Dying for Love

by Angel Nicholas

  Grace rolled over and glared at the blaring alarm clock. Going to work did not appeal, especially since she’d left Matt’s house so late. Yawning, she buried her head under the pillow. Maybe she could play hooky. She was on intimate footing with the boss.

  The noise got louder. If she was going to sleep in, which she wasn’t, she should at least turn off the stupid alarm. She slapped the OFF button and slid out of bed, stumbling into the bathroom.

  Thirty minutes later, she stood staring out her balcony doors and sipped the nectar of gods. Or coffee, as some people preferred to call it. The night had brought a heavy frost to coat everything in shimmering white.

  A few joggers braved the path below. One glanced up, she could have sworn looking directly at her balcony, as he passed. She frowned. The guy seemed familiar. Puzzled, she headed into the kitchen to rinse out her cup.

  Watching the black dregs of coffee swirl down the drain, it hit her. The man who’d offered her help on the Greenbelt on Saturday. No surprise there. A lot of people regularly jogged the Belt. Pretty creepy that he’d appeared to be looking at her place. She made a mental note to mention him to the police next time.

  Ugh. She didn’t want a next time.

  Caffeine buzzing through her system, boosting her energy if not her mood, Grace jogged down the stairs to her car. She appreciated the fact that it still sat, undisturbed, in her parking space. She scooted in behind the wheel, buckled her seat belt and inserted her key into the ignition. A white square on her dashboard caught her gaze. Gooseflesh rose.

  “Crap.” She scanned her surroundings before reaching for the torn sheet of paper.

  I knew it’d only be a matter of time before you found another Sugar Daddy, skank.

  Did he fuck you good and hard yesterday, slut?

  I’m gonna have to work real hard to remind you

  you’re nothing but a trailer trash tramp.

  After I’m done with you,

  I’m gonna slice his dick off for sticking it in you.

  Next time you won’t get away so easy, bitch.

  Well. She set the paper on the passenger seat with trembling fingers. He’s becoming downright wordy. Nausea swept over her and the view through the windshield wavered.

  Really, she’d been fine with the short and not-so-sweet notes. She rested her forehead against the steering wheel, breathed deeply through her nose, and pretended she was somewhere else. Like the Caribbean. Seated on the white beaches of Barbados, listening to waves against the shore and the wind in the palm trees overhead.

  Knuckles rapped against her window and she jerked upright, her heart in her throat. Matt frowned down at her. “Open the door.”

  Pressing a hand to her racing heart, she climbed out of the car. “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you I’d come by and pick you up this morning when you insisted on returning home last night…alone. Don’t you remember?”

  The wind blew a strand of hair across her cheek and he tucked the curls behind her ear. His touch went all the way down to her… Clearing her throat, she leaned back against her car.

  “Guess my memory is going in my old age.”

  Matt quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah. Those gray hairs must be sucking the brain cells right out of your head.” His gaze moved to the interior of her car. “Why were you just sitting there?”

  “I was envisioning myself on a beach in Barbados.”

  “Really? You’ve been?”

  “No, but I watch the travel channel. I’ve looked into going a few times, but it never seemed like much fun. Going alone, I mean.” She stared at her toes peeking out from her open-toed heels. A pedicure might be in order. Bright pink, maybe. Or coral pink, like the inside of a seashell.

  She sighed. Persistent as he was, he’d find out sooner or later. “I got another note.”

  Swearing, Matt tugged her into his arms, rubbing her back, cradling her against him. Yeah, that partially answered her question. He mumbled something into her hair and she lifted her head. Her heart ached just looking at him. Holy cherubs, he was gorgeous. Big and manly, staring down at her with warmth and concern, willing to protect her from all the ugliness in the world. Only, who was going to protect her heart from him?

