CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I didn’t have any luck in parking lots at all.
I should have been pissed. Shocked. Upset. A whole host of things. At that moment, though, I felt nothing but curious. Curious as to what Smith had hoped to achieve by reducing my car to this.
Oh, my anger would no doubt come later, once I’d had a proper chance to truly absorb the situation. But right then, all I could do was wonder what this latest stunt was all about. Had Smith done this to yet again vent his anger? Had he hoped that leaving me without a car would make me easier prey? Had he done it for the shock value?
Sidling up to me, Sarah stuffed her phone in her pocket. “Bastien’s pissed.”
“I’ll bet he is. He wants you safe. The fact that some asshole did this outside your apartment building isn’t going to give him peace of mind.” I let my gaze flit across the dimly lit lot. Aside from a few tenants standing near the entrance of the building, there wasn’t a person in sight.
“That’s pretty much exactly what he said,” Sarah told me. “He’s on his way here. Is Blake coming?”
“Yeah.” He’d flipped the fuck out when I told him what happened. “I asked him to tone down his anger, since Smith could be hanging around, hoping to see fireworks. We don’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But whether Blake can keep a lid on it or not … that I don’t know.”
His patience had been severely tested by this son of a bitch enough times already. Blake was also tense at the possibility that Montgomery might try to contact me again. He had someone watching her, apparently, since he didn’t feel able to trust Tara to do it. She hadn’t yet called to apologize for picking a fight at the party a few days ago, but Emma had predicted that Tara would sulk a little first.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I scratched my nape. “Well, this will teach me to park at the far end of a lot. I don’t think the lamp above us was already broken when I got here. There’s glass on the roof of the car.”
“He must have smashed the light to give himself some cover.” Sarah cursed as she once again stared at the car. “That’s a whole lot of damage.”
Indeed, it was. The car was covered in scratches, strips of red paint, and graffiti. The tires had been slashed, the windows and headlights were broken, and there was a puddle beneath the car that made me think the fuel line had been cut. Also, he’d reached through the broken windows and sliced at the seats and headrests. I wasn’t sure if he’d done that before or after he’d splashed bright red paint into the interior of the car. Oddly, he’d opened the glove compartment and soaked the documents in paint.
“What does this scream to you?” I asked. “Is this an expression of fury? An attempt to get my attention? Or just a very thorough effort to ensure my car is out of commission? What does your gut say?”
She flapped her arms. “My gut has nothing. This guy isn’t a by-the-book stalker.”
“There’s a by-the-book stalker?”
“He doesn’t do typical stuff like send you letters, gifts, or flowers—not even dead ones. He hasn’t threatened you or tailed you—or, at least, he hasn’t been obvious about it. He only made direct contact with you twice. The email was really just a way to make you see and read his story. The phone call didn’t contain declarations of love or hate, just very extreme dating advice. Hell, he even admitted that videoing you in the shower was low. And aside from trashing your old apartment, he hasn’t done anything destructive other than this. I can’t read him. I can’t work out why he’s done any of the things he’s done.”
“Maybe that’s what he wants.” Because my gut wasn’t giving me anything either.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to come here for dinner. I should have just let you go straight home. I just didn’t like the idea of you eating alone while Blake was working late—”
“Sarah, this didn’t happen because I came here instead of heading straight home. This happened because the guy is the asshole of all assholes—and I’ve known a lot of assholes.” Hearing a car approach, I turned … only to see a patrol car, driven by none other than Joshua. I groaned. “Speaking of assholes … It had to be him who came, didn’t it?”
Sarah’s landlady, who insisted everyone call her ‘Nana,’ had called the cops after hearing a commotion outside. Unfortunately, the only description Nana could give of the culprit was that he was medium height and medium build, since he’d worn a ski mask and her eyesight wasn’t all that great.
“Really, I hadn’t expected the police to show,” I added. “At least not for a while, anyway. Car vandalism is a low priority around here.”
