Out of the Blue: Reed Security: Book Two

by Robin Leaf

Once she leaves, my hands rest on the counter as I wait for the darkness in my soul to return. It doesn’t. I still feel… better. Lighter. Content in the knowledge that she’s happy.

  Was that really what was bothering me about her?

  I know I love her more than anyone else in the world, but could Vanessa be right? Did I only allow myself to love Kaelyn because she was safe? I had to know she would never love me the same way. But who was I saving? Myself? Or anyone who could ever be stupid enough to fall for me?

  I’m not sure why, but Blue’s face pops in my head.

  Maybe a change is still all you need. Figure out what you can change, focus on that, and kick it in the ass.

  I dig in my pocket and pull out my wallet, searching for Noah’s card. It’s between my fingers when Tater enters the front.

  “You good, Doug?” Tater asks, probably hoping that I will finally puke my feelings all over him.

  “Dude,” I say, feeling like I’m doing something right for the first time in a long time. “We need to talk. While watching over Vanessa last night, I met this guy …”

  Seven

  Ember

  “You’ve been divorced for five months, Ember,” Kelly says through the speakers of my car. “I think it’s time you put yourself out there a little.”

  “I’ve been working too much to put myself anywhere. With Beckie out on maternity leave, someone has to school the newbies.”

  “These sixty hour weeks aren’t doing you any favors.” She sighs. “I miss you and our tequila Friday nights.”

  “I’ve been forced to take this weekend off,” I groan. “The higher ups are insisting on it. I think it’s just because they don’t want to keep paying me the overtime.”

  “Yay, save Friday night for me.” She pauses. “But why don’t you sound happy about it?”

  “I have to spend the weekend cleaning my apartment and catching up on laundry. And because I’m off, it means I’m required to go to Sunday brunch with my parents, where my mom will talk about my brother’s perfect marriage and his perfect kids and make passive-aggressive comments about my failed marriage and lack of kids, and I have to sit through it without the assistance of alcohol.”

  “Required?” she almost shrieks. “Like, what, they’ll ground you if you don’t go?”

  “Uh… how long have you known me?” She knows whining about my family, particularly my mother, is my superpower. “You should understand by now that it’s just easier to go through the spiel than to have to deal with the weeks of guilt-trippy aftermath.”

  “I do get it, but I figured she’d lay off once you turned thirty.” She pauses, I assume to take another drink of the beer she’s drinking. “You need to tell them to get fucked.”

  I can’t help the snort that comes out my nose and the ridiculous notion of telling my mother, of all people, to get fucked. She’s only been fucked twice in her lifetime, and that is still debatable. I’m quite sure my brother was created in a test tube.

  “I don’t particularly want to kill my mother. She would have a heart attack if she ever heard that word come out of my mouth.”

  At least I currently don’t want to kill my mother by naughty word. Being busy for the last five weeks has its perks, like not having to deal with her brand of crazy. Although, I can’t guarantee that after Sunday, my mind won’t change.

  I pull into the parking lot of my apartment. It’s the first time I’ve ever lived alone. If Kelly weren’t living with her stud of a boyfriend, we’d probably be roomies. Instead, I live on the other side of the complex from her. It was the only apartment available at the time.

  “Have you heard any more from your mystery admirer?”

  “No,” I admit, pulling into my parking space. “Things have been pretty quiet for a couple of weeks now.”

  “Maybe he got bored or finally got the hint since you blocked him again.”

  Putting my car into park, I sit for a second resting my head on the steering wheel, really not wanting to drag my tired ass the fifty or so steps to my apartment.

  “He just creates a new email address, and HR says I can’t change mine.” Sighing, I gather my stuff off my passenger seat. “It’ll become public knowledge anyway on our website.”

  “C’mon, Ember. Why haven’t you called your uncle and reported this guy?”

  I switch my phone from hands-free to my earbuds and exit my car. Slowly, I make my way up to the door of my place.

  “Other than the ‘thinking of you’ emails and the flower deliveries, what’s he done wrong? Do I report him for being sweet?”

