by Morgan James
“I don’t...” I trailed off, my mind struggling to make sense of what I was reading.
“This sick fuck is planning different ways to devour you—and not the sexy kind.”
I rocked back on my heels, stunned.
“Jesus, Con.” Vince’s voice came from behind me, and a firm hand clasped my shoulder, giving me strength.
I slowly lifted my gaze to the dark brown eyes across from me. “But I thought... Harvey said they were just sappy love letters.”
Con snorted. “Well, there’s a fine line between love and obsession, and this guy blew past it a long time ago.”
The hand on my shoulder eased and slipped away as I crossed my arms over my midsection. “Why the hell didn’t Harvey say anything? I never would’ve tried to leave if I had known about this.”
Con studied me for a moment. “It doesn’t take much knowledge or experience to open a bleeder valve and let the fluid run out. Have you gone anywhere else over the last couple of days?”
I shook my head. “Not since...” I drew back, trying to remember the last time I had left the house. “I think it was last weekend, maybe a week ago? I went to the grocery store off Alto Palo.”
“Did you notice anything strange when you were driving it?”
“Not that I remember.”
Con’s brooding, dark gaze flicked to Vince. “You’ve been doing perimeter checks?”
“Every hour,” he acknowledged. “Nothing out of the ordinary, but I never thought to check under the car since the garage doors are kept locked.”
Con seemed to think it over. “There’s a good chance that it was done elsewhere and you just didn’t realize it. I don’t think anyone would be brash or stupid enough to try to bleed the lines with Ink here making cursory checks unexpectedly.”
So where did that leave us? “What do I do now?”
“I don’t know if this person knows where you live, but I’d rather err on the side of caution until we determine otherwise. I spoke with Shepler, and we’re going to increase police presence for awhile.” He directed his next words to Vince. “They’ll have patrolmen doing drive-bys every hour or so, as well, so you’ll have some backup close if you need it.”
I nodded, still feeling numb and off-balance. I couldn’t believe someone was doing this to me. It all seemed so far-fetched, so juvenile. At least, that’s the way Harvey had made it sound. He played it off as if this person were merely infatuated with me. Nothing strange had ever turned up in my dressing rooms while I was on tour, and this was the first time anything ever happened near my home. I felt violated, like the one place I should feel safe had been breached.
Con blew out a breath. “I also need to check—do you know where the key to the garage door is?”
I nodded and pointed to a drawer on the far right. “Should be in here.” I dug around for a minute, then produced two generic-looking silver keys on a small ring. “I had the locks changed as soon as I moved in, but I never come in that way, so I just tossed the keys in here.”
He nodded. “We’re going to get someone out here to change the lock again, just in case. I’d suggest changing the code to the front door and only giving it to those absolutely necessary.”
“Okay.”
He stared at me for a moment. “Is there anyone who would have had access to that door, or to the keys?”
I shook my head. “They’ve been in that drawer for as long as I can remember. I never made a copy for anyone, not even a spare, because I never needed one.”
“No neighbors to take care of the house?”
“Definitely not.” Hell, I didn’t think I could even name two of the people who lived on my street. I’d seen them in passing but nothing more.
“Boyfriend?”
I almost laughed at his mention of a boyfriend. I’d become incredibly selective of my partners and had been celibate for the past eight months. The men I’d dated in the music industry were arrogant and self-centered, and they only cared about using relationships to further their careers. The men outside of the industry were worse.
I’d played at a local fair two summers ago and met a guy who, by all appearances, seemed to be polite and well-mannered—a truly good man. We went on two dates before we’d slept together. He’d rolled out of bed the second it was over, with the comment that he could now tell his friends he’d “banged a celebrity.” Asshole. Most of the others I’d met were users or alcoholics, and I had no desire to invite that into my life.
I let out a sigh. “No.”
Con mulled that over for a second, then pinned that intense, dark gaze on me. “All right. We’ll see what we can dig up. We’re not going to have a problem here, are we? Because, if so, we can terminate the contract right now, and your studio can find another firm.”
I shook my head. “N-no. I’m... I’ll do what he says. I promise.”
“Okay, then.” He turned to Vince. “I’ll text you details on the locksmith here in a few.”
I felt frozen in place as Vince led Con to the door, then locked up behind him. My eyes fell to the manila folder on the counter, and a shiver rolled down my spine. I knew he’d left it there intentionally, as a kind of warning. He was right; seeing the evidence made it all so much more real.
“You want me to get rid of that?”
I lifted my eyes to Vince’s, and he tipped his head at the documents in front of me. Finally, I nodded. “Please.”
To the best of my knowledge, I hadn’t done anything to elicit this kind of reaction. Sure, I knew there were fans who took it a little far sometimes. People on social media weren’t afraid to make their feelings known, especially those who hated my music. I knew I sometimes got messages from random men hoping to capture my attention, but Maggie always responded with something polite yet off-putting.
