Chapter 10
Sam took a picture of the note, then texted Avery and sent the picture as an attachment. Avery texted right back.
“Just help him keep it together tonight. Take pictures of the crowd. Maybe the creep will show.
They wouldn’t know who he was, but she and Avery had discussed doing this at all the stops. That way if there was someone who showed up each time they’d have a face to focus on.
On the way to the store she did her best to calm Blake down and help him gather himself for the book signing. She hated to see him so rattled, but she could hardly blame him. This guy, whoever he was, knew exactly how to stick the knife in and twist it.
She’d spent some of the time in Arrowhead Bay doing a lot of reading about Blake Morgan. The world could find out anything it wanted to know about the man just by doing a global search online.
She’d learned he was well respected in the industry, that his books got excellent reviews and that with the fourth book he’d finally hit the best-seller lists. When she checked his social media pages she discovered he had thousands of Facebook likes and more than fifty thousand Twitter followers. Scoping out his photo album on Facebook she discovered that he never posed with just one woman unless it was a reader, and that his readers apparently mobbed him for pictures.
She asked herself over and over how a guy who had grown up to be a decent human being could have acquired someone so vicious as this stalker. There was no hint, not on social media or in any of the articles she’d read, of anything he might have done to engender this kind of situation.
All this reading also gave her a clearer insight into the man he’d become. Maybe she could let herself believe what he said. God knew she wanted to very badly. Those feelings she’d kept buried all these years were battering at the wall she kept around them. But she worried things were moving too fast, not at all the way she’d insisted that day in the Driftwood. And then there was her past, and all the mistakes she’d made. How did she get beyond that?
God, what a mess.
But right now, she reminded herself, her focus was on Blake. She done her best to settle him before they left the hotel. Now she sensed him pulling himself together and donning the personality of the public Blake Morgan. When they exited the car in the parking lot behind the store, someone not familiar with him would see a man relaxed and ready to meet his public. Only Sam, or someone else who knew him well, would catch the telltale tightening of his jaw or the haunted look in his eyes.
Chelsea Hanover, the store manager, was waiting for them when they rang the bell for the back door.
“We’re so excited to have you, Mr. Morgan.” She smiled as she led them inside. “As I told your assistant, we’ve had tons of calls since your television spot this morning.” She gestured toward the interior of the store. “And as you can see, you won’t lack for fans tonight.”
Sam wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t the wall-to-wall people in the store, which was no small space.
“I’ll do my best to satisfy them,” Blake told her, his public personality covering him like a cloak. He took Sam’s arm and tugged her forward. “This is my personal assistant, Sam Quenel. If you have any questions about anything, feel free to ask her. And she’ll be taking pictures of the readers. I hope that’s okay.”
“That will be fine. They’ll like that, especially if you tell them you’ll be posting on Facebook. And I know there will be some who will want selfies with you.”
He had talked to her about this. He didn’t want to risk upsetting his fans and she agreed she’d supervise it.
The moment they were out of the little hallway and into the store proper, the noise level rose exponentially.
“There he is,” someone called out.
Sam skimmed her gaze over the crowd. She figured the ages ran from early thirties to mid-seventies. Of course, thrillers appealed to all age groups so the crowd was a real mixture.
Sam had been to other book signings so she was familiar with the setup—a roped-off section with a table for the author, pens and water at his elbow. The books had already been purchased by the readers, who held them tightly as they waited their turn. Blake was introduced and he gave what he’d explained to her earlier was his usual presentation, calling for questions at the end. Then the rope holding back the line was lifted from the stanchion to let the first group of people move toward him, with two of the store employees guiding them to maintain order.
How does he do this? Chat, sign, take pictures, move on to the next one.
She had his messenger bag behind her against the wall, away from the crowd, so this time no one could leave a note. While Blake did his thing, she took pictures. She was constantly checking the crowd, mainly looking for a man who would be big enough and strong enough to carry Grant Kennelly across the yard. But she also kept her eyes peeled for anyone who gave off weird vibes. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that the stalker had an accomplice.