“You know how protective Nana’s son is of her. He probably pulled some strings to have the police come out here so he could be sure she was okay.”
As Joshua and Bartley slowly walked toward them, Joshua whistled at the sight of the car. “Quite a wreck.” Only once he’d circled the vehicle, taking in every detail, did he look at me. “Hello again, Miss Lyons. Is this your vehicle?”
Like he hadn’t pulled me over dozens of times. “It is.”
“Have you touched it at all since discovering it this way?” asked Bartley as he began to snap photos of the damage from different angles.
“No,” I replied simply.
Joshua pulled out a notepad and pen. “What time did you arrive here, Miss Lyons?”
“I came straight from work. Got here about five-thirty.”
He scribbled on his pad, but it honestly wouldn’t have surprised me if he was simply sketching obscene stickmen or something. “And what time did you leave the building?”
“About twenty minutes ago, when Sarah’s landlady called her, asking if she knew who the blue Nissan in the parking lot belonged to—Nana had called each of her tenants, one by one, asking about the car. We came outside and found it this way.”
“Did you notice anyone following you here?”
I shook my head.
“Anyone loitering around when you parked your car?”
Again, I shook my head.
Joshua rubbed at his jaw. “Interesting that both your car and your old apartment were vandalized recently.”
Yeah, I figured he’d say that.
Bristling, Sarah folded her arms across her chest. “I wouldn’t have said ‘interesting.’ More like ‘awful.’”
Bartley squatted to peek beneath the car as he asked, “Who might wish to do such a thing to your property, Miss Lyons?”
I shrugged. “Any number of people.”
“Can you be more specific?” Joshua clipped, impatient.
“There are plenty of people who find my existence offensive, Joshua. You’re one of them. And I do recall a time when you vandalized my car.” One I’d had as a teenager.
He stiffened, nostrils flaring. “I scratched it with a key, I didn’t—” He cut himself off, cheeks reddening. The confession had come eight years too late, but it was better than nothing. “This is much more than a scratch,” he pointed out.
“Yes, I can see that.”
Standing, Bartley said, “We’ll get someone to come out here and dust it for prints.”
I blinked, surprised they’d bother. Nana’s son obviously had some real pull.
Joshua spoke, “You’ll need to come down to the station and file a report.”
The muscles in my shoulders bunched. I did not want to spend my evening with Joshua in any capacity whatsoever.
Sarah elbowed me. “Here’s Blake.”
My whole system sighed in relief as I caught sight of his Maserati. Moments later, Blake was striding purposely toward me; muscles tight, jaw set into a hard line, exuding a wintry calm.
His hands caught my face. “You okay, baby?”
“I’m fine. As for the car? Not so much.”
He looked at it, lips thinning. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
Blake curled an arm around my shoulders. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”
Joshua stepped toward us. “She needs to file a report—”
“Tomorrow,” said Blake. “It’s late.”
“But—”
“Tomorrow is fine,” Bartley said, gesturing for Joshua to back off.
Instead, Joshua crossed to us. “Blake, I appreciate that you’re just being protective of your … girlfriend. For that reason, you should want to find out what’s happening. You don’t think it’s a coincidence that both her old apartment and her car have been targeted by vandals, do you? I want to find out who these guys are. It’s my job. And there’s something Kensey isn’t telling me, which is stopping me from doing my job. Bring her down to the station so we can get this sorted out.”
“So eager to believe the worst of her,” mused Blake. “It can’t be that she genuinely doesn’t know who’s doing this, can it? No. It must mean she’s hiding something from you just to make your job harder. Even if she was hiding something, could you honestly blame her for not trusting you to be of any help?”
Joshua’s mouth tightened. “I’m a cop. No matter the victim, I do my job.”
I snorted. “Like you did when I was almost mugged at knifepoint? You didn’t even investigate.”
He lost some of his bluster, and his eyes momentarily dropped to my scar. “You couldn’t give us a description.”
