I turned to Adam. “Sorry about that.”
He blinked. “Why are you sorry?”
“It’s your birthday and—”
“You defended yourself against Tara’s bullshit, from the impression I got. No one would expect different.”
I nodded, grateful he understood and wasn’t pissed.
Emma sighed. “I think that she heard Blake and Bastien loud and clear. She’ll sulk about it for a few days while she chews on it. But I think she’ll eventually apologize and get her act together now that she knows it’s the only way to keep them in her life. For all her faults, she does care about them.”
Blake didn’t appear convinced of that, but Bastien gave a tight smile.
Turning to me with a long exhale, Blake arched a brow. “Ready to go home?”
Totally.
As we walked down the cobbled path toward Blake’s car, I said, “Tara was right about one thing. I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum.” Even though I’d had the right to know his story, it hadn’t been fair of me.
“Wrong.” He turned me to face him and put his hands on my shoulders. “It was the kick in the ass I needed. I hesitated in telling you for so long because I knew that, despite my best efforts to keep you with me, the truth could make me lose you. Putting me in a situation where I would have lost you if I didn’t tell you was what made me take that chance. And I’m glad I did.” He kissed me until I relaxed against him. “Don’t let Tara fuck with your head or shake your faith in me and what we have, baby. Don’t. Okay?”
I nodded, realizing that was exactly what I’d done, like a damn idiot. “I won’t.”
He kissed me again. “Now let’s go home.”
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.”