Sam made sure she was never far from his side, continuing to take pictures of the crowd with her phone. At the end of the night she’d send them back to Avery. Vigilance could run them through their sophisticated facial recognition software. She didn’t expect they’d get one to pop up with a label that said “stalker,” but you never knew what you’d get out of one of these searches. And at the upcoming signings she’d do the same thing. If they were lucky they might spot the same face in more than one place.
Finally, the last person shook his hand, had their picture taken with him and left with their signed book. Blake put down his pen and flexed his hand, no doubt cramping from writing all that time. Chelsea Hanover asked if they could take some pictures of him with the display of his books and with some of the store personnel. Then his final chore—sitting in the office and signing the presolds, for people who could not make the opening.
“Thank you so much for doing this, Mr. Morgan.” Chelsea shook his hand enthusiastically.
“My pleasure.”
“Our regional manager wanted to be here. He’s a big fan of yours. Unfortunately he had a business emergency that required his attention. He did, however, ask me to pass along that he’d be contacting your publisher about dates in some of the other stores.”
“Tell him thank you very much. I’ll look forward to it.”
“See?” Sam nudged him with her elbow as they left the store. “It was a good night and you were a huge success.”
“I’d like to think so.” Blake breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t know what I was expecting,” he told her. “Maybe some maniac to come running in screaming about whatever it is I’m supposed to have done. But it was just a normal book signing. Thank the lord.”
“Do you always get a crowd this big?” She was curious about that.
“Usually. That’s why Henry asked for the signings to be at larger stores.” He chuffed a laugh. “On my first tour, I was happy to get ten people.”
“Hopefully, all the rest of the signings will go as well.”
Sam held her breath as they approached the car, but the windshield was blessedly free of any notes. She pressed the remote, opened her door—and took a step back.
Holy hell!
A book lay on the passenger side of the front seat. Not just any book, but the one he’d been signing tonight with a note folded on top of it. A knife had been stabbed through both items.
Blake had stored his messenger bag in the back seat and opened the front passenger door to climb in. The moment he spotted the little display, he took a step back. “What the hell?”
“Don’t touch anything,” Sam told him. “And don’t try to get in.”
“Fuck.” He spat he word. “He’s done it again.”
Sam looked at him. “What do you mean? Has he left you a little, um, present like this before?”
“No, not that. It’s in the stuff I told Avery about. He left one of his notes in my trunk, taped to the spare tire. Crap.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Do you know that for a hundred dollars you can buy a little gizmo online that will unlock any car door?”
“Unfortunately, yes. They make for all kinds of problems.” She set her tote on the ground.
“Damn it all to hell.” He smacked his fist on the roof. “He used this new book. Is the knife supposed to mean he’s stabbing me in the heart? Or I figuratively stabbed someone in the back? Or maybe, God forbid, he’s planning to kill?”
“Careful,” Sam warned. “He could be watching. And for God’s sake, don’t look around. He wants to see your reaction. Remember?”
“Hell.”
“I think any of those choices are possible,” she answered. “Or maybe none of them. With someone like this, where the reason behind everything is so vague, it’s hard to make a determination. And I don’t want to eliminate any possibility too soon.”
“Shit.” He let out a long sigh. “How did my life get so screwed up? Sam, I swear to you, I know I keep saying this, but no matter how much I dig through my brain, I can’t think of a thing I’ve done to warrant this kind of stuff.”
“It could be something totally insignificant to you, but so enormous to this person that he keeps blowing it out of proportion.”
“Swell. Just swell.”
“Be very, very careful here. Don’t touch anything. Just stand back for a minute. The first thing I want to do is take a picture and shoot it to Avery. She’ll call back soon, I promise you.”
She could almost see the tension rolling off him in waves as she took her pictures and sent them off in a text to Avery.
“People coming.” Blake inclined his head toward the back of the store.
She looked up as two of the salespeople walked out the back door.
