Holy fucking Christ, I’m sweating. My palms are wet and there are droplets snaking down the back of my neck, all with the sheer force of being this close to Ruby and telling her to leave.

There’s another version of me who would have kissed her, pushed her up against the stone wall behind us, wrapped her legs around me and asked her how bad a girl she really was. But that guy is the reason I’m here at all, because that guy couldn’t keep his dick in his pants no matter what the consequences were.

And I’m not that guy. I’m celibate Gabriel, who drinks iced tea on his patio and does nice things for Senator’s daughters and doesn’t want anything in return, no matter how insanely tempting they are.

Through the hedge, Ruby stops for a moment, looks around, then looks up at the house. She walks the same semi-circle as when she sneaked out, entering the row of rose bushes at the same spot, then sliding behind them.

I see a light around the side of the house. They can’t see her and she can’t see them, but the flashlight beam wanders lazily, here and there, while Ruby ducks between roses and moves toward the window.

I clench one hand into a fist and put it to my mouth, watching. There’s nothing I can do except make it worse if we got caught — I’m almost certain I’d set off the motion-detector lights, and then Ruby’s father would be even angrier at her and I’d be fired.

The lights get closer. Ruby reaches the window and slides it all the way open noiselessly, standing on her tiptoes. I take one moment to appreciate the view of her perfect ass in that tight denim, imagine standing behind her right now, my hard-as-iron cock pressed against her while I lick the shell of her ear —

“And then she tells me that…” the voice trails off into something I can’t hear, but the guys coming around the house are getting closer.

Ruby grabs the windowsill. She pauses for a moment, then jumps, pushing herself up. For a second she wobbles, my heart constricting as I think I got her too drunk to get back in, she’s going to get caught and it’s all my fault — but she tilts herself forward and hoists one leg over the windowsill until she’s straddling it.

She looks dead at me, motionless, her face cool and impassive and unreadable as the two security guys get closer and closer to the corner. I nearly shout GO! At her, but instead I clench my jaw silently and after another second, Ruby disappears into the darkness of her house and slides the window shut.

The security guys come around the corner, still talking about a girlfriend or something, the light flicking around. I lean against the stone wall and let out a long, shuddering breath as quietly as I can.

That girl is gonna get you in serious trouble, I think.

And I grin, because if it’s that girl, I don’t mind.

* * *

Saturday, her father’s got a rally at a county fair about ninety minutes south of us. For once, everyone in the house is excited about this — because, after all the speeches and the talking, they’ll get to go to the fair for a few hours. The Senator will be busy telling teenagers in 4-H not to do drugs and trying to look impressed at prize-winning chickens, but everyone else gets to go on rides and eat funnel cake.

Hell, even I’m excited. My parents took my sister and me to a ton of county fairs when we were growing up, all across the country, since we moved so much. I’ve still got a soft spot for rigged midway games, dangerous rides, and enormous pumpkins.

The house that morning is complete pandemonium, full of Ruby’s family, her father’s staff, her father’s security, and plenty of people who don’t seem to serve a purpose other than standing around.

Still, when the Senator storms in through the front door, glowering like a thunderstorm, everyone notices and gets quiet.

“Gabriel,” he growls.

I stand instantly.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

He holds up an envelope, glares at me, then walks past, up the stairs. Everyone pretends that they’re not watching us as I follow.

Even with just a glimpse, I think I recognize the writing on the envelope. I think it’s Ruby’s stalker, and my stomach sinks. The Senator stalks into his office, me right behind him.

“Close the door after yourself,” he barks over his shoulder, and I do.

He throws the envelope onto the table, then sits heavily in his huge leather chair, glowering at it. I nod at the letter on his desk.

“Ruby’s stalker?” I ask.

“Read it,” he commands.

I pull the letter out. It’s a shorter one, just two handwritten pages in his strange, spidery, all-capital handwriting, but by the second sentence it’s turned my stomach, because by now he’s really getting right to the point.

He calls her names: Jezebel, Lilith, a fallen woman, things that sound biblical that I’ve never heard of but that I can tell are bad. He tells her that she’s brought sin, plague, and corruption on her father’s house and shame on her father’s name, and I think it’s because she dared to get divorced.

Every letter makes me see red, even before I’d ever really talked to her. This guy’s a sick fucking son of a bitch, and I’d love to meet him just so I can crumple his face in.

Then I get to the next page, to what he wants to do to her. It’s way, way worse than the last one. Clearly he thinks that Ruby is some sort of kindred spirit to his fucked-up, twisted, dark soul. This time, he doesn’t just want to rape her like he did in the last letter.

This one talks about months of abuse. Years maybe. He wants to force her to be his for life, have his children, probably never see the light of day again.

I can’t finish the letter. It makes me nauseous, and I’ve seen bodies cut in half by shrapnel. I’m pacing back and forth, shaking and sweating with rage, and I can’t stop imagining this asshole doing these horrible things to Ruby.

And I can’t stop thinking about how easy it was for her to sneak in and out.

I keep an eye on the trash can, because I think I might actually vomit.

“I don’t want Ruby going to the fair today,” the Senator says. “This has escalated precipitously. From now on, she doesn’t go anywhere without an escort. She stays with people at all times.”

