Mr. Purr-fect and the Geek (Gone Geek, #2)

by Sidney Bristol

  Shit. She’d kind of hoped they could talk as they ate, even though Frank was a one-thing-at-a-time kind of guy. If she had to wait for him to cook, eat, and finally go over the game...she could be here all damn night.

  “It’s a special occasion.” He glanced up, his smile a little chilly. “I didn’t want to share it with anyone else.”

  Miranda fought against a shiver.

  “Raul’s sorry about being so late. There was an emergency at the clinic. He’ll be here as soon as he can.” She pinched the charm at her neck and said a silent prayer.

  Frank ignored her statement in favor of pouring them each a glass of wine. She wasn’t keen on drinking tonight, but she accepted the glass regardless.

  “How’s your family?” Frank asked.

  “Good. Dad’s enjoying retirement. I think mom’s ready to get him out of the house.”

  “What do you think of the wine?” He leaned against the counter, peering at her glass.

  Well, crap.

  She lifted the glass to her lips, letting the liquid slosh on her mouth, but kept her taste to the barest minimum.

  God, it was awful stuff, but the way Frank was watching her made her wonder just how much the bottle had set him back. Why was it the most expensive wines always seemed to taste like ass? Maybe she wasn’t sophisticated enough for wine.

  “That’s good.” She set the glass down and folded her hands around the stem.

  “I’m glad you like it.” Frank picked up the knife and set about chopping more things.

  Miranda drew circles on the counter top and glanced at her phone, but there were no new messages. Part of her felt rotten for being frustrated with Raul. He couldn’t help that an emergency had happened, but he could hopefully fix the animal. God, she was being selfish.

  “You look lovely tonight.” Frank’s words startled Miranda out of her spiraling thoughts.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. I’ll never forget the first time I saw you.” Frank chuckled and shook his head, knife moving a mile a minute as he chopped. “I think you were—eighteen? Company party. You had on shorts and a shredded up shirt.”

  Miranda gulped. Coming from anyone else, that would be creepy.

  No. It was still creepy.

  Frank’s gaze lifted from the cutting board to her breasts.

  “It’s nice to see some things have gotten better with age.”

  “Okay, I’m going to call Raul real quick to see where he is.”

  Holy hell, what had gotten into Frank?

  The next thing he’d say is that it was such a shame they’d never—

  “You know, it’s strange that we’ve never dated before now,” he said casually.

  Miranda shivered.

  Frank was as old as her father. Her dad. The man Frank had been friends with. It was way more than Miranda could handle.

  She picked up her phone and clutch.

  “Raul—”

  “Stop saying that name.” Frank’s voice boomed in the empty space. He slammed the knife down, his gaze spearing her to the spot.

  Miranda started and stared back at Frank. Frank yanked at the apron strings and stalked around the bar.

  She’d known the man for half her life, and he’d always been a little odd. But never like this.

  This was a man she didn’t know. He wasn’t the same Frank she’d learned how to deal with because he was her father’s friend. He was someone else. Someone very threatening.

  “Frank, let’s talk about this.” Miranda backed toward the door, her pulse jumping and hands beginning to sweat.

  “You keep throwing that man’s name around, but do you even know him? How is a poor veterinarian supposed to take care of you? He can’t even take care of himself! Look at what you’ve done for him. That fundraiser. The strings you pulled to get someone to take their application seriously. How is someone like that supposed to return the favor?” Frank’s face was red now. A vein bulged on his forehead.

  Wait—what?

  “How do you know that?” Miranda hadn’t breathed a word about chatting up an acquaintance. Not to anyone.

  “I’m the only one who has ever cared about you.” Frank smacked his fist against his chest and rounded the end of the bar, coming to a stop less than a foot away.

  “Who the hell are you talking to? How do you know about the application?” She prodded his chest with her finger.

  “Ever since you were starting out, it’s been me who guided you. Me who made your dreams possible. Me. Me. Me! I send you flowers and presents, and do you even notice?”