  “Well, you were right to stop engaging with him,” Kelly reassures. “At least if your uncle is aware, you can have it on the books if anything else comes of it. And maybe they can trace the emails and pay the guy a visit.”

  “You watch too many cop shows,” I accuse, placing the phone between my ear and shoulder so I can unlock my door. “I don’t think that’s a thing.”

  “Oh, it’s a thing. Cyber policing is totally the new forensic science.”

  Once I cross the threshold of my small apartment, I can tell something is strange. Mainly, it’s the overwhelming scent of lemons and bleach that tips me off. When I turn on the light, my apartment practically gleams, and my laundry is washed and folded neatly in the basket on my couch.

  “Uh… Kelly, did you come over and clean my apartment?”

  “Right. Like I don’t have a job. And even if I didn’t work, girl, I love you, but not that much.”

  I look around, astounded at the amount of sparkle I’ve never had the patience or desire to achieve. “Well, someone did.”

  “Your mom?”

  “She’s in San Diego until Thursday visiting her sister.”

  I walk to the kitchen and see a typed note left on the counter. I start to pick it up but for some reason, I think better of it.

  I know you’ve been working a lot these last few weeks, so I thought I’d do something nice for you. Take it easy on your weekend off. Love, your mystery admirer.

  My heart feels like it squeezes in my chest, and it becomes hard to breathe. “Shit, Kel,” I wheeze, “it’s him.”

  “It’s who?”

  “Th, the… there’s a note…” I gasp, trying to replace all the oxygen I’m losing. “It’s signed… mystery admirer.”

  “Girl, I’m on my way. Get out of there and start walking toward me. And call your uncle. Now.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Uncle Danny sits next to me on my couch. He’s a lieutenant in the LAPD, but I’ve never actually seen him in an official capacity. He’s mom’s baby brother, only ten years older than I am, so he’s always been the “cool uncle.”

  Uniformed officers are scouring my apartment, doing some evidence collection, mostly taking fingerprints.

  “You should have told me about this sooner, Dink,” he scolds, but it loses some of its intimidation factor when he uses my family’s nickname for me.

  “Like I told Kelly,” I nod to her, “it was innocent up until now. He never threatened me, just annoyed the heck out of me.”

  “Did you save any of the emails?”

  Blushing, I nod. “Only one.” I bite my lips together, kind of embarrassed to admit it. “He wrote me a poem.”

  “Only you would keep your stalker’s poem.” Uncle Dan rolls his eyes and sighs. “Do you have it here?”

  I shake my head. “No, I threw it away after I found out he wasn’t who I thought he was.”

  He runs his hand through his hair. “Dammit, Dink –”

  “It’s not like he’s much of a stalker. In fact, he kind of sucks at it. Who breaks and enters an apartment to clean? And hell, he even locked the door after he was done. He didn’t even boil any rodents on my stove or leave me bloody entrails trying to summon demons to snatch my soul or anything.”

  My uncle smirks. “You almost sound upset about that.”

  “No, but I’m pissed. I feel violated and creeped out, sure. He broke in to my place and obviously tou
ched my stuff. But the real kicker is that he cleaned better than I ever have. He even took the stove apart and got up all the dried up burnt cheese from my failed attempt at Macaroni Monday.”

  He lays a hand on my arm. “I hate to ask this, but do you know if anything’s missing?”

  “Sorry, Uncle Danny, I haven’t looked. I was kinda busy freaking out and fleeing for my life.”

  Nodding, he asks, “Do you want me to help you look?”

  I straight up feel panic rise in my chest. No, I don’t want my uncle helping me count my underwear or seeing my not-so-extensive collection of vibrators, much less the giant penis pillow Kelly got me as a joke after my divorce. So embarrassing. It must show on my face, so he turns to Kelly.

  “Do you mind going through the apartment with her to see if he took anything? I don’t think she should do it alone.”

