiss off on a hiss. His hand fell over hers as he peered down at her lust-filled eyes.
“Where did you learn that?”
She pouted prettily. “Didn’t you like it?”
He grunted in pleasure as she pinched them delicately. Heat surged over his skin. “Oh I like it.”
He fisted her hair and Bridget gasped, her eyelids drooping. The kiss was savage and relentless, filled with all the frustration he’d felt for the day. He wanted to mark her as his and have her know it too. Bridget shifted and her weight settled over his lap, her dress spreading to accommodate the move. He spread his fingers over the base of her back, bringing her into him as he broke the kiss to lick a line down to her shoulder. Scraping his teeth along her collarbone, he slipped his hand under the hem of her skirt and found her wet heat. Bridget moaned as he circled her clit and he gloried in her wetness. Her blunted nails scraped over his chest and his cock jerked as a sexual kitten came out to play.
This was a side he hadn’t seen with Bridget and he liked it. She rocked into his hand as he slid home, two fingers finding her canal tight with need. Bridget threw her head back and cried out, her hair flowing loosely around her. Max kissed the column of her neck, her pulse racing beneath his lips. She was so hot.
Bridget shuddered softly and pushed him back into the lounge. She stabbed him with a look filled with undiluted passion. “Take it off.”
Max didn’t need to be told twice. With her still on his lap, he removed his shirt and tried to shuffle out of his jeans. Bridget giggled and stood, even as he made a grab for her. He wanted to feel her. To hold her close. Forever.
As he kicked off the rest of his clothes, Bridget unzipped her dress and it fell with a whisper to the floor. Max groaned at the sight of her sexy body as she removed the remaining undergarments, leaving her lusciously naked. The fire licked her skin, giving it a fine orange hue. She looked like a pagan goddess ready to claim her next victim in a night of decadent passion.
She knelt before him, and before he could question her, she grabbed his shaft and pumped h
im. Jesus. He hissed and threw his head back, his hands finding leverage on the cushions as she palmed his cock. Awareness chased along his erection and his heart raced. Her hot breath skated along his stomach and he forgot to breathe. She wasn’t, was she?
Her mouth encased the head of his dick and Max stiffened as a drop of pre-cum emerged. She tasted it, swirling her wet, warm tongue over him. Something niggled in the back of his head and he tried to grasp it. Bridget swallowed more of him and Max cursed. Her fingers tightened over the base of his cock and he was silently thankful of it. Anything to keep him from coming. Her head bobbed and euphoric bliss tightened around him. His balls drew tight and he stiffened. He was about to…
She drew away, her lips swollen from sucking him off. She settled on his lap and Max kissed her, opening her ruthlessly to his need. His tongue plunged and retreated, mimicking sex. Max traced his hand up her back, marveling at her smooth skin. Never had he felt such soft skin before. The head of his cock brushed over her exposed pussy and he shuddered. Damn. Max grunted, warning bells blaring in the distance.
“No, stop.”
Bridget moaned and rocked against him. “Don’t think, feel.”
Max grit his teeth as all common sense threatened to leave him. He grasped her waist and she leaned forward to swirl her tongue over his tattoo. Lust blasted all thought. He groaned. “No, no. Protection.”
Bridget slid off him as he reached down and fumbled through his jeans, his fingers trembling with repressed need. It was a close call. He found what he was after and ripped it free from the package. Her fingers wrapped around his, the condom on the head of his cock. He looked into her eyes, seeing an indefinable emotion that stilled his heart a moment.