“And I can’t give you a description for you this time. I didn’t see or hear anything.” I shrugged. “So, I guess you have the excuse not to investigate this either.”
Bartley’s eyes darted from me to Joshua, glinting with confusion. Clearly, Joshua hadn’t told him about the mugging. “Buchanan,” he called out. “Let’s go talk to the landlady.”
Once the two men walked away, I blew out a breath and turned to Sarah. “Wait for Bastien inside. I’ll feel better if I know you’re not standing out here on your own.”
She saluted me. “I already have strict instructions to do so from Bastien anyway.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s mega bossy.” Backing up, she gave Blake a stern look. “You take care of my girl.”
He frowned. “She’s my girl.”
Laughing, Sarah turned and headed inside the building.
As I climbed into his Maserati, I let out a tired sigh and clicked on my seat belt. “You know, I didn’t realize how much I liked my car until I saw it all banged up.”
Beginning a slow drive out of the lot, Blake rubbed my thigh. “When you said it had been trashed, I didn’t think you meant it was that bad.”
“I’ll have to rent a car while I wait for the insurance money to come through.”
“I have a spare you can use.”
My brow creased at his ever so casual tone. “You have a spare car?”
“Yeah.” He stopped at a red light. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t like the idea of you driving any car after what’s just happened. As I was coming here to pick you up, I was thinking of just chauffeuring you everywhere so that I know you’re okay. But it struck me that Smith could be banking on that. He might not want you to have a car for some reason, and I’d rather you did in case you ever need one. It makes sense for you to use my spare until the insurance company coughs up the money.”
“And if he trashes your spare?”
“It’s just metal, Kensey. I have no personal attachment to it. You, however, I’m very attached to. It’s your safety I’m worried about.”
A little suspicious, I studied him. Who had a spare car just sitting around? Okay, yeah, some people did. But he’d never mentioned it before, and he was being so cool and casual about it. “What kind of car is it?”
“Genesis G80. One of the safest cars out there.”
I arched a brow. “And you sought out a safe car for yourself?”
He shrugged. “I like living.”
Did he think I was stupid? “You’re not giving me a car.”
“Okay,” he said simply, calm as you please.
“I’ll use it until my money comes through, but I’m not keeping it.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
His hand landed on my thigh. “Spread your legs.”
I tensed. “What?”
“Spread them.”
I slowly did so, watching him through narrowed eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to distract me?”
“I don’t know, why do you?” His hand snaked under my skirt and cupped my pussy possessively. “Now be still.”
He didn’t tease me the way he usually did. No, he brought me to orgasm hard and fast with two fingers. And I was, indeed, officially distracted … until we parked in the garage attached to his building and he gestured to a shiny, navy-blue Genesis parked a few cars away from his Maserati—one I’d never noticed before. “That’s a brand-new car, Blake.”
“It is.”
“You said you had a spare car.”
“I do.”
“You recently purchased a spare car?”
He shrugged. “It’s practical to have a spare. You never know when you might need one. Like now.”
I sighed, shaking my head in exasperation. “I’m not keeping the car.”
“Okay.”
“I will rent it from you.”
He scowled. “That would just offend me, same as it would offend you if I turned down an offer of help from you out of pride. That wouldn’t be fair of me, would it? And it would hurt you, which would only make it worse. The same applies here.”
“Don’t twist this to make yourself seem all innocent.” He was damn good at that.
“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy. I’d like you to borrow this from me until your insurance money comes through and you can buy something else. That’s all. Where’s the harm in that? Especially when Smith won’t expect it or be prepared for it.”
He’d talked me in a fucking circle, the bastard. I huffed. “Fine, I’ll borrow it.”
He drew me to him. “Good girl. See how easy that was?”
I rolled my eyes, but he just smiled and kissed me. “You think I’ll get attached to the car, don’t you?”
“No. I know you’d prefer to buy your own. This is just a loan.”
