Holy shit, I can’t believe I just did that. There was a naked girl in my bed — fuck, a naked girl who’d just come her brains out — and I just told her to go instead of getting herself into trouble.

A couple months ago, I’d never have done that. Hell, a couple of weeks ago I wouldn’t have turned down more sex. I didn’t do that, one of the dumbest decisions of my life, which is why I’m here in the first place.

I walk to my bedroom window and angle myself so I can see through the blinds without moving them. Ruby’s a dark shape walking across the lawn in a wide circle, and as I watch her head for the pantry window, shoulders straight, hair moving in the breeze, I think: maybe I don’t regret coming here quite so much any more.

She ducks around the side of the house and I can’t see her anymore, but I’m holding my breath. I’m still hard as fucking iron, and I clench my hands into fists, determined to wait until I’m sure she’s okay before I jerk off thinking about Ruby for the thousandth time.

Ruby, half-naked on my kitchen table, her breasts full and her nipples stiff under my hands. The way she gasped when I touched her.

Ruby, naked on my bed, her legs around my waist. The noise she made as I kissed my way down her leg, her hands in my hair as I licked her.

The way she moaned, pussy clenching, when she came, every ounce of her self-control gone out the window.

I swallow, teeth clenched, cock throbbing in my pants.

Not until she’s okay.

I keep waiting, powerless, and I fucking hate it because I’ve always been terrible at sneaking and subterfuge. I’d rather go in, guns blazing, and get the job done once and for all, but that’s not how it works here.

Finally, just as I’m starting to get nervous for her, a curtain moves in her bedroom, and a sliver of darkness appears, Ruby’s face in the middle. I lift a single slat in the blinds, and I can’t see her face that well, but I’m almost certain she smiles.

Then she waves. I stick my fingers through the blinds and wave back, and she closes the curtains.

In seconds I’m on my bed, cock in my hand, the memory of Ruby’s moans filling my ears as I pump my hand hard, desperate for some kind of relief. I think of her naked, on the bed, of her fingernails on my back as I tease her slick folds, the way she’d moan as I enter her. The expression in her eyes as she gets close, the way she’d feel as she came with me inside her—

I erupt in seconds, faster than I’ve come in years, clenching my jaw so I don’t shout. Afterward I take a deep, long, shuddering breath, stand, and head for the bathroom, dick still hanging out of my pants since I’m alone here, after all.

It didn’t scratch my itch. It didn’t come close, but at least I think I can sleep tonight.

* * *

In my shower the next morning, I wash my face about twenty times. Not because I mind smelling like Ruby, but because I can hardly walk around the Senator’s house with the smell of his daughter’s pussy on my face. Even if the thought makes me smile.

Besides, I’ve got a suspicion that the Senator couldn’t identify the smell of pussy if there was one right in front of him.

When I walk into the kitchen, Ruby’s right there, stirring together a big bowl of fruit salad. She looks over at me and for half a second we both stop, and I swear to God something about the way the morning sun lights her hair makes her look like some sort of angel.

The urge to walk over, wrap her in my arms and kiss her good morning is so strong that I have to clench my fists in my pockets. But then Mrs. Burgess bustles in, carrying a pot of coffee, and breaks the spell.

“Morning, Gabriel,” Ruby says, exactly the same way she does every morning.

“Morning, Ruby,” I respond, and Mrs. Burgess hands me a cup of coffee.

“Go on in to breakfast,” she says, in the polite voice she uses for orders. “The food will be right in.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I say.

I give Ruby one last glance, force myself not to think of how soft her thighs were against my lips, and go into the dining room to join the rest of the men.

* * *

After lunch, there’s a meeting of the Senator’s security staff. Thank God, no one mentions the strange noises from last night. Even though I sometimes do wake up shouting, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t sound anything like Ruby whisper-shouting oh my God over and over again, so I was kind of surprised the guy bought it.

The meeting feels like it lasts forever in a stifling hot room right off the Senator’s office. The air conditioning doesn’t work too well in a house this old and this big, and Ray, who’s a little paranoid, won’t open a window. So I sit there, sweat, and think about Ruby’s legs wrapped around my waist.

As it’s ending and I’m leaving, distracted, I hear the Senator clear his throat pointedly, and my stomach clenches.

“Gabriel,” he says.

I snap my head up and look him in the eye, thinking I’ve never seen your daughter naked.

“Sir?”

He buttons one button on his jacket, waiting for the rest of the security staff to trickle out. Then he nods at the door to his office, indicating that I should follow him.

“A word,” he says.

I steel myself, nodding, and follow.

