Blood Kiss (Savage Security Series Book 1) (10 page)

Mike pulled into the parking lot at Savage Securities and looked over at Alisha. She’d been quiet most of the drive. She’d kept looking in the side mirror and pulled down the visor a couple times to stare into the mirror. He knew what she was doing. She was looking for a tail. There wasn’t one to see. He’d been doing the same thing. No one followed them to his place of work.

Mike turned off the truck and placed his hand on her knee. “Hey, you’re safe with me,” he assured her. He hated that she was scared. He’d seen too many lives destroyed in his lifetime, and he was going to do whatever it took to protect her. He’d failed his sister, but he wasn’t going to fail her.

She placed her hand on top of his and noticed the difference between them. Her hands were tiny and smooth. His hands were large, rough and she imagined very deadly, but that didn’t scare her. It gave her hope. “I know,” she replied, glancing up at him. “Let’s do this.” She removed her hand from his and opened the truck door.

She hopped down and stretched, taking a deep breath as she looked at the building before her. She held her hand to her forehead to shield herself from the sunlight. Nestled in an office park, surrounded by other buildings, it resembled any other place of business. The building’s walls reflected the light that shone upon them. It was too bright for her to make out how many floors the building had, but she figured around five or six.

“This where you spend your days?” she asked as Mike came around the front of the truck.

He slipped his hand into hers and led the way. He chuckled and said, “My office is the world. This is base camp.” They walked to the building’s entrance. He held his badge against the sensor. It beeped, and he pulled open the door. She walked in first.

The main lobby was nice. In the center of the lobby was a fountain with heron sculptures standing in the water. A few sofas and chairs encircled coffee tables in the open space.

Mike pointed to the right of the fountain and said, “We’re on the first floor.” Mike led her to another set of doors and held his badge against the sensor. The door beeped, and they walked into another sitting room. A ‘Savage Securities’ sign hung behind the receptionist’s desk. Contemporary chairs and sitting tables filled the void between the entrance and the desk.

“This is where the magic happens?” she asked, turning in a circle and taking it all in. Some abstract art hung on the walls. There were a few cases that displayed military memorabilia.

Not the kind of magic his mind instantly went to. “You’d die of boredom. A bunch of men crossing their arms and grunting all day. I’m sure the excitement of little kiddoes is much more to your liking.”

He couldn’t imagine her in his world. She didn’t belong there. She belonged somewhere safe and beautiful. That was why he did what he did, to maintain the ‘safe bubble’ that so many took for granted. He understood that people didn’t even know what they didn’t even know. There was no way that she could even begin to fathom his past, and that was okay. He wanted her in his future.

Alisha wasn’t so sure about that. She could watch Mike all day and never get bored.

“Follow me,” Mike waved his hand and led her down a hallway. She tried to read the signs posted on the doors as they walked past, but most of them were acronyms. She had no idea what went on behind those closed doors, and she didn’t bother asking.

Mike stopped at the door labeled LAB, put his key card to the sensor, and opened the door. Lab tables and science paraphernalia filled the room. Mike went to one of the tables and set down the box of crazy. “I’m going to check these for fingerprints and see if we get any hits.”

He pulled out the box of chocolate caramels and set them on the table, along with the handwritten note that the stalker had placed under her windshield wiper. “We’ll start with these. The handwritten note will definitely have his prints on it. Then we’ll cross-check them with the prints we lift from the chocolates box. If we have a match, we know we have his prints.”

Alisha nodded and looked into the box of creepy gifts. She understood why the police hadn’t tried to lift fingerprints from her items. No crime had been committed. Plus, they didn’t have the money or manpower to look into such things, but it still bothered her. Weren’t the police supposed to keep people safe? Protect them from danger? She didn’t want a confrontation with the person stalking her. She wasn’t foolish enough to imagine overpowering a grown male if a confrontation did occur. She wanted him stopped before he did anything to her.

As she watched Mike get the prints and upload them to the computer system, she couldn’t believe how lucky she’d been to run into him at the gun store. It saddened her that his sister had been killed, but it helped her understand his motivation. He was personally invested in helping her, and she could never repay him for that.

She couldn’t deny her physical attraction to him and combined with his generous nature, there was no way that she could withstand him. A sliver of worry panged her heart as she acknowledged that his actions could have more to do with guilt over his sister’s murder than feelings for her. It was clear that he was attracted to her; she felt it in his touch and in his kiss. She just hoped the attraction lasted after they dealt with her stalker.

The computer beeped, and Mike’s eyes locked on her. The warmth in his gaze and the heat from his touch warmed her so completely that she felt as if he’d melted her, like chocolate warmed by a toasted marshmallow.

He gently wrapped his hand around her arm. “Come here,” he said, his voice gruff and sexy. He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped an arm around her waist. “We have a match.” He looked into her eyes and felt as if he were looking at an angel. He’d lived in the belly of man’s wickedness for so long that sometimes it was hard to believe that good people still existed. He had no intention of letting her go when this was over.

Mike clicked the mouse, and an image and police report popped up on the screen. “It looks like someone has a criminal record. Do you recognize him?” He studied her face as she studied the screen. Her eyebrows pulled down as she stared at the man.