“Actually, sir, I think she might be safer at the fair.”

The Senator folds his arms in front of himself, listening.

“In here she’ll be a sitting duck. Even though the house is well-secured, it’s fairly secluded, back from the road. It would be easier to get her alone here, and it would only take seconds for something terrible to happen. The fair will be crowded, hundreds of people around, and frankly, sir, I’m not a psychiatrist but this—”

— this piece of fucking lowlife scum —

“—person doesn’t seem to have a firm enough grasp on reality to pull anything off in public like that.”

As sickening as the letters are, I’m still not convinced that the writer is actually planning on doing anything. His revolting plans for her are fanciful at best and seem to change slightly each time he writes. Really, I think he gets off on writing letters and thinking about her reading them.

But I’m not an expert in psychology. And it’s not my job to figure out whether he’s serious. It’s my job to take him at his word and protect Ruby.

The Senator rises from his chair, puts the letter into a drawer in his desk and slams it shut before walking to the window and looking out.

“I’ve alerted both the Huntsburg police and the FBI to the great evil in our midst, but nothing’s been done,” he says, and for the first time, he doesn’t sound like the Senator. He sounds like someone’s father, sad and worried that he can’t protect his child.

“There’s no return address, no handwriting on file, nothing of the sort. So instead of taking action, we do nothing, and hope to stem the rot at our core.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, or why Ruby’s stalker is the rot at our core, but I feel a sudden stab of sympathy for him.

“I’m sure we’ll bring him to justice someday soon, sir,” I say.

He walks up to me, hands in his pockets, and looks me dead in the eye, once more the Senator.

“Frankly, son, if I have my way it’ll be God’s own justice, not the justice of the courtroom,” he says quietly.

Then he walks toward the huge door to his office.

“I’ll inform Ruby,” he says, and I follow him out and down the stairs.

I hang back as he tells her. She’s smearing sunscreen onto a kid’s face, smiling perfectly and beatifically as she does. The smile only falters for a split second as her father talks and then it’s back, beautiful and unwavering.

As her father walks off, she looks at me, steady and unreadable, and then she goes back to smearing the kid with sunscreen.

For just a split second I imagine her, tied down to a dirty bed, terror in her green eyes, and the thought alone sends a spike of fury and rage through my chest.

I’ll find him, I swear silently. I’ll find him and I’ll fuck him up good.

* * *

The bus ride to the Holtville County Fair is noisy, tedious, and boring. Ruby’s up front while I’m in the back with the rest of security, making innocuous small talk about weather and guns.

When we get to the fair, the bus goes to a parking lot labeled VIP. It’s not a real parking lot, just a field with half-dead grass, but we lurch along until we’ve pulled up alongside a few other buses. The air outside the cool bus is sticky and heavy with the smell of grass, my shirt sticking to my back as soon as I get out.

Ruby’s standing off to one side, talking to her mother.

“Good morning, Gabriel,” she says, tilting her head and smiling her sweet smile at me.

“Ruby, Mrs. Burgess,” I say.

Mrs. Burgess nods. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“It looks like the stage is already set up and ready,” I say. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to go over a few final security notes with Ruby before the rally begins.”

“Of course,” Ruby says.

Her mother’s eyes flick from my face to hers.

“I think I’d also like to hear them,” she says. “Can never be too careful, you know.”

She just doesn’t want to leave the two of us alone, not even perfectly visible, just out of earshot. The fuck does she think I’m going to do, throw Ruby over my shoulder and run away with her?

It’s not the worst thought, but I’m not a goddamn barbarian.

“Very true,” I say, leading them a bit away from the bus, toward the temporary stage behind a tall chain-link fence.

“All right,” I say to Ruby. “You remember where the exits are?”

She points.

“There, there, there, and… I think there’s one behind the stands on the other side that I can’t see.”

“Rendezvous point?”

“Ticket booth at the main fair.”

“If there’s an active shooter?”

“Run in a zig-zag pattern, get behind something.”

“If someone grabs you?”

“Raise he—”

She stops, and her mother’s head jerks around, eyes wide at her daughter. Ruby swallows, turning pink, but doesn’t look at her mom.

“Make lots of noise,” she says quietly. “And if he tries to carry me somewhere, go limp.”

I force myself not to smile.

“If he attacks you at close range?”

“Kick him… between the legs.”

I’m still not smiling, but we both know that underneath the wide eyes and the sweet smile, she’s thinking kick him in the balls.

I smile at her professionally, nodding once. Her mother is still trying to smile sweetly, but it’s obvious that she’s found something wrong here, though I don’t even know what. This has all been perfectly above-board, aside from Ruby nearly saying raise hell.

Maybe that was it. I don’t know.

“I think you’re ready,” I say.

“Thanks,” she answers.

“We should get back to the group,” her mother says. “I’m sure they’re wondering where we are.”

I doubt that, but I follow her back toward the van anyway, Mrs. Burgess leading, Ruby and I two steps behind. As we walk, her hand bumps mine, and we both pull back automatically.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Sorry,” she mutters, and we look at each other.

I’m not sorry, her eyes say.

I’m not either, I think.