  That’s a better idea, although I’m not completely sure if I want Kelly seeing my collection either, but at least I know she won’t judge me. Well, I’m fairly certain she won’t. She knows about the penis pillow because yeah, she gave it to me, but she might not be aware that I snuggle up to it every night. Eh, whatever. As long as she doesn’t see The Black Beast.

  Oh holy shit, did my stalker see The Black Beast?

  The Black Beast is a fourteen speed, turbo-jet-fueled, primo monster of a vibe, complete with clitoral suction and rotating head. Unlike my ex-husband, it has never failed to get me off. I bought it online during our separation but was intimidated after it was delivered. It took me a full month to even unbox the thing. After almost passing out during my first orgasm with it, I was unable to move for a good hour. Since then, I haven’t gone a week without using it. If I tried for more than once a week, I fear I wouldn’t survive. They’d find my body clutching my Beast with that death-from-orgasm look on my face.

  I used it last night, and after cleaning it, which I always make sure to do right away, I just shoved it under my pillow.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I bet the creep washed my sheets.

  Fuck.

  I want to run into my bedroom to check, but I don’t want to raise suspicion. At this point, I’m sure I’ll look like a crazy woman diving on my bed and searching under my pillows, only to hold it up like a beacon, brandishing the Black Beast for all the world to see, thanking God and all the saints for protecting my weapon of mass orgasmic bliss.

  Kelly stands, and I rise carefully, trying not to seem too eager. She follows on my heels, probably sensing my internal freak out.

  “Girl,” she whispers. “What’s your deal?”

  I round the corner into my bedroom to see that my bed has, in fact, been made, penis pillow proudly poking upward in the center of my bed. I think he even fluffed it.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, and do what I feared I would – I dive on the bed, knocking off the fluffy pecker, and feel around, coming up empty handed. I look in the nightstand and see the bullet vibe I keep on standby and the ho-hum dildo I haven’t used since I received Beast are untouched, thank God, but the Beast…

  “It’s gone, Kel.”

  “What is?”

  I ring my hands. “My…well…”

  “Ah, I’m guessing by the way you’re stammering and blushing, adult toy?”

  “Not just any adult toy, Kelly.” I lean in and lower my voice. “My Black Beast.”

  “Oh my God, you have one, too? Don’t you love that thing? I had Justin use it on me just this morn–”

  “Kelly!” I snap. “This is so, so bad.”

  “Do you think the creep stole it?”

  Fuck. To think I was just worried about him seeing it. I never dreamed he’d steal it.

  “Well, now I do.”

  Gross. What the hell would he want with my vibrator? I don’t even want to know what he’s doing with it. I shudder in revulsion at the thought of the things it’s probably doing now.

  RIP, Black Beast. I’ll miss you.

  “We need to tell your uncle.”

  “What?” I screech. Lowering my voice, I shake my head. “No way. I’m not even admitting that I own one of those things, much less tell him that my stalker probably stole it, especially not to my favorite loving uncle who probably changed my diapers. No way.”

  “He was ten when you were born, and he’s a boy. Chances are he never changed your diaper.”

  “Okay, but still, I can’t tell him.”

  “Jesus, Ember,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You need to own your sexuality.”

  “I totally own it, I just don’t want to share it with my mother’s baby brother.”

  She blinks at me. “Good point. And it’s not like you’ll want it back anyway.”

  “Nope. We’ll chalk it up to a complete loss.”

  “We need to look through your underwear drawer to see if any of those are missing.”

  “Dude, who has an inventory, much less an exact count of their underwear?” I open a drawer to peek inside, but it’s too full as always and seems undisturbed.

  “I do. They’re organized by cut, color, style, and time of the month to wear them.” She opens my closet, and turns to look at me. “Wait, that’s not weird, is it?”

  “Yeah, but I embrace your weird.” I paw through another drawer, which also seems untouched. “God, Kelly, how am I supposed to stay in this apartment?” I fall back on my bed with my hands beside me. “I mean, what if he planted a listening device or, oh my God, cameras?”