  Right there, standing in the parking lot in front of her condo with the chilly morning breeze ruffling her hair, a scary note lying on her seat and her nose full of his cologne, she admitted it. To herself, anyway. Matt had used a wrecking ball on her protective walls and dug his way right into her heart. She slid her arms around his waist and fisted the back of his shirt. A tremor swept through her, and he pulled her more firmly against him, no doubt thinking it was a shiver of fear. All she could do now was hold on for dear life and wait. Wait to find out how badly she would be torn up when he left.

  Grace wanted to scream and shake her fists, but it was pointless. “Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.” Ha. Tennyson didn’t know diddly-squat. What a crock of ground-up dandelion petals.

  “What did it say?”

  Huh? Everyone knew what Tennyson… Oh. Right.

  She shuddered. “It’s on the passenger seat.”

  Matt rounded the car and opened the passenger door. He tilted his head, lips flat-lining as he read the note. A muscle leaping in his jaw, he straightened and slammed the door shut.

  “Well, I suppose we’d better call Detective Harrison.”

  “Yeah.” Grace glanced at her watch. “We’ll be late.”

  He pulled out his cell phone and started dialing. Well, he was the boss. What difference did it make if they were late for work? She wrapped her arms around her waist. Work provided a welcome distraction from the psycho haunting her life, so there was that.

  “I am the boss.”

  She stared. Weird. It was like he’d read her mind.

  “What?”

  She parted her lips to answer, but he held up a finger and started talking into the phone.

  What a spectacularly miserable day. Grace collapsed on the couch and glared at her television. All day, her co-workers had given her a wide berth. She’d been glared at and gossiped about, repeat narrow-eyed glances thrown in her direction. It had been difficult to resist punching them. Or sticking her tongue out.

  They were totally overreacting.

  So what if she’d walked in half an hour late with the boss? It wasn’t like he’d bent her backward over the nearest desk, stuck his tongue down her throat and his hand up her skirt. She shifted and crossed her legs. Matt was turning her into some horny freak of nature if that turned her on. Which it did.

  Pushing to her feet, she stomped into the kitchen and flung open the refrigerator. Flipping thorny rose bushes. She never had gone grocery shopping, and lasagna with a side of mold wasn’t appealing. Heaving a sigh, she grabbed the bottle of soft red wine and slammed the door shut. Wine was made from grapes, therefore it was a fruit and totally counted as real food.

  Besides, she’d worked there for months. If she’d slept her way into the position, wouldn’t that little tidbit have emerged sooner? Did people think they were having sex in the restroom and supply closet all this time? Although, the supply closet had a comfy stack of toilet paper. She shook her head.

  Wow. Obsessed much, Grace?

  Okay, so they’d had amazing sex. Complete with mind-blowing orgasms. Multiple ones. Didn’t explain the preoccupation she’d developed in the past seventy-two hours. It could be Matt and not just the sex.

  Her doorbell rang and she hurried across the condo, eager for a distraction. Detective Harrison stood on the other side of her peephole. Hope surged. Maybe they’d caught the guy. She opened the door.

  “Detective Harrison. Hi.”

  “May I come in for a few minutes?”

  “Uh, sure. Yeah.” She gestured him inside, shifting her shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension. “Can I get you anything to drink?” Grace held up her wineglass. “Some wine, maybe?”

  Chuckling, he sat on her couch. �
��No thanks. I’m on the clock.”

  “Right. They probably frown on that.”

  “Yeah, just a little.”

  Silence settled like a thick wet blanket. The detective stared at her until she wanted to check for stains on her blouse or large hairy warts on her nose.

  “Oh.” He flushed. “Uh, the reason I’m here. You’re probably wondering.”

  “Yes.”

  “The guy you’ve noticed on the Greenbelt, have you seen him again?”

  “No, but I just got home.”

  He pulled a slim portfolio from his jacket. “Good. I brought some pictures along, if you wouldn’t mind looking through them. I thought your home would be more comfortable than the station.”

  That was sweet. “Thank you.”

  He handed over the album and she flipped through the pictures, staring at each face for a few seconds. The quiet of the room seeped into her. She sipped her wine.

