Protected by the Officer: A Safe Stalker Romance (Safe Stalkers)

by Phoebe Buck

  I let him lead me, ending up at a little sandwich shop I’ve never been to.

  “I feel like an idiot asking this since you live so close, but have you ever been to Geno’s?”

  I shake my head no and watch his eyes go wide.

  “How have you never been here?Holy shit, well, it’s a good thing you got me, Kitten because this place makes a hot beef unlike anything you’ve ever had before.”

  I blush when he calls me “Kitten.” It’s a stupid pet name that I want to be embarrassed to be called but, coming from his lips, it sounds like poetry.

  The surly man behind the counter perks up when he sees Detective Albright.

  “Mikey, my boy, where you been?”

  “Cleaning up these streets, where you think!” Both men laugh and shake a handshake over the counter. It’s the first time I’ve seen Officer Albright’s face light up with actual joy and it suits him. I thought he was sexy when he was broody and angry, but happy and relaxed, he’s even more my type.

  Shit, I might be in trouble here.

  Albright orders for us and we get our sandwiches in just a couple of minutes. He leads me *-/over to a small Formica table that looks like it’s older than my nan+restaurant.

  The second I bite into the sandwich, I understand why he was so excited to take me here. The juices fill my mouth and the melted gouda oozing out around my lips is intense. It’s so good I close my eyes and maybe even moan a little. It’s hard to tell the difference between reality and the fantasy world of au jus filling my mind.

  When I open my eyes again, Detective Albright is staring at me, his mouth hanging open like a schoolboy that’s just seen his first tit. I feel my face flushing again.

  “Detective Albright…”

  “No, call me Michael, please.”

  “Not Mikey?” I tease.

  “Only my mother and Geno are allowed to call me Mikey. You start making hot beef like Geno and we’ll talk about adding you to that list.” He points to me with the sandwich before taking another big bite.

  “Michael, then. When is your relief coming?”

  “My what?”

  “You know, the guy who takes over so you can go get some rest. Every time I’ve looked out my window all I see is you.”

  There’s a fierce red creeping around his collar and up to his neck. No, he can’t be blushing, not a man like this. And yet, as the red dances across the tip of his nose, I know that has to be it.

  “Well, you see. I’m kind of on my own with this one.” He half covers his face with his sandwich trying to subtly hide from me what I’ve already seen.

  “I also noticed you’re in an unmarked car. If you’re trying to keep Greg away, shouldn’t you have a police car to put the fear of God into him?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Maybe, I’ll talk to the boss about it, but this isn’t exactly, you know, official police business.”

  My mouth goes dry. “What do you mean? Like, you’re just doing this yourself?”

  Michael rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck to one side. “Don’t think I’m a creep or anything, alright, but my captain said no to the surveillance detail, and I had a week off. I couldn’t just leave you out here to fend for yourself.”

  “You’re burning a week’s leave to sit outside my house? Why? You don’t even know me.”

  Michael licks his lips and presses them into a thin line. “Joanna, I…” he trails off and clears his throat.

  My head is spinning and my heart pounding, but there’s also a warm something wiggling its way through my stomach.

  Is it weird that he’s essentially stalking me too? Sure, but he doesn’t fill me with the same dread that Greg does.

  I know Michael isn’t going to hurt me, but I don’t know what to do with the realization that he might be feeling this same attraction I am.

  “Tell me.” The words come from my throat in a breathy whisper like I’m some classic movie star speaking to her leading man.

  “I don’t know how to explain it. I just know you need me and I’m not leaving your side until I know you’re safe.”

  “And then?” I bite my lower lip as our eyes meet. In this haze of emotion, his deep blue eyes swirl in the low light of the room. My heart thumps in my ears, already imagining what I’ll do when he tells me he’ll never leave because that’s what I know deep down I want him to say.

  His eyes shift away from mine lightning-fast, finding a tile on the floor down behind me to focus on, “And then we go back to our lives.”

  All the air leaves my chest like a deflated party balloon. I slump back in my chair, dropping the last quarter of my sandwich in the little plastic basket it came in.

  Well, there it is.

  Not the answer I was hoping for, but the one I knew in the back of my stupid head was coming. A man like him, strong and fit and full of pulsating masculine energy, can have his choice of girls. It’s not me, not this time. I’m not special, no matter how much I thought I might be.

  He grabs the basket in front of me without asking if I’m done and throws it up on the counter. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

  I follow him out and walk side by side the long few blocks back to my apartment building. This time there is no arm in arm, just cold silence as we try to pretend that whatever happened back there in that small moment before he broke the veil of glass hovering around us, didn’t happen.

  I feel like a skinned cat, exposed and vulnerable. This is worse than the feeling that buried itself in my chest when I first caught a glimpse of Greg and knew I’d seen him before.

  When we round the last corner, something red like a splat of fresh blood catches my eye. Before I have a chance to process what I’m looking at, Detective Albright has forced his body in front of mine and has his fingers wrapped around his side piece I didn’t even know he was carrying.

  “Michael…”

  “Stay behind me.” He reaches back, brushing my upper arm with his fingertips as he scans the surrounding area. But there’s nothing. Everything on the street looks normal except for the bouquet of deep red roses laying next to my basement apartment window.

