With a trembling hand, Callie passed the note to her supervisor at the dispatch center. God, she hoped doing so wouldn’t open a Pandora’s box of problems. A 911 dispatcher had to be calm, focused, and dedicated one hundred percent focused on the job when on shift. Every hour, every minute, and every second. The idea that one of the trainee dispatchers might have a stalker wouldn’t sit well with her supervisor.

Not that anyone would blame her, to her face at least. But she didn’t want to give her boss any excuse to claim she was distracted. Exhaustion seemed to be part of life these days, and she knew people noticed. She eyed Lieutenant Laura Deaver, watching for any indication that it was going to be bad news. She needed this job, now more than ever. She clasped her hands tightly together in her lap as she waited for a response.

So why was she even doing this? Grady would be coming around that night, but she couldn’t let him take everything on himself. He’d insist on protecting her, that was a given, not just because of David, but for himself, too. Grady still felt guilt over David’s death. Why, she didn’t know, but it was obvious the instant she’d laid eyes on him something had happened over there to make Grady feel like he’d failed his best friend in the worst way possible, and now that guilt and obligated had passed to her. Grady didn’t deserve that—the guilt or the responsibility. He had enough of his own to deal with. Besides, as much as she hated herself for the judgment, sometimes the guys he hung around with made her a little uncomfortable. Her grasp on her own hand tightened in her lap. That was totally on her.

She’d never even met them in person, and this job had taught her you were an idiot if you judged people purely on appearance and rumors. Some of the most respectable and trustworthy citizens committed the most heinous of crimes. Of course, there were thousands of motorcycle clubs scattered throughout the country too. The majority of them weren’t involved with criminal activity. They just got together because they enjoyed riding. Or because no one else wanted them. Then again, she was pretty sure that the club Grady belonged to wasn’t one of those-Sunday-road-travel kind of groups. These weren’t dads and motorcycle enthusiasts who got out once a week or more often when weather permitted.

Grady’s club, the Steel Kings, had a reputation among the denizens of Western Oklahoma City. She didn’t know what they were involved in, but if they were like most of the motorcycle clubs out here, barring the Mexican ones, they likely dealt in drugs, perhaps a few weapons, or maybe they stuck to car thefts and chop shops. Those were the rumors anyway, but when it came down to it, she really didn’t know. She’d never asked Grady and didn’t want to. Why hadn’t she? The answer was in her mind before the thought had even passed. She didn’t care. As much as she thought she should, as a law-abiding citizen—whatever that meant—she just couldn’t think of Grady as bad, as evil.

Despite what he thought about himself, Grady wouldn’t hurt an innocent. True, he wasn’t a saint, but the last few years had taught her life rarely turned out exactly as you’d planned. Flaws and all, he was worth the effort. Plus, his presence brought her comfort. Even if he went back to passing by on his bike only, never coming inside, after she’d practically thrown herself at him the week before. She still wanted that. To think of him watching over her made her feel safe.

It had been such a struggle to get her life back—if not on track after David’s death—at least to a modicum of endurable. She struggled on a daily basis to find some type of equilibrium, some type of balance that would help her get through the day. Maybe she should be on some sort of antidepressant, Prozac maybe, but she hadn’t wanted to go in that direction. The antianxiety meds she took on occasion were enough to calm her down. Some days, she woke up feeling hopeful that today would be a better day than yesterday. Other days, it was a struggle just to get out of bed.

She had to improve. As much as she hoped she hadn’t scared Grady away entirely, Callie was pretty sure the moment the matter of her stalker was resolved, Grady would go back to passing by her house occasionally. Whatever had happened between them had been out of fear on her behalf, and likely guilt for both of them. Once any threat was resolved, Grady would no longer have a reason to hang around. She had to deal with David’s death alone, and somehow try to move beyond it. Her heart ached every day, and probably always would, but he wasn’t coming back. The thought of living decades longer like this depressed her to no end. And this thing with Grady . . . sleeping with him. While the sex had been absolutely incredible, she wasn’t sure if she could ever overcome her guilt. Grady was David’s best friend. How could she fall in love with him?

