Colt

 

Once more, I find myself knocking on Bryce’s apartment door. I’d needed to get out of the house after Quinn had left my room. I’ve been trying to get the sex out of my mind, but nothing’s working. I can’t stop thinking of her, and the only thing that can get my mind off how good she’d felt in my arms is her current predicament.

When I’d come back from buying Quinn new tires, Bryce had already been gone. I’d planned to reach out to him anyway so that we could talk in private, so here I am.

Bryce opens the door, not looking the least bit surprised to see me. “I figured you’d be dropping by. Come on in.”

I enter the apartment and see that the TV in the living room is turned to a local news channel.

“Beer?” Bryce asks.

“Sure.”

A minute later, we’re sitting in the living room, both of us holding bottles of beer. Bryce leans over and picks up the remote off the coffee table, and he mutes the TV before turning to look at me. “She reported the incident, but she’s also dragging her feet.”

Bryce quirks a brow. “I can name someone who tops her.”

His words cause an image of earlier to pop up in my head of Quinn beneath me, her legs wrapped around my hips as I pumped in and out of her. I quickly shove aside the memory.

“That’s what he wants. He wants her scared and yet secure with the knowledge that he’s not physically coming after her.”

“What do you think that means?”

“This guy’s smart,” he says. “Everything he does has a reason. He wants to play his game and draw out the anticipation. If he comes for her—which is a possibility—she’s not going to see it coming. My job is to try to anticipate his next move, but she’s making that difficult by baiting him,” he states in a dry tone.

I shake my head with exasperation. “It’s impossible to curb her natural recklessness.”

“I’m aware, and I already discussed it with her.”

“Think you got anywhere with her?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Doubt it.”

I sigh and reach for the beer I’d set down. I’m definitely in need of one of these, and I take a long drink before asking, “What do you think his next move will be?”

“Good question, and I’m not sure,” he says honestly.

“What’s your gut telling you?” I press.

“He’s done with the photos. He trashed her car this morning, so he’s beginning to move closer to her. Everything points to him confronting her. Whether to frighten her or physically harm, I’m not certain. We don’t really know anything about this guy. There’s no priors to base a profile on.”

“It’s likely he’s done this before, right?”

“I’m thinking so, yes. But we don’t have a name to enter into the system, so there’s no way to look into past cases.”

“What about blood fetish cases?”

“That’s a long shot, Colt.”

I give him a look. “How many cases do you think there are of women receiving notes written in blood?”

“Probably more than you’d think.”

I look at him with frustration. “At least it’s something to go on.”

“True. I’ll look into Colt, but I can’t promise anything will come of it.”

I nod. “In the meantime, what can I do to help protect her?”

“He got to her vehicle, so I would suggest someone walk her out to it every morning—making certain that everything is as it should be.”

“What about parking her car in the garage?”

Bryce shakes his head. “No, don’t do that. If he’s going to vandalize anything, better it be her car than him trying to get inside. If you take away his means to contact her—to leave his mark—he’ll find other ways. Trust me, we don’t want him looking for other options, because that could turn deadly.”

I scrub a hand over my face. “Shit. Okay.”

“I’ll keep looking into things from my end. I’m ass deep into cases, but I’ll make time for Quinn’s situation.”

“When does this become a big enough problem that she’s assigned an investigator? Someone who’s actively working to figure this shit out?” I ask broodingly. It’s one of the things that bothers me the most about all this. Bryce is the only one actively searching for this guy, and that’s because he knows Quinn.

“When he tries to or succeeds in hurting her. Colt, I’m going to do everything I can to prevent that from happening.”

We talk for another half hour before I take off and head home. I’d planned on going out tonight to hit a few bars, but after earlier with Quinn, I have no urge to sink my dick into some random woman.

I slow for a stoplight, and my chest tightens as I recall our conversation before she’d left my room. She has so much faith in me, and it’s making me miserable trying to keep her at a distance. I’ve always felt drawn to her, but these days, it’s so much worse.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel.

How the hell do we move on after having sex? I feel like I’m hurtling towards certain disaster, and yet as much as I want to deny it, it feels damned good.