  We move in sync, slowly creeping forward. I keep my eyes trained on the muscles flexing between his shoulder blades. If something bad is coming, I don’t want to see it before it arrives.

  He crouches down with his head still held high and snatches the flowers before drawing back up and in front of me protectively, backing me nearly against the brick wall. His nimble fingers flip the pale pink card around. Scrawled across it are the words “miss you.”

  “I knew he was still here.” Detective Albright mumbles into the flowers, pulling each one to the side to make sure there’s nothing else hiding between the petals.

  I take a big breath and pull the bouquet from his hand, sidestepping his imposing frame and hurling the whole mess of flowers into the street where they are promptly run over by an Uber driver who flips me off.

  “This is what I think of your flowers, Greg,” I yell at the top of my voice. He’s watching, he must be.

  I feel thick hands pull me back and into the entrance of the apartment. “Don’t antagonize him. You’re only going to make it worse.” Michael hisses into my ear, the heat of his breath tingling all the way down my neck.

  “You can’t tell me what to-hey. How did you get us past the security door?”

  “That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

  I put my hands on my hips and purse my lips. “I guess I have two stalkers now.”

  “I’m not-I didn’t-listen, I talked to Margaret and she was kind enough to give me a copy of the key.”

  God damn Margaret.

  She’s too sweet for this city. She’s been here since before this area was rough. She’s ridden out decades of change, but it hasn’t changed her heart one bit.

  “Do you make it a habit of shaking down old ladies for their house keys?”

  “Psh,” he waves his hand at me, finally letting go of his gun that I’m pretty
sure he’s not supposed to have. “There was no shakedown. She invited me in for tea and when I told her I might need access to the building for police business, she offered up her spare.”

  “But this isn’t police business.” I waggle my eyebrows at him and manage to pry a sweet, gentle smile from him.

  “No, but Margaret doesn’t need to know that.”

  I tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear and cross my arms over my chest, unsure how this should end.

  There’s a part of me that wants to shove him out the door and tell him to get the hell out of here, but there’s another part of me screaming that I should jump him and drag him down the stairs to my room. How can I hate and want to fuck this guy all at the same time?

  It must be the adrenaline.

  I’m sure that’s what’s messing with my mind and putting me into flight or fuck mode.

  “Well, I better get back to my post.” Thank God he said it so I didn’t have to make the call.

  I nod and make my way to the stairs. Just when I get the guts to turn back and ask him to come inside, I head the outer entrance door close with a heavy thud.

  Chapter 3

  Michael

  I thought I’d have this wrapped up by now, but Greg is careful. The thought of going back to work while he’s still out there terrorizing Joanna is giving me an ulcer and the gallons of coffee I’ve been drinking isn’t helping. There’s just nothing, no trace of him.

  That bouquet was the closest thing I had to a real clue since I posted up outside her door and Joanna destroyed it without a second thought. That stupid, infuriating woman threw away my best chance to find this asshole.

  It’s a good thing I can’t pursue her like my dick is begging me to because we would tear each other apart.

  No, I can’t give up.

  I google the name of the flower shop and call them, hoping they’ll give up the name of the client. I’m not surprised when they tell me no, but since I’m not supposed to be here at all, a warrant is out of the question for now.

  I guess it’s back to waiting.

  My eyes feel like they’re sinking into the back of my skull and my head is swimming with white fuzz.

  I take a swig from my metal water bottle, hoping the water refreshes me. I know it’s lack of sleep that’s finally catching up with me, but hydration could help me wring the last bit of strength from my weary body.

  I press my forehead into my fists, leaning forward on my knees and letting my eyes close for just a second.

  The crash jolts me awake, but I fall back on my ass as soon as I stand up. It’s pitch black aside from the city lights.

  How long have I been asleep?

  I swing my head back and forth, trying to find the source of the sound. I expect to see Greg, trying to break into Joanna’s window, but there’s no one there. Her lights are off and the apartment is quiet.

  What time is it?

  The sound was metallic, like a car crash or a trash can being knocked over, but everything on the street is as it should be. Something is scurrying under a streetlamp, but I can’t tell if it’s a rat or a squirrel. Doesn’t matter. There’s no way it’s the source of the noise.

  Then my foot hits something hard that clangs as it rolls away from me on the pavement. My water bottle.

  Great. I’ve scared myself.

  The door creaks open behind me and I stumble to my feet, not wanting anyone to get the jump on me.

  Joanna’s soft eyes land on me, her brow knit up with exhaustion and worry, “Michael?

  Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I must have dozed off and dropped my water bottle.

  Did I wake you?”

  “Uh,” she looks down at her slippered feet and oversized t-shirt turned nightgown. “No, I couldn’t sleep. But when I heard the sound, I thought I should come to check it out.”

  I sigh and rub my jaw.

  Why does she always do the one thing I don’t want her to do? “You should have stayed inside. What if the noise had been Greg breaking into my apartment.”

  “I brought a weapon. I’m not stupid.” She folds her arms and tilts her head to the side.

  “Let’s see it.”