  “Then I’d say it’s a good thing that he took the Beast or else he’d get quite a show.”

  I feel myself give her that same narrowed-eye scowl I’ve received many times. “That’s not funny.”

  “You would have thought it was funny if you said it.”

  I can’t argue there. It is exactly something I would have said. Touché, Kelly. Maybe now, I can understand why I get the glary stares when I make an inappropriate joke during an inopportune moment. Just because I get it doesn’t mean I’ll stop, though.

  Kelly moves to sit beside me and puts her arm around me. “I can stay here with you, or you can come to my place.”

  “Last time I slept on your couch, your dog wouldn’t stop licking my toes, and Justin forgot I was there and sat on my head when he couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night. And either he or Meatloaf farted. Neither confessed, so I’m not sure who it was.”

  “Both can clear a room. And Meatloaf loves toes, and yeah, come to think of it, Justin’s reflux is acting up again. He was up last night, too.” She sighs. “Well, I’m sure your Uncle Dan will let you crash with him, or I can see if the hotel has a room for the night.”

  Kelly is the assistant manager of the Pelican Beach Suites in Malibu. It’s a perfect choice since it’s close to the hospital.

  “Can you call the hotel? If there’s no room, I’ll ask Dan.”

  “Sure, Embie.”

  I grunt and get off the bed in search of my uncle. I see him with a uniformed guy, going over something with their heads together. Once he notices me, he waves me over.

  “There’s no hit on fingerprints, Ember.”

  “Well, I guess it’s good to know I have an upstanding stalker.”

  The uniformed guy chokes out a laugh, but one look from my uncle and he covers.

  “Did you find anything missing?”

  I shake my head. “No, not that I can tell.” I’m beyond crossing my fingers behind my back when I lie to a family member since it seems to be my norm.

  “I want you to consider calling a friend of mine. He runs a security company that can run a sweep through the apartment for any electronic bugs or cameras.”

  I blink at him. “Wait…Your department can’t do that?”

  “Not to the degree Reed Security can. Plus, they can provide a bodyguard for you.”

  “I can’t afford –”

  He holds up his hand, digging his phone out of his pocket, and begins typing out a text. “The owner owes me for a series of huge favors, and I can�
�t think of a better way to collect.” I’m amazed at his ability to talk to me and text at the same time. “Plus, his PI is amazing at finding out information and can do things that we can’t legally do.” He looks up at me. “This will be low priority for a police department of our size, Ember. And we can’t do much without ID-ing the suspect.”

  I nod, really liking the idea that I might feel safe again. The muscles in my shoulders relax, and my airway becomes less constrict-y. “If he can’t meet us tonight, can we can set up a meeting tomorrow after work?”

  His brows furrow at his phone. “Yeah, that’s when it has to be, Dink. He says he won’t be in town until morning.”

  “Ember,” Kelly says from the doorway. “You have a small suite through the weekend.”

  A small suite is a one bedroom with a living room and a small kitchenette, all the comforts of home. At least I have a safe place to stay and some security services coming my way. What else can a stalked girl ask for?

  Eight

  Dugger

  “Relax. You’re ready for this, Douglass,” Noah assures, clapping me on the shoulder. “When I talked about a bodyguard, it seemed to ease her tension, so I think she will be happy you’re here.”

  I take a deep breath and sit on the edge of the couch in this suite’s small living room, about to meet with the woman who will be my first client. After months of training, during which I got my ass repeatedly handed to me by a brand new mom and received tons of on-the-job pointers from a former drill sergeant, I know Noah’s right; I am ready. However, this is my first solo assignment, and I might be slightly nervous.

  Just a little.

  Sure my palms are sweating. I’ve almost tripped twice, once coming into the suite and the other time on the table that came out of nowhere. I can’t seem to speak actual words because my tongue feels like it’s six times its size, and my brain keeps conjuring images of me fucking this up royally, but I’m still going with just a little nervous.

  God, I’m a fucking grown ass man. I’ve never freaked out about anything, so why start now?