Get Your Copy

While Joe checked out her townhouse for threats, Baby gathered the mail from the foyer rug and leafed through the envelopes. Although she couldn’t hear him moving through her home, she was aware of his presence on a level she’d never experienced before.

But for the first time since meeting him, his presence in her life was unwanted. The knowledge of why he was currently checking her second story for bad guys sent her thoughts spiraling back an hour. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. The word seemed to be burned into her retinas. How would she ever stop seeing it? Who had she angered so much that they’d go to such a length?

Bitch.

A shiver raced up her spine. If someone had gotten close enough to do that to Little Red, they’d been close enough to get to Baby. A year ago she wouldn’t have believed that anyone would want to do her physical harm, but she’d been naive.

She hated, absolutely detested with the kind of rage that ate slowly at your soul and burned in your gut like acid, she hated being so scared.  She hated feeling small and defenseless. She hated feeling weak.

How was it she worked out at a gym three times a week, lifting weights no less, and she still felt like a ragdoll? It wasn’t just strong, virile men who made her feel easily over powered, it was men in general. Even men like Bob, the brutish paralegal at the office, who only had six inches on her five foot frame.

“Everything looks okay,” Joe murmured, his voice softer than usual, as if he didn’t want to scare her.

Baby squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before she turned around. Raking her eyes over his powerful frame she wondered why she never felt weak or scared around him?

Sure, he was over a foot taller than her and probably had seventy-five pounds of muscle more than she did. And surely he knew a dozen ways to kill her. But as he stared down at her, she felt nothing but feminine and safe. And those were two things she craved above all others.

Determined to not let the fear and anxiety ruin the rest of her day, she shot him a smile.

“Am I free to move about the cabin?” she quipped.

He nodded and stepped to the side. She strode forward until she stood in front of him, close enough to reach out and touch, to feel the heat rolling off of him.

He tensed, as she’d known he would. He didn’t want her attentions and he’d made that clear. She certainly wasn’t going to force herself on a man, despite what he might think.

“Thank you for checking for bad guys. I appreciate it. Probably more than you know.” She continued forward but his hand closed around her wrist, pulling her back around. Glancing from his hand on her arm to his eyes and back again, she relished his warmth and the tingle that coursed through her.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” he said, his voice softening. “Start at the beginning.”

She nodded her agreement.

“Follow me.”

After tucking the mail in her purse, she headed up the stairs to the second bedroom, which she used as her home office. The colorful cow painting behind her desk hid a wall safe. Joe didn’t say anything as she dialed in the combination and pulled the door open.

“It’s cliché, I know. Safe in the wall behind a painting but I feel very Jane Bond.”

She grinned as she handed over the folder.

If she wasn’t mistaken, his lips twitched. Maybe he wasn’t so uptight after all and there was a sense of humor under the battle armor.

The almost smile faded from his lips and after the second page he put the whole folder on her desk, reached for a tissue from the mother-of-pearl holder on the corner and used it to flip through the letters. By the last one, she detected a full on Joe Catrell frown, but he had his head ducked so she wasn’t sure.

“How long has this been going on?”

He didn’t look at her, rather, went back through the letters.

“Three months.”

“Is this everything?”

“Except for his handy work on Little Red, yes.”

“Phone calls?”

“Yes. Twice. Once at work. Once on my cell. Both calls came from a private number.”

He closed the folder and tossed the tissue into the trash. “And the letters, how do you get them?”

“The first one was on my desk at work. The second—” She rubbed the ache between her eyebrows. “Do you mind if we finish this discussion downstairs? I need to get ready for Girls’ Night.” And normalcy.

She needed to be around people, her favorite people. And she needed wine almost more than she needed to get away from those letters. Stomach turning to a full blown churn, she glanced anxiously at the door.

“Sure,” he said and waved the folder toward the hall.

“They’re always in those envelopes,” she said of the half dozen, plain white envelopes in the back of the folder. As a lawyer, she knew everything was evidence and threw nothing away. “Nondescript. Sometimes they’re in my mail.”

“And the other times?” Joe asked, following her to the kitchen.

“Stuck through the slot sometime after I went to bed. It was waiting for me when I woke up.” It chilled her to admit that, to say the words as if there were a part of everyday conversation. Threats like this probably were part of Joe’s everyday life.

“Have you noticed anyone out of the ordinary? At work or at home? Perhaps a jogger?”

She went to the pantry for snacks and thought back. The truth was she was hyper alert since her mugging. She worried about her friends and family more. And she was doing her best to stay sane but not knowing who was behind this was making her crazy.

“I can’t think of anyone specific.” She saw the cloud of frustration come down across his face like storm shutters. “Before you get upset that I’m obviously not concerned for my safety, know that I have been paying attention. I honestly have.”

As much as it scared her to watch… She closed her eyes. As much as she hated looking over her shoulder, she’d been keeping her eyes and ears open.

He let out a quiet sigh. “All right. I’ll have a guy look into these. Maybe he’s careless and left a useful fingerprint.”

She wrestled with a can of onion dip and he plucked it from her fingers, gave the lid a quick twist and handed it back.