A loan. A loan I wouldn’t need if it weren’t for whoever had devoted months of their life to fucking with mine. And then it hit me. The anger rushed through me, making my fingers prickle, and it curdled in my stomach like stale milk. I balled my hands up into tight little fists. “I want to kill him, Blake. I really, really do.”
“I’ll kill him for you. It’ll be a fucking pleasure.”
I was so keeping this car, I thought the next day as I smoothly parked outside the bar. The G80 was an absolute dream to drive. Not that I’d accept it as the gift that Blake secretly meant for it to be. No, when my insurance money came through, I’d use it to pay off a chunk of the cost and then I’d pay him the rest in monthly instalments. If he didn’t like it, he could kiss my ass.
A gift was a box of chocolates. A book. A novelty cup. Not a brand-new car.
Blake had come with me earlier that morning to the police station. To my utter delight, neither Joshua nor Bartley had been there. A younger cop had filed the report and then given me an incident number to provide to my insurance company, so that was all done and dusted.
Just as I was sliding out of the car, a familiar motorcycle parked close by. Taking off his helmet, Cade got a good look at the G80 and smiled. “Nice.”
“I’m borrowing it from Blake.”
His lips twitched. “Borrowing. Right.” He sobered as he asked, “Any news on what happened to your Nissan?”
“Nothing more to report yet.” I’d called Clear, Cade, and Sherry last night to tell them about the vandalism, wanting them alert. “Joshua’s partner said they’d have the car dusted for prints, but I don’t know if they really did. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
As we headed up the path, Cade cleared his throat. “I heard you’re living with Blake now.”
I tensed a little. “Yep.”
“That has to mean you know everything about him. You’d never fully commit to someone who held back from you.”
“I know everything.”
“And you can handle it?”
I gave Cade a sideways glance. “He’s not Michael.”
“No, he’s not. And I’m glad you see that, because it means your upbringing hasn’t fucked with your head so badly that you see Michael in every man you meet. Blake’s a good guy, and he obviously cares for you. This is good.”
See, no jealousy. How could Blake not see that? “How’s Kerri?”
“A pain in my ass, same as always,” Cade complained, but it was said with affection.
“Tell her I said hi. Morning, Dodger,” I called out just as Bandit came padding out of CCC. After the dog and I did our morning ritual and I had a brief conversation with Dodger, assuring him that I was fine, I headed into the bar. When I found myself in Sherry’s arms, I didn’t quite know what to do.
My godmother was not what anyone would call ‘affectionate.’ She loved with her whole heart, but it wasn’t something she put into words or expressed with hugs and kisses. So, as she wrapped her arms around me and rocked me from side to side, I sort of froze.
“I can’t stand this anymore, Kensey. I can’t stand hearing that bastard has done this, that, or the other. It’s messing with my head, so heaven only knows what it’s doing to yours. I’m so worried that at some point I’ll get a call saying he’s trashed you.”
Her sniffle made me tense. “What do I do?” I mouthed at Sarah.
“I don’t know,” she mouthed back, clearly on the verge of laughing.
I lightly patted Sherry’s back, not sure how much affection she’d tolerate before she shoved me away. “I’m all right, Sherry. Really.”
She pulled back and smacked my arm. “I know you’re all right. That’s not the point.”
I raised my hands. “Sorry. I get that you’re worried. You’re not alone on that one. It’s hard to predict what this guy will do next or how far he wants to take this. But I won’t let that worry cripple me, and neither should you. Okay?”
Sherry gave a slow nod. “Fine. Put your purse in your locker and get to work. I don’t pay you to stand around looking pretty.”
“You think I look pretty?”
With a somewhat haughty sniff, she walked off.
That was when I got to work. It proved to be a quiet day, which meant there wasn’t much to occupy my mind. As doing nothing never worked well for me and I was more stressed by my car’s doom than I was willing to admit … well, by the time my shift was almost done the ladies’ restrooms gleamed more immaculately than ever before, and the stockroom was impeccably organized.