  Flowers.

  The flowers.

  Those random packages she’d gotten in the mail.

  Oh God...

  “Frank?” Miranda backed away, but Franks’ stride was longer.

  He grabbed her by the arms and shook her.

  “Why do you always do things the hard way? Why can’t you just do what you’re supposed to?” He was yelling now, his breath on her cheek, his fingers digging into her arms.

  It’d been Frank all along. Her father had driven him by to show off her house. He’d been on the fringes of her life for years.

  It was Frank.

  Not some nameless, faceless stranger.

  It was Frank.

  He pushed her back to the bar and leaned against her.

  “Frank—no. Stop it, Frank!” She pushed at his chest, but he had a good foot of height on her and far more muscle.

  He’d been in her bedroom. Watching her sleep.

  “I’m the only one who has ever loved you, Miranda.” He bent his head.

  He was going to kiss her.

  “No! Stop—Frank—no!”

  His lips grazed her cheek. She was going to be sick.

  Her stupid heels slipped and she was caught, supported only by Frank’s body and his grip on her.

  Frank’s mouth slid to hers.

  Miranda shuddered and smacked him in the head with her phone. She kicked, losing one shoe but her knee connected with the soft tissue of his groin.

  Frank staggered back, one hand at his crotch, eyes bulging.

  Miranda sat down hard.

  This man—this person her family had invited over, treated like a friend—was the one who’d not only broken into her home, but violated her privacy.

  She grabbed her lost shoe, kicked the other off, and stood.

  All the times she’d feared going out at night, she’d wondered if the people taking her picture were him, the nightmares she’d lived with—they were because of him. Rage gave her laser focus. She took a step and swung with the shoe, ramming the three-inch spike into his face. Frank yelled and flailed, the back of his hand hitting her cheek, but she hardly felt it.

  Tamara had insisted on teaching all the girls she came into contact with the basics of self-defense. Miranda had paid attention.

  She grabbed Frank’s wrist, planted her feet like Tamara had taught her, twisted and turned. The man flipped over her shoulder, landing on his back with a grunt and a crack of skull-on-tile.

  “You crazy motherfucker. Do you know what you’ve done to me?” She kicked Frank’s ribs.

  He wrapped his hand around her ankle and pulled. Miranda twisted, going down on one knee, her right leg stretched out behind her. Frank grabbed her knee, then her hip. She choked out a sob and elbowed him right in the face, but his grip didn’t loosen.

  She had to get away.

  Her phone lay on the floor a few inches out of her grasp.

  Miranda threw her weight forward, dragging both Frank and her those precious few inches.

  She swiped her finger and jabbed at the In Case of Emergency app, the one she’d downloaded an age ago. The call screen lit up, connecting to 9-1-1 automatically.

  Frank dug a hand into her hair and yanked back. She shouted, the pain stabbing her in the temples.

  He was on top of her now.

  She clawed, thrashing, Tamara’s voice in the back of her mind spurri
ng her on—to fight.

  Miranda screamed, praying the operator was there.

  Frank’s hands wrapped around her throat.

  13.

  Raul slowed the Jeep, his eyes widening.

  “What the hell?” he said slowly.

  The parking lot at the address Miranda had texted him was lit up with red and white lights. Half a dozen cop cars, an ambulance, and—were those news vans?

  He jammed the Jeep into park and jumped out.

  Had there been some sort of fire? An accident? Where was Miranda?

  He jogged toward the entrance.

  “Raul!”

  He jerked around toward the voice, his heart in his throat.

  A body hit him so hard he stumbled back a few steps. He couldn’t breathe, and that was only partially to do with how tight she held onto him. He wrapped his arms around Miranda, each worst case scenario that’d sprung to mind still in the forefront of his mind.

  He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her close.

  “What happened? Are you okay?” He peered around, looking for other guests, restaurant staff, but they were missing.