“Lean on the car like we’re talking, maybe discussing whether to go out to eat or something.”
“Everything okay, Mr. Morgan?” one of the women called.
“Yes, we’re all good. Thanks. Just figuring out if we’re hungry or not.”
“I can recommend some good places around here,” the other woman chimed in.
“We’ve got it, but thanks.” He waved at them.
Sam hoped they got the message.
“Oh, okay. Well, good night. Thanks again for tonight.”
She and Blake waited until the women had climbed into a car and driven off.
“That was good,” Sam told him in a low voice. “We don’t want to get anyone else involved in this and start some kind of panic. Or worse yet, a gossip train.”
“No shit. The next signing is day after tomorrow and we can’t let anything derail it.” He shook his head. “You never know what attracts people and what turns them off.”
“Agreed. We don’t want to give this guy any publicity until we have to. We should hear back from Avery in a second.”
Even as she said the words, her phone chimed.
“Looks like he’s making use of his little gizmo again,” were Avery’s first words.
“Yeah. Blake said the same thing.”
“He’s got balls. You have to give him that. He did this whole thing in a parking lot where anyone could have seen him.”
“It’s a strip center,” Sam told her. “The bookstore is the anchor and the parking for it is in the back at the end. The store had a space for us right by the back door, so whoever this is took a major chance on being discovered.”
“The knife disturbs me,” Avery told her. “It’s an indication that, as we expected, he’s escalating. The problem with people like this who are unbalanced, once they get a taste of the excitement danger creates, they often find it hard to stop.”
Sam let out a sigh. “Great. Just great. We’ll be on the alert and I’ll start vetting the bookstore sites better.” She shifted the phone to the other hand. “We shouldn’t stand here much longer. You want me to send this to you?”
“Please. Use the same person you met with this afternoon.”
“That’s my plan,” she told her boss.
“How’s Blake?”
Sam turned away and lowered her voice. “About how you would expect but keeping it together.”
“Take care of him, Sam. I don’t want him to fall apart.”
“I’m on it.”
She disconnected the call, shoved her phone in her pocket, and opened her tote.
“Now what?” Blake asked.
“Now we remove this very carefully and get it ready to overnight to Avery.”
She took out a pair of latex gloves and a large plastic bag. After snapping on her gloves, she slid the book and knife toward her and eased it upright into the bag. Then she placed it on the floor in the back.
“You just going to leave it there?” Blake asked.
“Of course not. But the box I need to put it in is back at the hotel. Come on. Let’s take care of this. Then we’ll get something to eat.”
Blake shook his head as he slid into the car. “I don’t think I could eat anything. Not after this.”
“Maybe a slice of pizza?” She had to get him to eat or he’d be sick.
“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes.
In the light from the parking lot she could see the lines of tension etched into his face. “We’ll see. Let’s do this first.”
“Where are you going to ship anything this time of night? Everyplace is closed.”
She grinned. “Our friend from this afternoon has many resources.”
Blake glanced at his watch. “You’re going to call him at this time of night?”
“The word is he never sleeps. Let’s take a detour to his place. Then we’ll revisit the food thing again.”
* * * *
Blake wanted to wait in the car while Sam carried the sickening package into the house, but she vetoed that.
“You don’t know if he’s out there, watching, waiting for an opportunity to attack you.”
“Before he tells me why he’s doing all this?”
“It’s not worth the risk. Come on, big boy. Let’s get this done.”
“Avery called,” Fred told them at the door. “I know what needs to be done. Come on, Sam.”
They left Blake sitting in the living room while Fred ushered Sam to a room in the back. Blake leaned his head back against the couch and tried to find some measure of calm. Most of the good feeling from the successful book signing dissipated with this latest episode. If he only knew who or what was behind this, but no matter how he beat up his brain, nothing came to him.
He wished he could just shut that same brain off for a few hours and forget about all this for a while. At the signing tonight, he’d found himself looking at the people who brought their books for him to sign and wondering if it was one of them. Or, like Sam, mentioned, was it someone who didn’t come to buy a book but just to watch him, study his reaction to everything? The idea gave him the creeps and a tiny shudder raced over him.