“Hey, Kensey!” Henry shouted as I was trying to yet again teach Reed how to make coffee. “Yo mama’s so poor, she does drive by shootings on a bus!”
I smiled. “Yo mama’s so old, when she lifted up her boob a pilgrim fell out!”
Lazy laughs rang throughout the bar, none of which were louder than Henry’s own throaty guffaws.
“What the fucking fuck is she doing here?”
At Sarah’s words, I whirled. And barely bit back a hiss. “Laurel,” I muttered under my breath, watching as her gaze swept over the bar.
Reed leaned into me and whispered, “Why are you snarling?”
“I’m not,” I said quietly.
“You’re not now, but you were.”
Whatever. At that moment, Laurel spotted me and then came my way with a cautious smile. “Hello, Kensey.”
“Laurel,” I said simply. Was it possible to look at your boyfriend’s stepmother, who’d tried several times to seduce him, and not want to slap her? Probably not.
“This place is nice.” She seemed to mean it. “I heard from Emma that you make fabulous coffee. Do you do vanilla lattes?”
“I do. You want it to drink in or take out?”
“In, please.”
Damn. As I prepared the latte, I did my best to smother my anger. I had enough crap going on, I didn’t need to cause drama for myself by starting shit with Blake’s stepmother, even if she was wacked.
“Thank you,” she said as I handed her the latte and she put the cash on the bar. “Would you sit with me for just a minute?”
It was a struggle not to curl back my upper lip. “All right.” I couldn’t have sounded less enthusiastic if I’d tried, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she headed to a corner table. I sat opposite her and waited, hands clasped in my lap.
She licked her lower lip. “Emma mentioned that things were serious between you and Blake. And, well, I was hoping we could talk.”
“Okay,” I said simply, going for cool and casual. I clearly hadn’t pulled it off, because she winced and her shoulders hunched.
“He told you.”
“He told me.”
“I can imagine what you must think of me.”
No, I doubted she could truly imagine just how little I thought of her. I fucking despised her for what she’d done to a person who’d already been hurt and used enough. “What do you want?”
“I don’t want Blake to hate me.” She inhaled deeply. “I met someone recently. It’s been a long time since I was with a man who was close to my own age.” Her face split into a dreamy smile that reminded me of Clear when she talked of Michael. “Ben’s so good to me.”
Twiddling her fingers, she looked down. “I felt I wasn’t worthy of that kind of affection, so I told him how I’d tried to seduce my stepson. I thought he’d turn away from me. He should have done. But he said we all make mistakes; we all do bad things for what seem like a good reason at the time. Sex is the only type of comfort I know, Kensey. I’m not saying I didn’t know it crossed a line to offer that sort of comfort to Blake, but it didn’t seem such a big deal until I got out from under my cloud and was able to put it all into perspective.
“Ben’s helping me with that. He said I needed to make amends. I have tried to apologize to Blake before. Many times. But he thinks I’m just slyly trying to get close to him so that I can pounce. I genuinely just want to apologize.”
“And, what, you’re hoping I’ll run interference for you?” Because that wasn’t going to happen. She’d made her mess; she needed to be the one to fix it. It would be a struggle, sure, but nothing like that deserved to be forgiven so easily.
“Not run interference. I would like you and I to get along, though. When Emma met Adam, they were very young. Teenagers. I made the mistake of thinking it wouldn’t last, so I was very … dismissive and rude to him, thinking he’d be a passing fancy. I had nothing against Adam, I just didn’t like seeing my little girl with boys. Anyway, that bad first impression left a strain on the relationship I now have with him. I don’t want to make that mistake with you. I’d like us to be friends.”
