Dark Kisses

by Kelly Myers

  Something that doesn’t exist in real life. At least not for me.

  When I reach my room, I walk into the huge adjoining bathroom and toss my robe over a chair. Then, I flip on the water and step into the shower to rinse the chlorine off. I tilt my head back and let the specially-designed, rainfall shower head drench me. I love my shower. It has mist options, six body massage jets and LED lights. It has ridiculous, unnecessary features and makes me very happy.

  An image of Jax, naked and wet, pops into my head and my stomach drops.

  Oh, my. What am I going to do about this?

  The only thing I can do. Keep my distance and avoid him at all costs.

  I hit the water off, grab a white, fluffy Turkish towel and wrap it around my body. After I brush my teeth, I slide a short, black La Perla silk slip over my head and sit down at my vanity. Bulbs circle the mirror and I brush my dark, shoulder-length hair until it gleams. Then, I apply an endless array of night creams.

  Finally, I pull back the luminous sateen Millesimo bedsheets made of high-quality Egyptian cotton and sink down against a pile of pillows.

  My eyes slide shut and I see a pair of dark brown eyes the color of melted chocolate.

  Oh, God, it’s going to be a long night, I think.

  I’m not sure how long it takes me to fall asleep, but it eventually happens. It only feels like I’ve been sleeping for 30 minutes or so when I jump awake. The room is dark, dimly lit by the glowing lights outside the large glass windows. The clock on the nightstand reads 2:20am.

  I sit up in bed, pulling the sheets up to my neck and tilt my head, listening. I don’t know what woke me, but something feels off. I wait and then there’s a sound. Almost like someone is in the house.

  But, that’s impossible.

  I made sure everything was locked up. Didn’t I?

  I don’t ever swear, but, crap. I’m getting this weird feeling. Like, suddenly, I’m not alone. I really wish that new alarm was in right about now. I take a deep breath, slide out of bed and pull on a matching La Perla robe.

  Then, I do the only thing I can. I move out of my room and start down the hallway to investigate. My bare feet glide quietly over the floor and I double-check the windows as I pass them. Kitchen, bathroom, family room, office, library...everything on the first floor is secure. At the front door, I check the lock and stand up on tiptoes and peer out a glass window pane.

  Nothing.

  I must’ve imagined it. Or, maybe I was still dreaming and thought I heard something.

  I glance up at the darkened second floor and decide I don’t want to investigate up there. There are too many rooms, too many hiding places. I don’t hear anything from up there and I don’t want to, either.

  With a sigh, I start back toward my room and when I pass the side table where the house phone sits, it rings. I nearly jump out of my skin at the sudden, harsh sound. It rings three more times and is on the verge of going into voicemail when I swipe it up. I don’t know why I do. But, something overtakes me, compels me to lift the handset.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “Are you having sweet dreams of me, Easton?”

  “Who is this?” I demand.

  “Rest assured, I’ll be in your bed soon.”

  Click.

  I slam the phone down, hurry back to my room and lock the door. Again, I double-check the patio doors and pull the long curtains shut tightly. I jump back into bed and pull the covers up to my chin.

  I wish Jax was here, I think.

  8

  Jax

  The following morning, Griff and I head over to the security store and buy every piece of state-of-the-art equipment we can get our hands on. We have a buddy that works here who hooks us up with a nice discount thanks to his military connection with Ryker.

  We load it into the back of Ryker’s SUV since both Griff and I only own motorcycles right now. As soon as Platinum Security gets more money in the bank, I plan to buy some company cars for us to use. In the meantime, though, I’m glad Ryker lets us take his car whenever we need.

  Ryker doesn’t go out too much so most of the time his Expedition sits in the underground garage below his apartment. Ryker has a lot of baggage from his days as a Navy SEAL and he hasn’t adjusted well to civilian life again. I don’t know exactly what happened to him, but according to Griff, Ryker was on some secret mission when it turned into an absolute shitstorm. His entire team was killed and Ryker has been drowning in his own hell and guilt ever since.