  She sheepishly holds up a curling iron, the cord trailing down to the floor. I shake my head, but can’t stop the small chuckle that escapes me.

  “It’s heavier than it looks.”

  “Joanna, please. Just go inside and lock the door.” I turn away from her and slump down on the porch again, staring into the darkness.

  “You’re not going to leave, are you?” It’s not a question, not really. We both know the answer already.

  “Not until you’re safe.”

  “Well, then at least come in and sleep on my futon.” I twist around to her holding the door open, an arm extended to help pull me up.

  “I can’t do that. I need to keep watch.” I snort and rub my eyes, punishing them for daring to close on me.

  “Come on, Michael,” her voice is soft and silky as caramel, a warm life raft slowly encircling me and pulling me back to shore, “If you’re really here to protect me, then surely the best place for you to be is inside my apartment.”

  “I’ll come in, but I don’t want to risk him attacking while I’m asleep.”

  “You woke yourself up with a water bottle. I think you’ll be able to hear a man breaking in. Besides, you’re no good to me like this.” She kicks at my hip.

  Of course, she’s right.

  I’m halfway to hallucinating from lack of sleep. If I don’t at least get a few hours I’ll be no match for a man at his full strength.

  “Just for tonight.” I gather my few things and begrudgingly follow behind her, plodding down the stairs like a puppy with his tail between his legs.

  After fighting with the futon for a few seconds, she manages to get it to behave and lie flat.

  “It’s a bit lumpy, but it’s better than the concrete outside.”

  I sit hard on the edge of the metal frame. She wasn’t lying about its condition, but it feels like luxury after spending days catching cat naps in my car. Joanna rummages in a small chest and tosses me a pillow with a Peppa Pig pillowcase and a mustard and black crochet blanket that looks like something my nan would have made in the 70s.

  “Thank you.” I almost whisper it.

  “You’re the one slaving away for me. It’s the least I can do.” She squeezes my shoulder and for a second her face goes flat, an expression I can’t read. She leans ever so slightly towards me before dropping her hand from my shoulder and slinking to her bed in the corner and turning off the light.

  I should stay up for a bit and scope the place out, but with a soft blanket in my hand, I can’t fight the heaviness growing behind my eyelids. I fall into the mattress and sink deep into the black.

  When I do finally open my eyes, the bright light of the day is streaming into the room and I can smell something savory and spicy.

  “Oh, you’re awake. I hope I wasn’t being too loud.” Joanna walks over with a spatula in hand and a sweet smile on her face.

  “No, you didn’t. What time is it.”

  Her face pinches as she taps her chin, “Uh, quarter past 11, I think.”

  “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

  She laughs and walks back to the corner of the studio that serves as the “kitchen” and stirs whatever she has cooking on the stovetop. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing bad happened and you needed the sleep.”

  I grunt and nod, swiping a hand over my eyes to clear the sleep out of them. I scan the room, taking in the sparse furnishings. She has a double bed with fairly plush blankets, but no headboard. There’s a small desk in the corner with a cheap floor lamp next to it and the futon I’m sitting on has an art deco style rug that looks like it’s seen better days.

  “Is this it?”

  Joanna scoffs and shakes her head at me. “It’s London. I’m lucky to have this much room for the price I pay. It’s a literal palace in here compared to some o
f the listings I’ve seen.”

  “Well, at least there are fewer places for someone to hide.”

  “See, you just have to find the positives.” She winks at me and slides meaty pieces of bacon onto a plate next to a couple of slices of toast. She hands me the plate and sits next to me. She has the whole of the couch but sits so close our legs are touching.

  An honorable man, one here to just do his job and leave would move away. Maybe I’m not as good of a guy as I think, because I stay planted right where I am. The feel of her pressed against me is just too luscious.

  We eat in silence. I should try to make small talk, but my head is racing with the words she said last night.

  And then?

  I hadn’t thought that far ahead and just blurted out the answer I knew I was supposed to give.

  When the job is done, the citizen safe, we should both go back to our lives. We’re not friends. This is a transaction from a government servant to a subject in need.

  And yet.

  And yet I know it’s a lie.

  She’s already inside me, infecting every cell in my body like a virus. There’s no going back to life without her.

  She grabs my plate from me when I’m done and shoos me off the futon, folding it back into a couch and crashing down into it. Joanna leans back closing her eyes and even though I’m still half asleep, all I want to do is devour that soft skin.

  But there’s a smell and it’s not a very nice smell. She senses it too, she must, because her nose is scrunched and she’s half-opened an eye looking at me.

  Oh, that’s right. I’m the one who hasn’t showered in almost a week.

  I thought if I changed every day it wouldn’t get that bad, but then I ran out of clothes and I couldn’t leave to go get new ones and leave her house unattended. What if he was watching too, waiting for the moment I let my guard down.

  “I hate to ask, but do you think I could take a shower.”

  Her head pops off the back of the couch and her eyes go wide, “I mean, of course, you can. I just…” She bites her bottom lip and her eyes dip to my chest. “Towels are in the cabinet next to the toilet. I’m afraid I only have flowery scented soap so I hope you don’t mind smelling like a woman.” She smiles and shrugs her shoulders.