  “Frank. It was Frank.” Her body shook, sobbing against his shoulder.

  “What?” He leaned back and finally caught a glimpse of her.

  The strap of her dress was ripped, angry red lines circled her throat, and one side of her face was a little puffy. He was both horrified and glad she was alive.

  “The stalker? It was Frank.” Miranda scrubbed a hand across her face and winced.

  “Seriously?”

  Miranda nodded.

  “Where is he?”

  “He got away. The kitchen caught fire while he was...” She gestured to her throat. “The cops got here and he ran off.”

  “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry.” He hadn’t been there to protect her when he should have. She’d had a bad feeling about this from the beginning and he hadn’t listened to her. He’d pushed her to do something she’d known not to do. This was all his fault.

  “Can we go home? I don’t want to drive. I just want to go home.”

  “Did they—can you leave?” He wanted to bundle her up somewhere safe, hold her, keep the outside world away.

  Miranda nodded.

  Detective Bowman stood a dozen or so paces away, staring away from them.

  “Max?” Raul pitched his voice over the noise.

  Max turned, hands in his pockets, and strolled closer.

  “Have you found him?” Raul asked.

  “Frank? No, not yet.”

  “I just want to go home. Please?” Miranda kept her arms wrapped around Raul’s waist.

  “You’re free to go. I will say be careful. Panic room ready?” Max stared at Miranda.

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “Wait—you have a panic room?” How did Raul not know this?

  “It’s sort of a panic room. My closet door was outfitted with a kick plate and a lock.” She glanced from Raul to Max. “And yes, I have a cell phone charger and a cordless phone in there in case of emergency.”

  “Okay, then, give me a call if you hear anything.” Max reached out and shook Raul’s hand.

  “What about your car?” Raul asked.

  “I don’t care about my car.”

  “Okay, let’s go.” He ushered Miranda across the parking lot to his Jeep and handed her in.

  He couldn’t really believe this was happening.

  The flowers were one thing. Totally creepy and across the line. But to attack Miranda? Raul couldn’t wrap his head around it.

  “You want to talk about it?” He started the Jeep and pointed it back toward the street.

  “No. Not until we’re home.”

  “Okay.”

  Raul drove the whole way in silence, one hand wrapped around Miranda’s. True to her word, she didn’t speak the entire trip. Just stared straight ahead. Every now and then her thumb would swipe over his knuckles, but otherwise she was a statue. A beautiful, heartbreaking work of art.

  He parked in the garage instead of the driveway, and even then he insisted Miranda stay in the Jeep while he do a sweep of the house. Only once he was completely convinced Frank wasn’t hiding in a room or a closet did he give the all clear sign.

  “The kittens got out finally.” He had to toe two out of the way to close the door in Miranda’s wake.

  “Oh, look at you guys! You’re getting so big.” She paused to scoop up the two fluff balls before heading straight to the sofa. “Look at that.”

  Penny Lola Marie lay in her spot in the middle of the sectional and Shiva was stretched out at the far end, neither cat looking at the other.

  “I guess they’re learning to deal. Come here.” Raul pulled Miranda and the squirming kittens onto the couch. Lola cast them a one-eyed glare before rising to lay her head in Miranda’s lap.

  Miranda curled her legs around Lola and put her head on Raul’s shoulders. The kittens seemed to sense Miranda’s need to cuddle and settled on her lap. In the stillness of the house he could hear the scampering of claws across the floor, indicating the others were off creating mischief. Probably taunting Demon in his crate.

  Raul pulled Miranda in closer.

  He couldn’t contemplate a world without her, and he’d very nearly lost her tonight.

  Frank watched the front of the detached bungalow. The lights were on and at least two people were inside.

  Miranda.

  And her fucking boyfriend.

  She’d rebuffed his gifts, turned him down, and now this?

  It was the final straw.

  He put his hand over the gun at his back and checked the street. All was quiet, most people were asleep already.

