Chapter Twelve

Simon led Lacie by her elbow across the street to his house. The idea Simon was going to care for her well-being took root in her brain, making her feel special. But as soon as she entered, she was reminded he was a temporary fixture in her life. The furniture consisted of mismatched garage-sale finds that she was pretty sure had been rented with the house. Granted, he’d just moved in, but this was obviously a crash pad, nothing more. At least it was clean.

“You can have the bed, I’ll take the couch. I don’t have a spare bed. Sorry,” Simon said as he dropped to the sofa. “Do you need anything?”

“No. You don’t have to give me your bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” Lacie felt bad. She didn’t want to put him out in his home. Well, his own place, at least.

“It’s no big deal. You should rest. This was a long night. I’ll be fine.” He offered her a genuine smile, and since it was more than she’d gotten from him all day, she took it. Since the kiss last night, he’d been more than standoffish, making her long for his normally taciturn self. The Simon he’d been today had been damn near arctic—until her home had been attacked again.

At least he’d kept the bad guy outside. The sanctity of her space wasn’t invaded again.

Lacie walked into the room where he pointed, the layout of the house similar to her own, and found a bed covered in rich chocolate-colored bedsheets and a comforter. She silenced the guilt inside for taking his bed and decided to enjoy this. The massive king-sized piece of furniture sang to her, and as she sank into the bedding that smelled exactly like Simon’s sandalwood body wash, she hummed her approval and immediately went to sleep.

Simon didn’t even try to sleep on the lumpy sofa. He stared at the ceiling and turned over the events of the evening in his mind. When he couldn’t take that anymore, he turned his thoughts to the woman in his bed. Back and forth, his mind was driving him crazy with mystery and indecision. His body thrummed with her nearness, and every time he got close to lumbering into the bedroom to sink in the bed next to her, he’d look over at Tanya’s picture on the table across the room. Then he’d be back to the mystery.

Lacie slept well considering she’d been nearly attacked two nights in a row, on top of the past experiences. Simon didn’t know how she was doing it; he was a wreck. But he could hear her even breathing, interspersed with the occasional sigh as she shifted position.

When the sun came up over the horizon, Simon dragged himself off the couch and called Quinten to come over and search Lacie’s house. He would go himself, but he was leery of leaving her alone, even if it was just across the street. Something about her innocent naïveté spoke to his protectiveness.

Yeah, that and just her, period. He didn’t want Lacie out of his sight. If he could watch her sleep and puzzle out her mysteries, he would. But that would be creepy.

He was standing by the coffee pot when she came padding into the kitchen, and his heart skipped a beat at the way she looked. Sleep-tousled hair, lines on her face from his pillow, wrinkled t-shirt, shortie shorts—they all conspired to tug at his dick in inappropriate ways.

“Coffee?” he asked pleasantly, in spite of the sudden need slamming into him full-force.

“Yes, please.” She yawned and walked closer to him, invading his space, his senses.

Simon turned his back on her to pour a mug, adding two sugars and a dollop of cream, just like she took it at school. Keeping his back to her, he tested the waters of her resilience. “You want to run this morning?”

“Yeah, just let me get a cup in me first.”

The unwanted thought that he wanted in her took root and wouldn’t let go.

He handed her the cup and grabbed his own, sipping it slowly as he watched her over the rim. She was oblivious to his attentions, though, as she rubbed her eyes.

God, she was fucking adorable.

He stowed the thought in some alcove of his brain, determined to leave it there.

Half an hour later, they were running through the neighborhood, and Simon was dragging. The events of last night, coupled with the fact he wasn’t as young as he used to be, conspired to make this run hellish.

“How did you sleep?” He knew damn good and well she’d slept like the dead.

“Amazing. You have a wonderful bed.” More thoughts and ideas he shouldn’t be having ran through his brain.

“How do you do it?” Changing the subject, sort of, he had to get mental images of her between his sheets out of his mind. “Sleep like that after what happened to you?” Most people he knew would be up all night long after some stranger tried to break in their window.

She shrugged, still running. “Sociopathic tendencies?” Simon stopped dead in his tracks, the picture of Tanya smiling brightly at him moments before slipping a knife between his ribs flashing like a warning bell in his brain. Lacie laughed at him. “I’m kidding. I guess it’s a self-protection thing. I’ve done everything I can to stop the attacks from happening, yet they’re still going on. I just compartmentalize well, I guess.” Her voice got quieter as she ran away from him.

Simon stared at her ass while she continued running, his jaw slack at her admission. Could she be? What if it was all something she’d orchestrated as a desperate cry for attention? Lips pressed thinly together, he caught up with her.

They were on the last leg of the run, coming back up her street, when he spoke next. “How do I know it’s not you? That’s a valid idea for me to rule out. Otherwise, the M.O. doesn’t make any sense. Different men, different tactics to get you. Do you contact them on Craigslist? Tell them how to come at you? Some weird fantasy shit?”