  I get it. More than anyone, I can relate to survivor’s guilt and understand what it means to fail the ones who depend on you. The ones who love and trust you.

  It fucking sucks and creates this black hole within your soul. A void that leaves you feeling empty and miserable. It sucks every emotion inside its swirling vortex until you’re left feeling like a useless shell of a man.

  That’s why the success of P.S. is so important to me. I think by giving these guys something to focus on, jobs tailored to their specific skills, it will help them heal.

  Maybe it’ll even help me.

  My phone rings and I glance down at the caller i.d.-- Olivia Williams, Easton’s assistant. “Jax Wilder,” I say.

  “Hi, it’s Liv. Easton had more calls last night and she’s a little freaked out.”

  “I’m at the security store right now. Just bought her a whole new system and my associate and I are heading over to start the install.”

  “That’s great,” she says.

  I turn away from Griffin, lower my voice. “Is she okay?” I ask Olivia.

  “I don’t know. The messages are getting darker and I think she’ll feel better once there’s an alarm and cameras.”

  “Sure. Makes sense.”

  “As soon as you get here, I’ll get you settled. Then, I have to meet Easton.”

  “She’s not there?” I feel a wave of anger. She needs to lay low and not be gallivanting all over town.

  “She had a meeting, but she’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “Alright. We’re on our way.”

  I disconnect the call and Griff raises a brow. “What’s up?” he asks.

  I run a hand through my unruly hair and pull out my pack of cigarettes. I tilt the package toward Griff and he takes one. We light up and I shrug. “More calls and they’re getting darker.”

  “Probably a crazed fan,” he comments and inhales. “There’s been no actual contact, though, right?”

  “Right. Just calls to her home machine. I’m not overly worried, but sounds like she’s getting scared.”

  “What about a trace?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. I’m sure it’s coming from a burner, though. Or, an encrypted voice app.”

  “If it’s someone who knows what they’re doing. If it’s just a crazy fan you might be able to track them down. Put a stop to it sooner than later.”

  “You’re right. I’ll try today.” I glance down at my watch. “Let’s head over. Liv has to head out soon.”

  A little before 10am, I pull the Expedition up Easton’s circular driveway. Griff hops out and opens the back to begin unloading while I walk up and knock. Liv opens the door. “This is Griff,” I say and nod over my shoulder. “Griff, this is Liv.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she says with a little wave. As usual, her gaze stays on him a moment longer than necessary. He pauses unloading equipment and tosses her a salute. Finally, she drags her eyes away. “Go ahead and use Easton’s office as your HQ and feel free to do whatever you need to do. I’ll be back in a few hours. If you need anything, just text me.”

  “I’m going to want to listen to the new messages,” I tell her.

  “I already put the machine on her desk for you,” Liv says and starts down the driveway where her Prius is parked. I notice that she takes the roundabout way and glides past Griff for a closer look and a friendly smile. I smother a chuckle. Poor Griffin. Women are all over him like shit on velcro.

  I head over and grab a few boxes. “C’mo
n, we can stick these right inside the front door. If you want to start setting it up, I’m going to go listen to the newest messages.”

  “Sure thing.”

  After lugging the rest of the boxes into the hallway, I leave Griff to work and head down to the office. I sit in the smooth leather seat on the other side of the desk and see the V-Tech cordless phone and digital answering system just like Liv promised. I put the phone on speaker and hit play.

  Again, that mechanical-sounding voice fills the air. “Hi, Easton. I'm watching you.” I skip ahead and finally reach last night’s recordings.

  “Hello?” Easton’s warm, lush voice answers.

  She answered? Fuck.

  “Are you having sweet dreams of me, Easton?”

  “Who is this?” she demands. I can hear the fire in her voice. And, the slight trembling.

  “Rest assured, I’ll be in your bed soon.”

  Click.

  Fucking creep.