I wondered if she had seen the most recent note, or if she was even aware of the turn the content had taken. I didn’t know who all I was allowed to talk to, but Maggie was my assistant, my right hand. Maggie was a singer, too, when she was younger, and we’d actually sung back-up to a few artists together before I’d gotten my big break with Magnolia Way. I would never have made it as far as I had without her encouragement, and I hated to keep her out of the loop.
Finally, Vince looked over at me. “You hungry?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t bear the thought of eating right now, even though it was creeping close to dinner time.
“Let me know when you get hungry, and we’ll figure out the food situation.”
I nodded, but my mind wasn’t on food. It was back on the accident this morning that replayed through my mind. I kept hearing Con’s voice telling me that my brake lines had been drained, that it hadn’t been an accident at all.
I turned to Vince. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” His voice was gruff and curt, and it only made me feel worse.
Con was right when he said I’d put Vince’s life in jeopardy. My actions were rash and selfish, thinking only of myself. “I should have listened to you,” I continued. “I just... wanted you to know.”
He stared at me for a long minute, then nodded. “I appreciate it.”
I stared out the window, thinking about everything that had happened this morning. Part of me wanted to disappear, to just hide away until this was all over. “Maybe I should go wait it out at the beach.”
Vince snorted. “Not a terrible idea.”
At this point, any place was better than here. My home didn’t feel like home anymore. I stared out at the late-afternoon sun spilling over the homes across the street, and I imagined what it might be like to be at the beach. I could go someplace safe, where no one knew my name or recognized my face. A place I didn’t have to worry about Vince or Mama or my stalker. Somewhere I could just be... me.
Chapter Seven
Vince
I peered at Gemma, curled up in the corner of the couch, her face pale and drawn. Her teeth were buried in her lower lip, making her look incredibly vu
lnerable. Part of me wanted to comfort her, but I had a hunch it was the last thing she’d want. Things had been awkward between us ever since the night I’d brought her home from the bar, and I had a gut feeling that was part of the reason she’d wanted a new agent to watch over her. Things had never been great between us, but I felt bad for her. She’d been through a lot recently, some of which she’d just learned.
I couldn’t believe that asshole manager of hers hadn’t said anything. I knew all of the notes had gone to the studio, but I thought they’d at least informed Gemma of the contents. From the look on her face when Con showed her the latest addition, she’d been completely blindsided. The blood had drained from her face, and her eyes had gone round as saucers. I thought for a minute that she might pass out, but she’d managed to pull herself together.
Finally, I could stand it no longer. “Hey.” I waited until her gaze lifted to mine. “They’ll find him, you know.”
Her eyes immediately dropped back to her lap, where she picked at a loose thread on her leggings. “I just don’t understand. Like...” She peered helplessly at me. “Did I do something to encourage him?”
“I seriously doubt it. And even if you did”—I locked eyes with her—“no one deserves this.”
She tried for a little smile but failed miserably, her eyes sad. “I’ve been racking my brain, trying to think of who it could be, but...” She lifted her hands, fingers splayed wide. “I just don’t know who would do something like this.”
“It may not be anyone you know,” I replied. “There’s no specific definition for obsession.”
I’d been reading up on it over the past few days, ever since that last note had arrived. It’d been particularly gory and graphic, citing various ways in which he planned to kill and eat her. Whoever was behind this had obviously done a lot of research, because the letter was incredibly detailed. It still made my stomach turn thinking about it.
“You may have met him once, or it could be someone you’ve known your entire life. Who knows?” I shrugged. “It’s up to the police to figure out the who and why of it. It’s my job to keep you safe in the meantime.”
“I know.” She sighed, then leaned one elbow on the arm of the couch and propped her head on her hand. “And I appreciate it—really. I just wish they could hurry up and find the guy.”
“Maybe he’ll slip up, and they’ll catch him.”
“Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced, though, and for several minutes, we lapsed into silence.
I sneaked peeks at her from time to time, but she just stared off into space, seemingly a thousand miles away. I checked my phone and noticed the time. The next patrol should be coming through soon, and I wanted to do a perimeter check of the property just in case.
I pushed to my feet. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”
Gemma nodded but didn’t respond, and I headed out the front door, locking up behind me. My truck was parked in Gemma’s driveway once more, a bright red beacon to let everyone know I was here. I made a sweep of the yard, checking for anything out of place, any evidence that someone had been here recently, but there was nothing. I checked windows again accessible from the outside, but everything was locked up tight, just as it had been this morning.
The locksmith wasn’t able to come out until tomorrow morning, so I’d blocked the side entrance to the garage in the meantime. Gemma had changed the code for the front door, and as of right now, she and I were the only two who had access to it.
I was still fucking livid that someone had bled her brakes. The more I thought on it, the more I believed it had been done here in her garage. If someone had opened the bleeder valve while she’d been out somewhere, fluid would have drained from the lines each time she’d pressed the brake while driving. She couldn’t have made it very far without running out of fluid completely and losing all stopping power. More than likely, she would have remembered a change in pressure last time she’d driven her car, but she remained adamant that everything had been fine. And I believed her. Which sucked even more, because it meant that her accident was my fault.