Fuck. She’d fallen in love. Fallen for someone who was completely and utterly as broken as she was.

What bothered her most, what taunted her in her dreams, was the fear that in David’s last moment, she hadn’t been there. It was ridiculous, of course. He’d been in the middle of a war zone. That didn’t stop her waking in the middle of the night, body drenched in sweat and shaking from yet another nightmare. With precious little detail—pretty much none, in fact—ever officially released, she was left to imagine in her dreams how he’d died, in her dreams, night after night. He’d been standing alone in the moment the IED had exploded, she knew that much. What had he thought in those precious few seconds? Had he been scared? Had he even known what had happened? Had he thought of her that very moment when he knew he was going to die? She hadn’t been able to tell him goodbye, and though she told him that she loved him every time they managed a phone call or a video chat, it seemed . . . inadequate. Totally—

“Callie?”

She glanced up at the lieutenant. Damn. What had her superior just asked her? She sighed and shook her head.

“Let me understand this,” the lieutenant said, leaning back in her chair behind her desk crammed into a tiny office barely large enough for that piece of furniture, two chairs, and a small filing cabinet on top of which teetered a precarious pile of paperwork. “You’re not sure when the note and the flower arrived at your house?”

Yet another reason why Callie hadn’t wanted to report the previous incidents. The necessity of having to repeat herself over and over again. “All I know it wasn’t there in the morning when I went to work at the long-term care center. When I got home, the note and the flower were lying on top of my mail. My mailman usually comes between one o’clock and two o’clock in the afternoon. I got home late, so I would assume any time between two o’clock and when I got home from work at around ten-thirty that night.”

“And this had been going on how long?”

“A few months,” she shrugged lamely. “Maybe a little longer.”

“And that phone call? What was that message?” She waited, pen poised above a notepad.

“The message was, ‘I’m thinking of you.’”

“And you have no idea who it is?”

Did she? Had the call been from Captain Andrews or could it be Grady? No, Grady wouldn’t call her at work, nor would he play games like that . . . but who else could it be? She’d tried to discourage the captain, and thought she’d been successful. He hadn’t called again since then, and he’d identified himself, too. Besides, he was ten years older than she was, at least. Probably married with kids. Maybe looking for a fling. She wasn’t interested. She offered a slight shrug of her shoulders. “I really have no idea.”

“You haven’t seen anyone lurking around your house, around the parking lot at the long-term care center when you come and go, or even here?”

She started to shake her head but paused. “I . . . I thought someone was following me home after work last night. A boxy type, dark SUV, and no, I didn’t get a look at the license plates, but I was mistaken. I turned off on my street and the SUV kept going. I thought . . . I thought if it happened again, I’d make a report.”

The lieutenant stared at her for several moments, then offered a short nod. “There’s not enough here to even open an investigative file, nor even consider a restraining order. Until we know who this is, I’m afraid there’s not much we can do. Be vigilant, keep a pen and notepad in your car to write down license plates, and . . . well, you know the drill.”

Callie did. She hadn’t expected much, but she did want to get the report filed. She wanted to be able to tell Grady when she saw him next that she had notified her superiors, that they were aware of it, and that she had some semblance of protection. Maybe that would be enough to take the guilt of her protection off his shoulders.

But then she wouldn’t see him again. She squared her shoulders. It was for the best. She couldn’t take over his entire life out of nothing more than a sense of obligation to his dead best friend. Grady needed to get on with his life, and she needed to learn how to live hers, even if that meant being without either of the men she loved.

The lieutenant stood and so did Callie. “Thank you for your time, Lieutenant Deaver. I just thought it would be best to at least make a notification. And I want to assure you that this won’t affect my work in any way.”

“I’m afraid it already has.”

Callie froze. “Excuse me?”

“You came to my office to file a report, no? That means you feel it’s serious enough to at least make the incidents known to us. I appreciate your candor, but I must also tell you that if I feel that you’re distracted or disturbed in any way about this or that these incidents affect your abilities as a dispatcher, we’ll be talking again.”