Don’t take it out on Ruby, I think. Make sure I never work again, just don’t take it out on her.

He sits as his desk, waving a hand at the chair opposite, and I follow suit. Wordlessly, he takes an envelope from a drawer and tosses it across his desk.

I’m relieved but angry, all at once, one emotion traded for the other as I pick up the latest missive from Ruby’s stalker and start praying, wordlessly, that this is one of the harmless ones.

“It came today,” the Senator says, his voice listless. “Postmarked yesterday from Atlanta, just like all the others. Nothing in the envelope. It’s the same notebook paper, the kind you get at Wal-Mart for fifty cents a ream.”

Everything about this letter is untraceable, he’s saying. They all are: envelopes and paper and ink used by millions of people; postmarked Atlanta, one of the biggest cities on the east coast. He told me during one of our meetings that he had the FBI run the DNA from the envelope sealant, but it didn’t match anything in the system.

Besides, just letters is pretty low on the threat scale for law enforcement. Even letters like these.

I open it without saying anything, the Senator’s eyes on my face, and start reading.

About two paragraphs into the spindly handwriting, I start frowning.

“This is...” I start, trailing off. I turn the page over and skim the other side, alarm bells ringing louder and louder.

“Sir, as far as I can tell this is an exact account of her activities at the Holtville County Fair last Saturday,” I say. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.

I was there. I was with her, the whole time, and I didn’t protect her from him. This fucking creep was there too, watching her every move. Noting it down for later use, and now he’s goddamn taunting me with that knowledge.

“This has escalated,” the Senator says darkly.

I read it again, practically seeing red. I can’t believe how wrong I had this guy, thinking that he would never try anything, thinking that he just got off on writing her creepy letters and nothing else.

He followed us. He followed her and I had no idea. Cold sweat starts tracing down my body as I think of every time that day that she left my sight, that she went to the ladies’ room, that she turned a corner before I did.

Everything. He saw everything, and this message is crystal fucking clear: if he wanted to, he could hurt her.

I could flip the Senator’s desk over right now, my whole body nearly vibrating with raw rage even as I try to collect myself and act as though I’m professionally upset, not fucking murderous.

“We need to go after him,” I say. “There has to be something. We know he was close last Saturday, and chances are, he’ll be close again. He’ll want to try something, and when we does we’ll—”

I stop short, because I nearly say rip his fucking arms off and beat him with them. I clear my throat.

“—See that he’s arrested,” I finish.

“I agree,” the Senator says curtly. “I’ll be adding to her security detail during events that require her to leave the estate, and I’m increasing patrols around the house itself.”

He leans forward at his desk, eye glinting dangerously. I’m strangely glad that, as differently as we feel about everything else, we’re both fucking furious about this. We have exactly one thing in common, and it’s our desire to protect Ruby.

“I’ve spoken again with my contacts at the FBI and exerted a little pressure,” he says. “Right now, they’ve got a handwriting analyst working on this, as well as a few agents going through the security cameras from the post office where this was postmarked. It’s a long shot, but I had to do something.”

“Are there records of who attended the fair?” I ask, though I’m sure he’s thought of it.

The Senator shakes his head.

“FBI and Holtsville PD have gone over what they could already,” he says. “Someone just walking around the fair wouldn’t have set off any alarms.”

But he was there, I think. He was right there. I must have seen him.

We might have made eye contact. Jesus, I could have spoken with him.

The thought turns my blood cold.

“I’d like you to put together a security plan for our overnight visit to Charleston to attend the Patriots for America rally,” he says. “Any resources you need are yours.”

“Thank you, sir.”

There’s a knock on the side door, and Mason sticks his face in.

“Your daughter, sir.”

The Senator sighs.

“Yes, send her in.”

The door closes, and he leans across the desk, hand extended. It’s a clear we’re done here, so I stand and shake his hand as the door opens again and Ruby walks in.

I swear every inch of my skin prickles.

“You wanted to see me, father?” she asks in that clear, honey-sweet, fake voice.

“Thank you, Gabriel,” the Senator says, and I head for the door.

Just as I step through, I hear him say, “Ruby, I heard you refused Kyle Pickett’s offer of marriage.”

The door shuts behind me, and I stop short.

That’s what he’s fucking talking to her about?

Every nice thought I had about the Senator wanting to protect his daughter flies out the window. I nearly open the door again to give the man hell, but instead I clench my teeth and stop myself. Getting fired won’t make Ruby any safer.

In the side office, Mason is watching me from behind his desk, but he quickly looks away when I make eye contact. Still fuming, I let myself out and head downstairs to start planning for our trip.