  No one to see him.

  Frank walked across the street and alongside the fence between Miranda’s house and the neighbor’s slinking through the shadows. He didn’t cross to the side of the house until he was in the shelter of the backyard fence.

  Nothing stirred. No out of place sounds. Just him.

  Frank pried his fingers into the window casing. It paid to be prepared and after being forced to break in when she changed the locks, he’d developed this alternative.

  The window slid open. Long and narrow, it was the perfect size to accommodate someone of his height and girth.

  Frank slid into the basement, using the shelves like a ladder all the way to the floor, and mostly closed the window.

  Now all he had to do was wait until they were asleep.

  Miranda never wanted to move. She was covered in kittens and cats with Demon slobber on her knee and a Raul at her side. Hell, she’d even changed into his clothes because she didn’t want to bother with her own.

  “You want to go to bed?” Raul asked.

  “No.” Because in her dreams, Frank was still there, his hands around her throat, smoke clogging the air, fire racing across the ceiling...

  “Okay. How about I put something on the TV?”

  Escaping into a show would be...the easy way out. It’s what she wanted to do. But it wouldn’t silence the nagging voice in the back of her mind.

  When she’d thought she was going to die, when she was certain Frank would choke the life out of her, she’d thought of Raul. Of everything she wanted to say to him. And now that she had the chance...she didn’t want to go there. Because emotions were messy, and part of her needed him there to prop her up. But if she let him do that, she wasn’t being honest with herself either.

  “You want me to put on a movie?” Raul reached for the remotes.

  “No—I’d...I want to talk.”

  She could lose Raul. Tonight. Right now. And on the flip side, she could be dead.

  Did she want to spend her life loving someone who didn’t love her back? For once in her life, she had to stand up for what she needed. And if that wasn’t Raul, then at least she had the girls.

  “Okay. Sure. What do you want to talk about?” Raul stroked his hand down her arm.

  Miranda swallowed and curled her fin
gers into Runty’s fur. The kitten squirmed in protest, twisting to attack her fingers with an energy that never failed to make her smile. Except this time.

  “I’m here for whatever you need,” he said.

  Would he be when she was done?

  It would be easy to bury it all down, to hold onto him. But it wasn’t fair to her.

  “I kept thinking I was going to die. You don’t realize how small or weak you are until you’re fighting for your life.” She reached up and ran her fingers over the worst of the bruises, the spots where she could still feel Frank’s phantom touch.

  “You’re safe,” Raul whispered.

  “I was laying there thinking—I’d never see you again.” Her throat constricted, the muscles knotting and tensing in a way that fired up her nerves.

  “I’m right here, babe.” He kissed her temple.

  “I know, but...what if—if it’d been different? If I never saw you again?” She didn’t want to cry, but the tears came unbidden anyway. “What if I never got to tell you how I feel? Why you made me so damn angry?”

  “I’d love to know why I’ve pissed you off so much.” He chuckled, but she couldn’t find the humor.

  She twisted, needing to see him, to look into his eyes.

  This was about her—Miranda—not being the provider anymore. She couldn’t love him and be the sugar mama. Coming in second wasn’t going to work for her.

  “I care about you...but I—I can’t let myself fall in love with someone who will always put me in second place.” Miranda sucked in a breath. She could feel tears brimming, ready to spill over her lashes.

  “W-what?” Raul blinked at her, the confused puppy look so close to making her want to take it all back. He didn’t realize what he was doing. His heart was in the right place. But it wasn’t fair to her—to put him first and her last would only end in bitterness and regret.

  “The rescue will always be the most important thing to you—”

  “Wait. No.” Raul shook his head. “Hold on, let me get this straight...You’ve been upset with me because you...you seriously think the rescue is more important to me than you are?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. I—I thought you were—never mind.” His voice was so loud the most skittish kitten hissed. “Sorry, buddy.” Raul bumped the fussy kitten with his finger. “No. That’s not what happened.”