  The rest of the calls make my skin crawl:

  “You’re going to suck me dry.”

  “It is going to all be over soon.”

  “I have tools I can bring.”

  What the fuck does that mean? I need to stop this fucker. No wonder she’s freaking out.

  Calls are no longer traced manually across switches. Instead, law enforcement simply looks at the metadata generated. Metadata means “data about data,” and that includes things like where a call originated, its destination and the type of phone used whether cellular, landline or payphone.

  These records are small fragments that can be easily stored digitally and phone companies can retain them for a long time which is great for investigators like me.

  What’s not good, though, is when a call comes from a burner or encrypted voice app. Then, it’s not so easy to solve and requires someone who knows how to dig deeper and circumvent the digital walls. Someone like a hacker.

  I really need to find a qualified computer expert who specializes in hacking and hire them to work at P.S. As soon as I can, I think.

  In the meantime, I do what I know to trace the calls and just like I predicted, hit a dead-end. Whoever is calling doesn’t want his or her identity discovered. I sigh, shove a hand through my unruly hair and crave a cigarette.

  First things first, though. I head back down the hall and check in with Griff. “Fucker’s calling from a burner or encrypted app. Know any good hackers?”

  “Are you kidding?” he asks with a smirk. “I worked for the CIA.”

  “As soon as I can afford to bring someone onboard, let me know who you recommend. Obviously, someone who doesn’t mind using back channels and other shady shit.”

  He nods then starts to give me the lowdown on where he thinks the best camera placements are so coverage of the house is most efficient. As usual, Griff has a discerning eye and I tell him to start installing the cameras. “I’ll get to work on the alarm,” I say.

  I reach for some tools and remove the alarm panel beside the front door. What a piece of shit, I think. As I hold it up and blow the dust off its surface, the front door opens. My heightened senses kick in and I reach for the gun holstered at my hip.

  The short, dark-haired man steps inside and his eyes go wide when he realizes he’s looking down the barrel of my Glock. He throws his hands up and starts chattering in another language. French, I think.

  “Who are you?” I demand.

  “Jacques! Easton’s personal chef!” he cries in a thick accent.

  I see Griff move up behind him, gun drawn. From the corner of his eye, Jacques notices Griff and looks over his shoulder and screams. I lower my gun and motion for Griff to do the same before the man faints or drops dead of a heart attack.

  “I’m Easton’s new security,” I say. “From now on, this door is going to be locked and the alarm will be set. You’re going to need to knock and wait until Easton or Liv answers.”

  “Oui, oui.”

  I wave for him to move around and turn to look at Griff who shrugs. I shake my head and, just as I’m about to shut the front door, an entourage of people appear, heading up the driveway. They give Griff and me curious looks, but proceed right into the house.

  “Excuse me?” I say. “But, who the hell are all of you?”

  “Who are you?” a man with dark eyeliner asks.

  “Easton’s security detail.”

  “We’re her hair, makeup and wardrobe team. She has an event coming up and we have lots to do. Excuse us.” He smiles at me, winks at Griffin and they all parade down the hallway.

  “It’s like Grand Central Station around here,” Griff comments.

  I shake my head. “This has to stop. People can’t just be walking in and out all day with no supervision.”

  He nods in agreement. “Okay, I’m going to get these cameras up and running.”

  “Thanks,” I say and turn back to the main panel.

  A few hours later, Griff has the cameras in place, I’ve mounted alarm strips at all the points of entry and we hook it all up to the panel which will notify the alarm company if anything odd should occur.

  Easton should sleep well tonight and from now on because no one is getting in this house without punching in the code to disarm the state-of-the art system.

  As Griff and I break down some more boxes and gather up our tools, I hear a car pull up. A moment later, Easton and Liv walk through the front door. God, she looks stunning with her raven hair hanging loose around her porcelain face and those bright red lips. My heart stutters in my chest.