I sighed. “Here’s the thing, Laurel. I’m not sure I can do ‘friends.’ I care about Blake. A lot. I hate what happened to him. Hate that he was betrayed and abused by his teacher. The last thing he needed was yet another older woman hoping to use him that way. Like her, you were someone he should have been able to trust. You weren’t. I can’t forgive that. I doubt I could ever consider you a friend. The best I can offer you is civility. I’m not being mean here, I’m being honest.”
She swallowed hard. “I appreciate your honesty. Blake needed care and understanding, I know. I tried to give it to him. He wouldn’t take it. Even when he was a child, I couldn’t get close to him. Emma did, which I was glad of. But he just never warmed to me. When his father died, I was the only parent he had. And that scared me. I didn’t know how to care for him, but I didn’t want him to be lonely.” She sighed in annoyance. “I’m not explaining it well. It sounded so much better when Ben put it into words. He understands me.”
“That’s good.”
“The other men were never really interested in me, my life, or my family. Ben is. We talk for hours and hours, in bed and out of it. It’s like he finds every little detail of my life fascinating. I’ve never had that. Not even with Blake’s dad.”
The hairs on my nape stood on end. If I’d had spidey senses, they would have been tingling. I leaned forward. “Tell me more about Ben.”
Later that day, I relayed my conversation with Laurel to Blake as he and I ate our dinner on the balcony. Blake was pissed to hear she’d gone to the bar, and he got increasingly pissed with each word I spoke.
Then he froze, blinking, and the swirly pasta slipped from his fork. “Say that again.”
I took a deep breath. “I think Laurel’s new boyfriend might just be Noah Linton.”
He stared at me, brow pinched. “You’re serious.”
“She said he’s always asking questions about her life and her family.”
“It’s not unusual that Ben would be curious about his woman.”
“He asks a lot of questions about you. Even me.”
That made him stiffen. “You?”
“To get an idea of whether I can help build a bridge between you and Laurel or not.” I forked some pasta. “He asked for her perception of me. If I’m possessive of you. If I seem the jealous type. If our living arrangement is temporary or permanent. If I’ve taken you to meet my stepfather in prison. Apparently, he recognized my name—said he reads a lot of true crime books.”
“Linton’s trying to build a profile of our relationship,” Blake mused.
“I think so. He finds it fascinating that I’m with you, remember? It wasn’t until I asked questions about him that Laurel seemed to realize how little information about himself he’d given her in return.”
“Laurel’s so happy to talk about herself that she wouldn’t have otherwise noticed.”
I chewed some pasta before I continued. “She only knows his name, some basic info about his family, and that he’s a therapist. None of which is true, if Ben is in fact Linton. And from the brief physical description of him that she gave me, I’m pretty sure he is. I didn’t tell her about my suspicions, because she might confront him. If it is Noah, I don’t want him to know we’re onto him.”
“Laurel wouldn’t have believed you,” he said with a dismissive wave of his fork. “She’d have taken it as an insult that you thought anyone could manipulate and use her that way. Maybe I could ask Emma to feign interest in meeting him.”
“That would work. She knows what Linton looks like.”
Blake pushed aside his empty plate and reached for his wine. “If this is Linton, it was damn ballsy of him to take the risk of inserting himself into Laurel’s life.”
I nodded. “And it speaks of someone who isn’t willing to walk away from whatever he’s doing. He has a real purpose. An objective. Maybe he wasn’t bullshitting us; maybe he really does intend to write a book, I don’t know. And I hate that I don’t know.”
“I’ll ask Emma to see if Laurel will let her meet him. It’s possible that—” He stopped talking as his cell began to ring. Picking it up from the table, he said, “It’s Emma. Speak of the devil …” He swiped his thumb over the screen and then answered, “Hey.” His body went rigid. “What? You’re fucking joking.” He ground his teeth. “Right. I will.”
As he ended the call, I asked, “What now?”
Blake drummed his fingers on the table. “The PI who watches Ricky Tate’s house just called Emma.”
I grabbed the edges of the table. “They saw him going inside?”
“No. They saw Joshua going inside.”