  The pictures were creepy. Not men she wanted to meet on a well-lit day in the middle of Boise Towne Square, let alone the Greenbelt. Around the middle of the book, she stopped. “This guy. I’m positive he’s the one.”

  She stretched across the coffee table to hand Detective Harrison the album while pointing to the photo. His lips thinned.

  “This is a private detective. He’s quite well-known around the station. Name’s Gunner. We’ve never had a problem with him.”

  Her shoulders sagged. Didn’t seem like such a good lead after all.

  Rising from the couch, he tucked the picture into his jacket pocket. “I’ll get in touch with him and find out what’s going on. I promise I’ll call as soon as I know something, Miss Debry.”

  She started to insist he call her Grace then met his blue eyes—just as his gaze rose from her chest. Maybe not. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Buh-bye now. Have a nice day. Don’t let the door smack you on the ass on the way out.

  Something must’ve shown in her expression. Detective Harrison flushed and bolted out the door.

  “Hey, Grace, we still on for the concert in a few days?”

  Luke rested his shoulder against her doorjamb. “I know it’d be wild and crazy, but have you ever considered coming inside my office? You could have a seat. We could visit like normal people.”

  He stepped in and glanced out her window, his eyelid twitching. Grace followed his gaze. Nothing but a few other buildings and trees that had exploded in buds over the weekend. She frowned at him. Maybe he was afraid of heights, though that seemed illogical given how badly he wanted her office.

  Seated on the very edge of the chair nearest the door, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to iron out the details for Friday night. Plus, I wasn’t sure you’d still want to go since you’re seeing Mr. Duncan and all.”

  “Of course I still want to go. Just because I’m dating someone doesn’t mean I can’t have friends. How about you pick me up at my place?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Luke jumped up. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He turned and headed out the door. Five seconds later he reappeared. “I’ll be there at seven-thirty. I like to get there a little early.”

  “Okay. I’m looking forward to it. Should be fun.” She smiled and Luke disappeared.

  Her phone rang.

  “Hey, Grace. Could you step into my office for a moment, please?”

  “Sure. I’ll be just a sec.” Hanging up, she headed down the hall and knocked on Matt’s office door. The irony of the situation didn’t escape her. Not long ago, she’d stood there in petrified hesitation of her boss. Now, eager anticipation coiled in her belly and she smiled at Nancy.

  Matt opened the door and gestured her in, his eyes warming as they skimmed down her body like a physical caress. He closed the door. She slipped her arms up around his neck and kissed him. The simple feeling of his arms wrapping around her, pulling her tight against him and his mouth on hers sent desire spiraling down to curl her toes.

  He broke the kiss and smiled. “Not that I’m complaining—”

  “I should hope not.”

  “This isn’t why I asked you in here.” Snagging her hand, he pulled her to the chairs facing the windows. The scent of rich coffee filled his office and two full cups sat on the little table. The coffee in front of the chair he steered her into was the color of caramel. He’d prepared her coffee just as she liked. Another piece of her heart sheared off, one she could ill-afford to lose.

  “I wanted to talk about the notes you’ve been getting and the guy you’ve seen a few times.”

  Grace frowned. “Why do we need to do it again? And at work?” Where she could try, or at least pretend, to forget about it.

  “Because it’s more important than scheduling the electrician before the drywaller. I had an idea I wanted to go over with you.”

  “Okay.”

  “The incidents seem related to your past somehow. So…” He hesitated and fiddled with his shirt cuffs, not meeting her gaze—very un-Matt like. Her stomach coiled tight.

  Matt cleared his throat. “I contacted the Indiana Social Services and got a list of the people who fostered you. I thought we could see if we can pinpoint any likely suspects. Or at the very least discover a mobile home somewhere amongst them.”

  Grace sat, stunned mute. The nerve. Digging into her life, always pushing and prodding and sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. His bossy domineering ways were too much.

  Matt leaned forward and lifted her hand from her lap, holding it between his own. “Please don’t be upset with me, Grace. We have to figure this out before it’s too late. It would kill me if anything happened to you.”

