But her heart wasn’t much listening to reason, and it didn’t help when he stood up and braced a knee next to her on the bed, cupping her face in his hand. “Is it going to scare you away if I tell you I’m already fixating on the fifth date? The tenth?”
“Ahhh...” She stared at him, blinking. Fifth...tenth?
He stroked his thumb over her lip. “Is that a yes? Do I need to slow it down?”
“I don’t know.” She leaned away long enough to set her coffee down, then she wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling her head against him. “Part of me is thinking I’m already rushing it. The other part of me feels like...hell. I feel like I’ve been missing this for a long time.”
They stood that way for a long, long while, his hand stroking her hand, her face pressed to his belly. Then she sighed. “Maybe we’re rushing it a little. We can rush it for as long as it feels right. If we need to pull back, then I guess we’ll know.”
“No news, I take it?”
Five days had passed with no new incidents...and no answers.
Clayton stood with Rocki in her shop, looking terribly uncomfortable and terribly out of place, especially with his sister standing a few feet away and holding up a new, modified corset that Rocki was putting out for the spring line.
With his face a brilliant shade of red, he deliberately turned his back on Lacey and said, “No. No news. There weren’t any prints on the box that we can link to Dwayne. Nobody reports seeing anybody fitting his description in the area. For the past five years, he’s lived in Seiverville—quite a ways from here.”
A ways, but still drivable
, she thought. She’d rather just
know
one way or the other if it had been her ex who’d left the destroyed flowers, who’d sent the pictures.
“You haven’t gotten any new deliveries? No new cards?”
“No, Clayton.” She sighed and pushed her hair back.
He stared at her, a familiar look on his square face. Seconds ticked by and he didn’t blink.
“Damn it, you moron.” Irritated by the staring contest, Rocki shoved off the counter. “I said I’d tell you if anything happened and I meant it. There haven’t been any cards, any deliveries, not anything.”
He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Sorry. It’s just...” His voice trailed off.
But the look in his eyes said everything. Rocki turned away, pressed a hand to her belly. “Clayton, I’m not ignoring this. I know how serious it is.”
“Do you?”
She looked back over her shoulder, trying to ignore the ache in her chest at the look in his eyes. But she couldn’t ignore the fear that lived inside her, couldn’t ignore the nerves or the anxiety. “Yes. I do.”
“But—”
Lacey came up to stand between them, and Rocki could see the indecision on her face. She wanted to side with both of them—her brother and his fear for Rocki, and Rocki, as well, because Rocki damn well knew Lacey likely wouldn’t have handled things much differently.
Lacey laid a hand on Clayton’s arm and said, “Ease up, bub. She’s being careful, okay?”
“Careful isn’t always enough.” Clayton shook his head. “Rocki—”
“No.” She held up a hand, cutting him off. “I don’t want to hear this. You think I don’t realize how badly I screwed up back then? I
do
, I get it. I screwed up then when I didn’t report him. It won’t happen again.”
“You sure about that?”
“Damn it, Clayton,” Lacey snapped. “
Enough
.”
“No.” Rocki shook her head, barely sparing Lacey a look. “This is between us now, Lacey. I appreciate the concern, but I can handle it.” Setting her jaw, she focused on Clayton, barely resisting the urge to throw something. At his head—that thick, rock-hard skull. “You think I don’t realize how serious this is.”
“I’m pretty damn certain you
don’t
.”
“And I’m pretty damn certain I
do
.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared at him.
“Then why didn’t you call when things first started getting weird?”
Rocki shoved both hands into her hair and tugged, a strangled scream escaping her. “Damn it, Clayton, you’re being an asshole, you know that? I got some fucking cards. Unsigned, with pictures of me. That was
it
. There was nothing written on them, nothing said. If I’d done anything
then
, a report would have been filed...and if it had been a cop who didn’t know me taking the report? I would have been brushed off and you damn well know it. As soon as I had something sort of concrete, I
called
.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Clayton mumbled under his breath.
“What?”
Lowering his hand, he glared at her. “Part of me is pissed off knowing that you may be right.”