Lacie stopped, her ragged breaths and flushed face doing nothing to hide her anger. “Are you serious right now? You think I’m capable of doing that? To myself?” Fire lit her eyes, she clenched her fists, and the rage emanated from her in waves. Her undiluted indignation was enough. He honestly didn’t need any other proof.

Simon exhaled loudly, guilt filling him. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He continued jogging, hoping she would catch up. “I’m just stuck, and I don’t like being stuck.”

But she wasn’t running with him. “I mean, if you really think I’m capable of something like this, then by all means, pack up your expensive coffee pot and get the heck away from me. I don’t need you!” She was still standing on the corner, yelling at him, fresh tears streaking down her cheeks.

Simon went back to where she stood. The closer he got, the stiffer she became. Lacie put her shoulders back and lifted her chin. He wanted to grab her, hold her, and never let her go. But he couldn’t do that. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said that out loud.”

“Oh, yeah. You should just suspect me in silence? I don’t know what to do about any of this. I’m the one who’s terrified here. But do I live my life running scared? Is that what I do? Or do I just live my life?” He reached for her, but she side-stepped him.

“It’s my job to think of all the possibilities, Lacie. Don’t be like this.” Helpless, he watched as she sprinted to her house. He followed, not knowing if it was secure or not.

Before he could make it, though, she spun around and marched up to him. “Honestly, do you really think that?” Her eyes were filled with hurt as she pushed on him, to little effect, her tiny hands against his chest. “Can you? Really? I thought you knew me, Simon. I thought we had more than just a superficial thing, as broody and sullen as you are.” Tears squeezed out the corners of her lashes, and Simon felt them with a pang in his gut that struck him dumb.

Wordlessly, he shook his head.

Quinten chose that moment to walk out of Lacie’s house, easing the awkwardness of what he was about to say.

All the wrong things.

Quinten held an armful of wires and electronics, and Simon’s gut shredded. “How many?” He’d known there were probably hidden cameras in her house. The fact her last invader seemed relatively familiar with the layout of the house, and the man in the bar calling her Yoga Girl lent itself to that. But the sheer amount of tiny wired pieces in Quinten’s arms told him he’d underestimated things.

Big mistake.

“Five.”

“What are they?”

“Wireless cameras. I’ll have to get Evan to run a trace on them to find out what they’re used for, but my guess is there’s a router somewhere that’s feeding the images straight to the internet.” Quinten shrugged. “I haven’t found that yet, but I’ll keep looking.”

Lacie had gone pale at his initial words, but the paleness took on a gray wash as she sank to her knees in her lawn. Then she threw up her cup of coffee.

“Where’s Evan?” Simon crouched down next to Lacie, rubbing her back, feeling futile. The only thing that would help her was catching the asshole doing this to her.

“He got a lead on that trafficking case that took him to Houston. It seems like they’ve switched gears and are running out of the interstate hub there, as well as the ship-channel. Not an original idea. But he seems to think there’s another player, one closer to the senator, but he hasn’t figured out who it is or what exactly he’s doing. It could be Jonas, but if it is, he’s covering his tracks.”

Good. Simon needed Jonas fucking arrested, like yesterday, for what he’d done to his sister, but he needed to find out what was going on with Lacie as well. “I need someone to search her car and phone for tracking devices and look at her laptop. I can’t figure out how to even open the damn thing, much less see what’s on it.” Stupid Windows 10. Simon could do whatever he wanted with Windows 7, not that it did him much good with any of the newer computers.

“I’ll take it into the office and see what I can find. You want me to keep looking around her house?”

Simon looked at Lacie, who had completely checked out. She stared off into the distance, a vague glaze over her eyes. “Yeah. We’ll be across the street.”

“You gonna be there long? I can’t imagine whoever has done this isn’t going to figure out where she is. It looks like he’s pretty invested.” Quinten kept his voice low.

Yeah, the wires and electronics Quinten had recovered must have set him back a pretty penny, and no telling what else Quinten would find. Simon called Hollerman.

“Do you have anything yet that could help me with Lacie’s case? Things are escalating, and I need something to work with. Yesterday.”

“All I have is the victim info. The FBI’s involved, and perp stuff isn’t public record. For some goddamned reason, charges filed have been dropped, but I’m still working on this.”

“That’s it? Victim info?” Simon understood Hollerman was working as hard as anybody, but he needed an ass to kick, needed names, needed more.

“For now. I’m making this a priority, but the info is slow coming. You know that.”

“Fine. As soon as you have something, send it to me.” To Quinten, Simon shook his head. “No. I’ll take her home with me.” She was still staring off into space, an eerie, blank slackness having come over her face. “I think we need a trip on the boat tomorrow, see if I can’t get her mind off all this for a day, at least.”

Quinten did a double-take at Simon’s mention of home. “You sure?”

No, he wasn’t sure, but he had to do it. Lacie needed to be kept safe at all costs. He’d be damned if he let her get hurt again. Sure, he needed to find whoever was doing this, but she needed to be safe first and foremost.

Shaking her shoulders to get her attention, Simon said, “Come on. Let’s get what you need from inside. You’ll be staying with me until this is over.”