Callie nodded. “I understand, Lieutenant. Thank you.”

She turned and left the lieutenant’s office, but the moment she closed the door behind her, she glanced down at the floor, shaking her head. Crap. Maybe that hadn’t been such a smart move after all. Well, nothing she could do about it right now. Her shift was over at the police station, and Grady said he would be coming over later. She wasn’t sure exactly how she felt about that. She was always glad to see Grady, no doubt about that, but since the change in their relationship, the sex, she didn’t know what to feel. Was it possible he was interested in a relationship? It was far more likely that he viewed it as nothing more than a massive mistake. She frowned, surprised at how much the idea hurt. She didn’t want Grady to think of anything they did together as a mistake. She’d always liked him, always felt an affinity with him, but she’d chosen David, the safe option at the time. Life with him had been good, wonderful even, but there was something about Grady, something wild and untamed, that called her, tugged at her heart, even though she knew the feelings could never be returned.

But he’d changed, too, and she wasn’t sure how to deal with that change. After he’d come back from that last tour, after he’d joined the motorcycle club, he’d been much a stranger. Until recently. Until the past few months, when she begun to notice his motorcycle down the street, to the point where she now recognized its rumble and had grown accustomed to his just sitting down there, watching. She wasn’t sure what prompted it, and while she felt comforted by his presence, it had creeped her out just a little that he rarely approached. Again, until recently. And then look what happened.

Had Grady always had feelings for her? Sexual feelings? He had always treated her with the utmost respect. Never a wink, never once had she caught him leering at her, the heat of desire in his eyes. He had either hidden it very well or those feelings had burgeoned after David’s death. Maybe he’d kept them hidden out of respect for his friend. Now what? Would they move forward? To what? She had enough stress holding down two jobs. The thought of starting everything over again, especially with Grady’s PTSD, seemed almost overwhelming. And yet, maybe he needed her. Maybe this was Grady’s way of reaching out, not verbally asking for help, but subconsciously. How could she turn her back on him? He’d always been there for her, especially after David died. Grady had been her pillar of strength, her Rock of Gibraltar, albeit a silent one. She knew he was dealing with his own demons and didn’t have to take on hers. And yet, he had.

Did she want a relationship with Grady? How would that even happen? How would she fit into his life now? Grady wasn’t the type to work a nine-to-five and have barbeques with the neighbors on Sundays. Perhaps he’d never been. She just had to open her eyes and see him for the man he was.

She went to the locker room, opened her locker, and withdrew her purse and sweater. An image flew into her mind, and Callie almost snorted. She could just picture herself riding on the back of Grady’s motorcycle, her hair flowing behind her, arms wrapped around Grady’s waist, surrounded by dozens of other bikes, club members, and their own ‘old ladies.’ What had led Grady to them? Was it merely a sense of belonging or . . . or what?

She gathered her items and left the building, her thoughts returning to the meeting. God, she hoped she hadn’t made a mistake in reporting the potential stalking to the lieutenant. It was a bell that couldn’t be unrung. She didn’t know what she’d do if it jeopardized her position as a police dispatcher. She needed this job, if not for the money then for her sanity. This job, like her job at the long-term care center, kept her focused on others rather than herself. Introspection, as far as she was concerned, was not a good place for her to venture these days. Maybe someday, but not now.

She walked to her car, the late afternoon sun bearing down on her as she walked, key in hand, clutching her purse in one hand, the sweater draped over her forearm. Her eyes continually scanned the parking lot as she neared her car. She was always cautious, always aware of her surroundings, but lately, it had felt like every time she ventured out in public, someone was watching her. But who was that someone?

She sighed as she reached her car, glanced through the windows to make sure nobody was hiding on the floor, and then opened her car door and climbed inside, locking the door and once again checking the mirrors. She inserted the key in the ignition and shifted, one more thing to get through today. At home. Grady was coming. Despite her concerns, despite her worries, she couldn’t help the traitorous leap of excitement from her heart. She tightly gripped the steering wheel, a tremulous smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Guilt. Excitement. Anticipation. Guilt. Excitement. Anticipation . . .