“I
know
I am.”
“The other part is thinking that you’re a cop’s wife...” He paused, cleared his throat. “You
were
a cop’s wife. You know what to say, when to say, how to say it to make them take you seriously, Rock. And damn it, you could have just found out when I was on shift. You know I’m always there when you need me.”
“I do know that. And when I
did
need help, you were the one I called,” she said, her voice gentle. Sighing, she made herself think past the anger, the fear, the nerves. This was Clayton, her friend for so many years. She’d known him for as long as she’d known Lacey. He’d always been there for her. She knew he worried. “Clay, try to understand...I was doing what I thought was right—trying to be careful without jumping to conclusions.”
He looked down, staring at the battered little leather notebook he carried in his jacket pocket. But she suspected he wasn’t paying any attention to the notes he’d made. His shoulders rose and fell on a sigh and then he looked up, his gaze locking with hers. “I know that, Rock. I just worry. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I don’t want to see me hurt, either.” She forced herself to smile. “Hurt, bad. I get that.”
He skimmed a hand back through his hair. “Lady, I hope you do. Okay, then. So you’ll call if you need me, right? No matter how small a thing it seems?”
“Absolutely.” And she meant it. She was
not
going to be a victim again. It wasn’t going to happen.
“Alright. I don’t like this, not any of it. But alright.” He blew out a breath. A forced smile came and went on his face. “So. You still seeing that lawyer or did you at least wise up on that level?”
Until then, Lacey had kept quiet, but now she groaned and said, “Damn it, Clayton, leave her love life out of it.” She made a face at Rocki. “I think he’s still hung up on you and having issues. Just ignore him.”
Rocki tensed, the idea making her ridiculously uncomfortable. From the corner of her eye, she saw a red flush creeping up Clayton’s neck, across his face. His voice was easy enough as he said, “Oh, I’ve got all sorts of issues. My kid sister’s best friend is dating a lawyer—that would give anybody a complex.”
“Yeah, I’m still seeing the lawyer.” Absently, she toyed with her hair. She’d woven it into two long braids today. Unaware of the smile on her face, she stared out the window. “We’re going out tomorrow night.”
Third date
. She could definitely have sex with him on their third date, she thought. His place? Hers? She didn’t know, didn’t care.
“Man. I gotta get out of here,” Clayton said, his voice brusque. “I can’t stand to see you standing there with that smile on your face...over a
lawyer
.”
As he left, Lacey shot Rocki a look, and they both started to laugh.
“I’d like to see you tonight.”
Gripping the phone in one hand, Rocki pressed her other hand to her belly.
Slow it down …just a little.
But out loud, she simply replied, “Tomorrow will be here before you know it. What happened to whatever thing you had going on tonight?”
“Fell apart.” Cole sighed. “I was supposed to be out of town, work stuff. Didn’t happen.”
“Ahhh.” She finished shutting down the computer and then stood up, began making a circuit around the shop. It had been a slow day. Usually things got slower after Valentine’s Day, then picked back up again sometime in March when people starting getting a lot more serious about weddings and stuff. She was used to it mostly, but slow days were still tedious.
“‘
Ahhh
’...what does that mean, exactly?”
“Just that.” She smiled as she paused by a table and straightened up the display there. Rocki was honest enough with herself to admit that she was tempted to tell Cole he could come over, but she was still a little leery. Two dates. And one wild night of sex.
And she was restless. Edgy. Plus, irritated as hell, still, from the discussion with Clayton earlier. Not exactly ideal company, really. And damn it, if he
wanted
to see her, couldn’t he just
ask
?
Well, he sort of did
, a calm, rational voice pointed out. Rocki brushed it off. That hadn’t been
asking
. He’d just been mentioning it. He hadn’t
asked
.
“So, tomorrow, right? Six?” She needed to get off the phone now before she started clueing him in on her psycho mood swings.
“Six.” He hesitated, almost like he wanted to say something else. But then he sighed. “You have a good night, Rocki. Think about me.”
“Hmmm. I do that all too often, handsome.” Then she lowered the phone and disconnected, staring off into nothing.