He knew Sam would try to feed him, but the last thing he wanted right now was food. What he really wanted—needed—was to take a naked Sam to bed and lose himself in her exquisite body. Each time they’d been together the coupling had been close to frantic, as if they were trying to satisfy a desperate need. Something left over from the past. A desire to find out if what they’d carried around all these years was more than the vestiges of teenage horniness.
What he wanted tonight was to shut out all of this craziness, block the anxiety that dogged his every minute, and make slow, delicious love with Samantha. He wanted her to leave Sam in the living room and bring Samantha into the bedroom.
He felt as if he’d been sitting there, waiting, for an hour, but when she finally came to fetch him, he checked his watch. Only fifteen minutes had passed.
“Well?” he asked, looking from Sam to Fred.
“All set,” she told him.
“I have a private plane flying someone’s client to Fort Myers tonight. Avery will send someone to the airport to meet the plane and collect the package.”
Blake lifted an eyebrow.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Sam thanked Fred, and then they were back in the car and headed down the quiet residential street. Neither of them spoke on the drive back to the hotel, as if there was nothing to say. Blake knew they still had way more questions than answers, and he was sure Sam was as tired of the questions as he was.
“Food?” she asked as they reached the downtown area. “If you don’t want to stop anywhere, the hotel has room service 24-7.”
“Let’s get inside first. I have the feeling that creep has eyes on us and I want to get out of his sight.”
“No one followed us when we left the bookstore,” she told him. “But I understand where you’re coming from.”
“But if you’re hungry, feel free to order something.”
“We’ll see. Like you said, let’s get inside first.”
He did his best not to keep looking over his shoulder when they parked the car and moved from the garage to the hotel. He was glad it was just the two of them in the elevator going up to the suite. Before he even stepped into the hall he had his tie off and stuffed in his pocket, the top buttons on his shirt undone, and his jacket off and draped over his arm.
“I hope you’re planning to wait until we get into the suite before going any further,” Sam teased.
“Barely.” He managed a wink.
She might have thought he was teasing but far from it. The moment they were inside and had dropped their things by the couch, he reached for her and took her into his arms.
“I don’t want food, Sam.” He wrapped her long braid around one hand and tilted her head back. “I want you. Naked. That’s better than any food or drink you can order for me. That’s all I need. Just you.”
She stared back at him, her brilliant blue eyes now the color of a stormy sea with all the emotions swirling in them.
“That sounds…serious.” She wet her lower lip with her tongue, and his cock immediately leaped to life.
“As a heart attack,” he told her.
“We don’t want any heart attacks here, do we?” She stroked his cheeks with her slender fingers.
“Definitely not.” He couldn’t take his gaze from her. “Could I interest you in a shower? Something to wash all this crap out of our lives for a while?”
He held his breath, waiting for her answer. She had to know how he was feeling. She had seemed to pull back a little. He was glad that right now she wasn’t giving him a hard time about what he wanted. Make that needed. The more he was with her, the more he knew this was real. The trick would be convincing her. Her reluctance had to be about more than what happened all those years ago. He didn’t know if she wasn’t sure of him or herself, but he planned to figure out how to make damn sure she knew this wasn’t just an itch he was scratching without scaring her off. When the time was right he’d make her tell him.
But not tonight.
“I think I could be persuaded,” she said at last.
“Good.”
Before she could change her mind, he swept her up in his arms and carried her into his bathroom. He didn’t know what the one looked like in the other room, but this one was big enough to hold a dance in and the shower even had a convenient bench built into it.
He stood her by the vanity and very slowly removed each article of clothing, paying careful attention to every area of her body as he exposed it. He kissed his way down her neck and from shoulder to shoulder, drawing a light path with the tip of his tongue before lightly licking the valley between her breasts.