  Some of her anger fled. Staring into his eyes, she couldn’t decide if the emotion there terrified or exhilarated her. “You had no right.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. My first concern is your safety.”

  The rest of her irritation dissipated on a sigh. She was being stubborn and stupid. So what if he had the entirety of her sad little childhood in a manila folder? Whoop-de-doo. “May I see them?”

  “Of course.” He rose and returned only a moment later with a black file folder. Inside, a modest stack of papers held the details of her youth. She flipped through them. Most of the early names meant nothing to her. She’d been too young.

  “I don’t suppose you have a map of Indiana? And Kentucky, apparently.”

  “As a matter of fact…” Matt again hopped up. Returning, he spread a full-sized map of Indiana across the floor. Then Kentucky. He held a yellow highlighter and glanced up at her expectantly.

  “Oh.” Her gaze dropped to the papers.

  They spent the next hour locating every miniscule town and big city she’d ever lived in. The painstaking process only illuminated how many places she’d been shuffled through. Twelve homes in as many years, following a convoluted route from Henderson, Kentucky to LaPorte, Indiana. Grace’s throat tightened painfully as she stared at the yellow circles on the map. So many.

  The foster families must have found her to be an extremely difficult child. She swallowed the lump in her throat and fought the tears burning her eyes. Common sense told her the foster- care system and not the families were responsible for all the moves. Her heart remained convinced that she was unlovable.

  Matt’s hand covered hers. A tear escaped to trickle down her cheek, to her mortification. No point in feeling sorry for yourself, Gracie. Suck it up.

  He wiped away her tear with his thumb. “You must have been a beautiful child. I can’t imagine how difficult it was for these families to give you up. The case worker I spoke with was very friendly and helpful, right up until I asked why you were transferred so many times. She clicked away at a computer. When she came back on the line her helpfulness had died an abrupt death. According to her, the details of your case are sealed. I was lucky she’d already sent the locations, otherwise I would’ve gotten nothing.”

  Grace’s brain kicked into gear. “Odd. Why would it be confidential? My paren
ts are dead. I have no relatives. Who would care?”

  “I agree.” He tapped a finger to the maps. “I also find this route interesting. You traveled farther and farther away from Kentucky.”

  “What makes you think that isn’t just coincidence?”

  Matt shrugged. “Instinct. You might be able to find out more than I did from the caseworker, though I imagine she’d want some proof of your identity. In the meantime, I’m going to hand off these names and addresses to the guy who does my background checks, along with the dates. I’ll put a rush on it, have him specifically search for people who lived in mobile homes at the time.”

  Matt lounged casually on the floor, oozing raw masculinity. She couldn’t help remembering the times his arms had been wrapped around her. The way she felt when he held her so tenderly. So protectively. She glanced away and crossed her arms tightly. She stood and paced the length of the office. “May I use your phone?”

  “You want to call the caseworker, I take it.”

  Matt stood in a fluid display of masculine power that actually made drool pool in her mouth. He brushed past and her nostrils flared. Holy cow, his cologne did things to her. Down, girl. She needed a distraction from emotional overload, but she needed to get a grip even more.

  Matt spun and bent her back over his arm. A flash of intent in his brown eyes and then his mouth was on hers. Rational thought fled. She moaned into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck, returning every ounce of the passion he fed her.

  The things he did to her, the way he made her feel…that couldn’t be an everyday sort of thing. He was special. The connection they shared was special. Chest hot and heavy, a piece of her resistance melted.

  Matt lifted her, aligning their bodies in perfection and another little piece puddled at Grace’s feet. Still the kiss went on, breath mingling, desire burning hotter with each stroke of his tongue. She curled his hair around her fingers, clinging to the soft strands and the hard muscles of his shoulders, desperate for an anchor.

  Dread burned, hotter than their passion, snapping her into awareness. Enrique Iglesias’ “Do You Know?” played in the background. She ripped her mouth from his and stared into his rich-brown eyes. Dear God, she knew all too well. Despair flashed, followed by panic. She pulled free of his arms and paced away.