If she’d wanted you to come over, she would have asked
, he thought.
Cole figured he needed to turn around. Go back home. Spend the night alone.
But he didn’t.
He made a couple of stops. The liquor store for a bottle of wine. A small boutique that was open later than some, selling chocolate and flowers. She hadn’t had much of a Valentine’s Day, right? He could make up for that. And see her.
He just wanted to see her. No. Needed to.
And even if it was just for a few minutes, it was better than nothing.
Rocki finished up in the store twenty-five minutes later. Brooding and wishing she’d maybe asked Cole to meet her, she locked up and started toward her car.
It was cold, the bite of winter still heavy in the air, despite the fact that it was almost near the end of February. The corset she wore managed to keep her warmer than one would think, and the camisole she wore under it rose high enough to keep her chest from being too cold. She’d always been terribly lazy with coats. She had one on now, but as always, she hadn’t bothered to button it and she was
cold
.
As she hurried toward her car, the low, thick heels of her motorcycle boots thudding heavily on the ground, she muttered, “Spring. I want
spring
.”
Warm sun.
Longer days.
Fewer shadows—
Suddenly, one of the shadows shifted.
Rocki jerked her head up as a man emerged from them. Her breath caught in her chest, lodged there.
In the past ten years, Dwayne Carpenter’s solid body hadn’t softened much. He’d played football in college and a lot of that bulk was still there. He looked…older, though. Older. Meaner. As he lifted a hand to stroke his jaw, she suppressed a shiver, remembering just how much pain those big hands had been capable of causing.
He had very cold, very cruel eyes—she hadn’t seen that back all those years ago. At least not right away. But it was unmistakable now. She went still, staring at him. With one hand in her pocket, she gripped her phone and wondered if she could call
9-1-1
without him noticing.
“Hello, Roxanne.” That voice—fuck. Lower than it used to be, raspier. Harsher. That voice was distinctive, and she knew she’d heard it before…and recently. The night of the auction. Son of a
bitch
. It had been him there that night, the other one bidding on her.
“Dwayne.”
He took a step toward her. Her first instinct was to step back, but she didn’t. She held her ground, watching him, as he closed the distance even more. “You look as beautiful as ever.”
She didn’t respond. What was the point?
“Nothing to say?”
“And why should I say anything?” Rocki lifted a brow. “You want me to say
thanks
to the man who tried to rape me eleven years ago?”
Somebody ugly and cold flashed through his eyes. But he smiled. “Perhaps you should be saying ‘thank you’ to the man who never stopped loving you. Never stopped thinking about you. I saw you at the auction—you looked lovely, but you shouldn’t parade around like that. It’s…not acceptable.”
Acceptable
? She curled her lip at him.
He was closer now and he lifted a hand. But before he could touch her, Rocki used her left arm to block him, putting enough force behind it that it sent a jolt clear up her arm. “Don’t touch me,” she warned.
“Bitch.” A snarl twisted his face. “Don’t you fucking know what I do when you piss me off? And your cop’s not around anymore...yeah, I heard about that. He can’t protect you now.”
Rocki smiled. “I don’t need a man protecting me, Dwayne.” She shifted, set her feet, absently saying a prayer of gratitude that she’d put on a different kind of shoes today. Normally, she would have worn something with high heels. But today, she’d pulled on a pair of Harley Davidson boots—flat and heavy with solid, sturdy soles. She could move just fine, without worrying about breaking an ankle.
Hate and possessiveness burned in Dwayne’s eyes. “Don’t you? You hid behind him for years. Fucking cunt. Can’t do it now, though—I finally heard he got what was coming to him, that fucker. Rotting in his grave and you can’t hide behind him.”
“I didn’t hide behind him. I married him.” Slipping a hand into her coat pocket, she said, “You need to leave now. Just get the hell away and stay away. I’ve already called the cops about the cards and the flowers. The investigating officer is already looking for
you
.”
“Is he?” Dwayne laughed. “That’s funny, because I’m not
here
tonight—I got a friend who will swear I was working on a car with him.”