Her breasts! God, he’d never seen such wonderful breasts, round and firm with dusky pink nipples turning a darker shade of rose as he teased them with his tongue. On impulse, he sucked first one then the other into his mouth, tugging on them, grazing them with his teeth as he released them.
Kneeling, he undid the button of her slacks and eased down the zipper, pushing the fabric over her hips, down to her feet. He couldn’t stop himself from smoothing his fingers over the tiny swell of her stomach or the angle of her hips. Her skin felt like the richest satin and her scent, a light floral, was driving all his hormones to charge ahead full speed. She braced herself on his shoulders as she kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the pool of material, then kicked it to the side. She was left standing in just the tiniest lacy blue bikini panties he’d ever seen.
When he took the lace edging in his teeth and dragged it down his eyes nearly popped out of his head. Both times he’d been in bed with her he hadn’t paid enough attention to details, but tonight, that’s what he was all about. Details. Like the fact that she obviously waxed bikini style, with a tempting strip of dark blond curls framing her delicious slit. Holding her hips to steady both her and himself, he drew a line down the wet length, delving in just slightly to tease her clit with the tip of his tongue. Then he did it again.
God! He could do this forever, but he had so much more of her to taste and explore.
“You still have your clothes on,” she pointed out in a shaky voice. “Would you like some help taking them off?”
“I wouldn’t say no to that.”
He rose on legs just slightly unsteady from the desire coursing through him. He forced himself to stand still while she eased the fabric over his shoulders and down his arms. She mimicked what he’d done, peppering his shoulders and chest with soft kisses and pausing long enough to swirl her tongue around his nipples. An involuntary groan slid from him as every lick of her tongue sent a spear of fire straight to his groin.
When she dropped to her knees before him, as he’d done for her, the image was so erotic he was afraid he’d come before she even had a chance to touch him. He had presence of mind to reach into his kit on the vanity and pull out a string of three condoms before he lost his mind altogether.
“Optimistic?” Sam’s voice shook.
“Hopeful.”
She went back to work easing both his slacks and his boxer briefs down at the same time. Like her, he kicked off his shoes, managed to toe off his socks and kicked his slacks and boxers to the side. She danced her fingers down the line of hair that arrowed to his groin, brushing the tips over the thick nest. His balls ached with need and his cock was swollen and throbbing.
Touch me!
He wanted to shout the words, but he forced himself to stand quietly while she explored him. But when she wrapped those slim fingers around his shaft and gave the head a gentle lick he couldn’t swallow the groan. She slid her fingers between his thighs, cupping his sac, while she took the length of him in her mouth.
Jesus!
He rocked back and forth, his shaft sliding in and out of her hot mouth, her satiny lips closing around him like an erotic vise. He knew he had to stop soon or it would be all over, but the sensations that swept through his body at her touch were so addicting he wanted them to go on forever.
“Shower,” he gasped, urging her to her feet.
He reached in and turned it on, testing it until he was satisfied with the temperature. Then he took her hand, helped her inside, put one of the condoms in the soap dish, and took the bottle of scented bodywash the hotel thoughtfully provided. Pouring some into his hand, he worked it up into a thick lather and began applying it to her body.
He was mesmerized by her body, the gentle swell of her stomach, the curve of her hips, the roundness of her breasts. Her arms and legs were graceful as a dancer’s and just as deceiving, their strength belying their delicate appearance. When he had finished with her front he turned her and began the same process with her back. He carefully kneaded each bump of her spine, and massaged the suds into the curve of her buttocks.
Very tentatively he slid his soapy fingers into the crevice between her cheeks, waiting to see if she would pull away from him. She tensed for a moment but then relaxed, braced herself against the wall, legs spread, and leaned back into his touch. He slid his hands around to her front, over her lips and down her stomach to find that hot, wet slit again. If he was hard before, Blake’s dick was like granite now. He ached everywhere with consuming need. Just touching her clit with the tip of his fingers heated his blood and sent electricity to every nerve in his body.
“My turn,” she whispered, turning around.