  Her emerald green eyes lift up to meet mine and she smiles. “Hello, Jax.” Her gaze moves to Griff who has stopped working and stares like a smitten schoolboy. A muscle tightens in my jaw and I force myself to be polite.

  “Easton, this is Griffin Lawson. He helped me install the new security system.”

  “Nice to meet you, Griffin,” she says and extends a hand.

  I grit my teeth and feel my nostrils flare like a bull who sees red. I don’t like them looking at each other and I certainly don’t like them touching. Now, instead of looking at my tattoos, she’s looking at his. Instead of looking into my eyes, she’s looking into his bright, sky-blue ones.

  I’ve never been jealous in my life. Until now. And, I don’t like it at all.

  “My pleasure,” Griff says with a charming smile. “I’m a big fan, Miss Ross.”

  “How kind of you to say.”

  Did she just bat her lashes at him?

  “Griff was just on his way out,” I say. I see him look my way with a smirk, but I ignore him. “I need to speak with you,” I tell her.

  “I don’t have much time.” She glances down at the delicate Gucci watch on her wrist.

  “Let’s go down to your office.” I toss the Expedition’s keys to Griff. A little too hard and they smack his chest. “I’ll see you later,” I say, dismissing him. I don’t like the way he’s looking at her and the sooner he leaves, the better.

  “See ‘ya.” With a smile, he heads out.

  I release a low breath and try to understand why I’m feeling so possessive over Miss Easton Ross. She isn’t my girlfriend or lover. She’s just a client. A client who is lining Platinum Security’s coffers and I need to make sure everything stays professional. That’s all, I try to convince myself.

  In her office, I wander over to the desk and prop a hip against it. I cross my arms and study her. She wears a stylish navy dress with a designer belt that cinches in her tiny waist. Her hips flare out and curve making my mouth water. The dress hits her right below the knee and she wears a pair of high heels that give her a couple more inches in height. Still, I tower over her.

  I get the urge to drag her into my arms. Hike her dress up, push a long leg between her thighs and slide her forward until she’s straddling my upper thigh. I swallow hard instead and give her a fierce look. “I almost shot your chef today,” I tell her.

  Her beautiful green eyes widen. “What?”

  “It was like Grand Central S
tation here this morning and that stops now. No more people walking in and out, unannounced and unmonitored. From now on, the door will be locked and the alarm will be on. Got it?”

  Her eyes narrow and she presses those red lips together. “That’ll never happen.”

  “Sorry?”

  She waves a perfectly-manicured hand through the air dismissing everything I just said. “I have too many people who work for me and they come and go at all different times. What you’re proposing doesn’t make sense and is inconvenient.”

  “What I’m proposing is a security measure that will keep your ass safe,” I clarify.

  Those pouty lips purse. “I understand that but-”

  “But nothing,” I interrupt her. She raises a dark brow and I get the feeling nobody interrupts this Princess. Too bad, I think. But, then my voice softens. “If you don’t feel safe-- and Liv told me that you didn’t last night-- then I’m not doing my job very well.”

  I can see her ponder my words for a moment and then she inclines her head. “You’re right. I couldn’t fall asleep and after the calls started, I kept checking all the doors and windows.” She meets my gaze and I feel like I’m staring into two, highly-polished emeralds. “I want this to be over. But, above all, I want to feel safe.”

  For the first time, I see a flash of fear. My senses go on alert and my gut clenches. “Did something else happen?”

  She glances away and clasps her hands.

  I stand up and take two long strides over to her. Then, I reach out and tilt her chin up, forcing her to make eye contact. “Easton? Tell me what happened.”

  At my touch, her green eyes snap up and meet mine. “It’s probably nothing,” she says. “I mean, it is nothing. I just had this weird feeling today…”

  “What kind of feeling?”

  “Like someone was watching me. Maybe following me?” She shakes her head, pulls away. “I don’t know. I’m probably just being silly.”

  “When I was a cop, I learned to always listen to my gut.”