Just as I rounded the side of the house, the sound of a car cruising slowly up Gemma’s street caught my attention. I saw the distinctive light bar of the cruiser approaching, and I headed out to the street to meet him.
The officer slowed to a stop and rolled his window down just as I stepped off the curb. “Are you with Miss Malone?”
“I am.” I held out a hand. “Vince Incarnato with Quentin Security Group.”
“Reimer.” We shook hands, then he pointed to her house. “Nothing yet?”
“Nope, everything’s been quiet.” I didn’t truly expect anything less. Unless the person lived close by, I had a feeling he wouldn’t strike again until he’d heard news of her accident.
Reimer bobbed his head. “I’m on ‘til eleven, so I’ll keep an eye out.”
I stepped back. “I appreciate it.”
Reimer eased back into the street, and I turned to head back inside. There, I checked the garage and all of the windows and doors. Her ranch was a little over a thousand square feet, and it didn’t take long until I was back in the living room seated across from Gemma. It was going on dinnertime, and I couldn’t remember her eating anything today, with the exception of a pre-workout smoothie this morning.
“You hungry?”
She gave her head a little shake. “I’m good.”
I eyed her. “You need to eat something.”
Her gaze flicked to mine, the blue depths story and shadowed. “I don’t know if I can,” she finally admitted. “I still feel kind of sick to my stomach.”
I understood, but she didn’t need to pass out on top of everything else. “Something light, then,” I said, pushing from the couch. “Got any salad mix?”
I was sure she did, since it seemed to be the only thing she ate half the time. I had chicken breasts stashed away, and I was already pulling them out by the time she walked into the kitchen behind me. We never actually sat down to eat dinner together, instead keeping to ourselves. I had no idea if she was a vegetarian or not, because I’d never seen her eat meat of any kind.
I held up the chicken. “Will you eat this?”
“As long as it’s not fried.”
“Good enough for me.” I pulled a knife from the butcher’s block and gestured toward the table situated in the breakfast nook. “Sit.”
Her lips turned down at my command, but she seemed too emotionally drained to do anything other than follow my directive.
I worked in silence, searing the chicken then tossing it with the salad. I slid a plate in front of Gemma and handed her a fork before taking the seat across from her. She twirled the fork in her hand, then finally speared a piece of lettuce and lifted it to her lips.
She was never this quiet. She avoided me most of the time, yes, but she was never afraid to talk back or challenge me in some way. Tonight, she was pensive, deep in thought.
I lifted a brow. “You good?”
She lifted one shoulder. “Just thinking.”
Probably about the situation at hand. I opened my mouth to speak, but she beat me to it.
“I was wondering...” She rolled her lips together. “If there might be a way to... deter him.”
I speared her with a glance. “If you’re thinking of doing something stupid, like using yourself for bait, you can throw that out the window right now.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I was thinking.”
“Good, because it’s not gonna happen.”
She ran her tongue over the front of her teeth in agitation, then set her fork down and leaned forward in her seat. “So... this guy’s obsessed with me.”
Was that a question or a statement? “It would appear that way. Why? What are you thinking?”
“What if I was no longer available?”
I lifted a brow. “That may not deter him. That might piss him off even more and make him lash out.”
“Maybe, but at least h
e’d be doing something instead of silently watching,” she pointed out. “Like you said, he’ll eventually slip up and get caught.”
“All right, I’ll bite.” I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. “So, let’s say you spin this story that you have a boyfriend. You’d have to go public with it to make sure he sees the two of you together. Who are you going to use? One of your musician buddies? The person writing these letters threatened to kill anyone in his way. Are you gonna put him in jeopardy?”
She flinched at my words and her face fell, but knowing I’d made my point brought no satisfaction. “Listen,” I said more softly. “Just let the police do their job.”
Her wide blue eyes clashed with mine, full of desperation. “What if it was more permanent? Like... a serious relationship?”
I dropped my hands to rest in my lap. “Same boat. You’re still putting someone else in danger. Or, even if it did scare this guy off, the relationship would have to last long enough that the guy would forget all about you and fixate on something—someone—else.”
She licked her lips. “How long?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Six months? A year?”
To that, she said nothing. After a long moment, I picked up my fork and resumed eating. I was almost done with my salad before she spoke again.
“Vince? I mean... Ink.”
“Yeah?” The nickname seemed strange coming from her. She was one of the few people who called me by my first name, and I actually preferred the sound of my name falling from her pretty lips.
Her gaze was pinned to the glass of water beside her plate, and it slowly rose to mine. “Um...”
I lifted my brows in question, and her cheeks went bright pink. She looked shy and almost... guilty?
“Do people call you Ink because of your last name or tattoos?”
I stared at her. “Both, probably.”
She nodded slowly. “Right.”
Something was... off. I dipped my chin at her. “Gemma?” Her head came up, but her gaze skittered away. “What’s on your mind?”