Her fingers were soothing as she smoothed lather over his tight muscles in slow, teasing strokes. Blake didn’t know how long he could maintain his control, as close to the edge as her touch brought him. He gritted his teeth as she smoothed the soap over his body, swirling it in the hair on his chest and around his hard nipples. The light scrape of her fingernails across the flat, hard buds sent shards of fire straight to his balls and made the vein circling his shaft pulse and throb.
When she knelt before him he wanted to yell stop and plunge himself into her right then. Somewhere he found the tenuous threads of control to keep it together, but he didn’t know for how long. Her strong fingers worked the lather into the muscles of his thighs, up to his groin, and wrapped around his dick until he had to bite his lip hard to keep from coming. Jesus! This woman did things to him, made him feel things, no other woman ever had.
But when she stroked him up and down, her hands slick from the foam, he closed his fingers over her wrist and moved her hand away.
“I’ve only got so much control,” he told her in a hoarse voice.
He urged her to her feet and lifted her to the bench. If he was going to maintain any kind of control, he needed to take her edge off first. Because once he was inside her it would be a race to the finish.
With one of her legs resting on his shoulder, she was completely open to him. He sucked in his breath at the sight of her so pink and ready for him. Massaging her clit with his thumb, he slid two fingers easily into her waiting sex, loving the sound as she inhaled sharply. He cupped her head and held it in place, watching the change of expression.
He began a steady rhythm with his fingers, in and out, her inner walls clutching at him. She leaned back against the wall to steady herself, the heel of her foot digging into his shoulder as he increased the pace of thrust and retreat. She was so hot, so slick, so tight it took his breath away. Another rub with his thumb on her swollen hot button, another deep thrust with his fingers, and he felt the spasms begin inside her sex. He increased his speed, adding another finger.
“That’s it. Come for me, Samantha. Come now.”
She bore down on his hand and in the next second the spasms gripped her. He held her steady in place with his free hand while she rode the other. She was still trembling with aftershocks when he grabbed the condom, rolled it on, and with his hands holding her in place lowered her onto his raging hard-on.
Oh, sweet Jesus!
He saw stars as lightning flashed through his body and her slick walls closed tightly around him. Gritting his teeth to maintain some semblance of control, he pressed her until her back was against the shower wall.
“Hold on tight, darlin’. And don’t let go.”
He wanted to take it slowly, to savor every stroke, linger in that hot well of her body, but by now he was too aroused. Gripping her hips, he drove into her again and again, harder and faster.
“Look at me,” he rasped.
She opened her eyes and he saw such a swirl of emotion in there he nearly lost it. He leaned forward, placed his mouth over hers and slipped his tongue inside. And that was all it took. One more hard thrust and he exploded, the muscles in his back tightening, his cock pulsing as he came again and again and again. And Samantha, despite the fact he’d made her come already, was right there with him, closing around him like a tight, wet fist.
When the last throb, the last spasm had died away, he eased from her. After disposing of the condom, he lifted her off the bench and gently rinsed both of them. He turned off the shower, helped her out, on to the bath mat, and grabbed big, fluffy, warm hotel towels for both of them. He stood her facing him while he dried first her body then his.
Neither of them said a word but both knew something irrevocable had changed between them. He thought he could spend the rest of his life doing this. Being with her. The fantasies he’d carried in his mind all these years paled into comparison with the reality. While she didn’t say anything, he sensed the same feelings in her, only pushed back behind the emotional wall she’d erected. He was pretty damn sure she had no more idea how to deal with it than he did, but by God he was going to find a way.
Just as soon as they got rid of the crazed stalker.
Finally he carried her into the bedroom and tugged the covers back on the bed. When they slid in, he spooned around her, one arm around her cupping a breast, his cock nestled against her bottom. He was just on the edge of falling asleep when she spoke.
“Blake?”
“Uh-huh?”
“You were right. It was a lot better than eating or having a drink.”
He laughed softly, kissed her cheek, and fell into a sleep where he dreamed of a naked Samantha.