It took her a moment, but she finally recognized the guy in the mug shot. His sandy-blond hair was scraggly now, but his blue eyes looked the same. The name under the picture said Timothy Conway. “I know him. He works at Fancy’s Chocolates. I just call him Tim when I’m in there.” She had a hard time believing that he’d stalk her. He was always polite when she went in there, and she’d never noticed him checking her out. He flirted shamelessly with the college students that came into the store. “Did his prints show up on the note too?”

“No, just the box of chocolates.”

“What’s he done?” She scanned the computer screen. She wasn’t sure if digging through the county police records was completely legal, but she didn’t want to ask Mike and forfeit deniability. Although she was pretty certain ignorance wasn’t a solid defense.

Mike ran his fingers up her spine and stopped on her neck. He gently rubbed her tense muscles and felt her relax into him. “He’s been arrested for drug possession. Mr. Conway also has a D.U.I.”

Alisha turned a little in Mike’s lap so that she could look into his face. “How often do you do background checks on people?” she asked curiously.

He noticed the slight twitch under her eye and chuckled. She felt the laugh rumble in his chest. “Are you really asking me if I’ve done a background check on you?” he asked. She was adorable. He could tell by the innocence in her eyes that there was nothing in her history that she needed to be ashamed of. Innocence and genuine light that bursts from a person’s face didn’t occur once certain lines had been crossed. The worst thing she’d probably done was speed, and that was probably within five miles of the speed limit.

“Have you?” she asked, starting to worry about how much he’d dug into her background. Had he asked her questions that he already knew the answers too? Did he already know about her parents and play ignorant when she talked about them? Suddenly she felt violated. She didn’t like the idea of someone combing through her banking accounts and private life.

“No, but you’re making me curious.” He eyed her with a smirk on his face. “What exactly are you afraid of me finding?”

“I don’t have anything to hide,” she said confidently with a raised brow. “What about you?” She placed her finger over his heart. “What would I find if I ran a background check on you?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

He laughed again, this time pulling her into him. He planted a kiss on her cheek. “You’d find absolutely nothing.”

She pulled away, still sitting on his lap, and stared into his face. The scars and tattoos told her that if she were to read an account of his life that she’d be struck silent. “So there’s nothing on you? You don’t exist in any database?”

“I exist, and my record is as pure as freshly fallen snow. What about yours?” He tilted his head and examined her face. “Shall we type your name in and see what pops up?”

“Go ahead,” she replied with a shrug. “You’ll just snoop the next time you have a chance anyway. I might as well be here so I can hear how impressed you are with my sterling record. And mine hasn’t been altered by Uncle Sam,” she added haughtily.

“I’m calling your bluff.” He punched in ‘Alisha Woods’ with one hand and then leaned back in the chair. Several ‘Alisha Woods’ popped up from various cities. He found the correct one and clicked. Her driver’s license popped up, and her record was clean. “Wow,” he whistled. “Not even a moving violation or parking ticket.” He looked at her with mock impression.

She gave him a snarky smile and said, “Sorry to disappoint. Hope you like the good girls, because that’s what you’re getting with me.”

“Baby, I knew you were a good girl the moment you stepped into the gun store.” He ran his fingertips down her arm and lightly pressed his lips to hers. His tongue traced along the seam and slipped inside on her moan. Pulling her closer to him, he slipped his hand under her shirt and brushed her soft skin with his fingers. Her skin reacted to his touch, goose bumps pebbling with excitement. He felt her chest expand with each breath and traced his fingertips along her ribs towards her breast. She wiggled in his lap, readjusting herself and he knew she felt his desire. He wanted to act on it, but instead he pulled away.

She was special. His feelings for her were special. And his place of work was definitely not special. This wasn’t the place for intimacy, especially since there was a camera watching them.

“Let’s do another and confirm which set of fingerprints belongs to our stalker.” He helped her stand from his lap and then he stood. He pulled out the note that accompanied the Beanie Boo. “Having a third source for our prints will help confirm which fingerprint is the stalkers.”

Alisha nodded. It seemed amazing that they could have the stalker’s fingerprints but not know who he was. How was she supposed to find out? If he wasn’t in the system, then having his prints didn’t really matter. Was she supposed to feel better knowing that he didn’t have a criminal record?

Mike found multiple matching prints and chose one to compare with the other two he’d already run. He uploaded it and pulled her in for another kiss as the computer ran. When it finished, it beeped.

Mike looked at the screen. “It’s a match, but he isn’t in the system.” He looked at her, wishing he had better news to tell her.

“We still don’t know who he is,” she stated.

“That’s right,” Mike replied. “But we do know that when we find him, we can link him to these ‘gifts’.” He watched her nod, but she was a hundred miles away. He leaned against the table and pulled her to his body and gently stroked her back.

Being in Mike’s arms was heaven. He smelled so good, and his hands knew how to work her body to relieve her stress. But the truth still remained. No matter how good he could make her feel, she still had a stalker, and she had no clue who he was.

Pacey parked a street over from Alisha’s house and casually walked towards her home. He couldn’t help but wonder if he would soon be calling it ‘their’ house. When he first saw her place, he’d been impressed. It had been a lifelong fantasy of his to live in such comfort and luxury. He knew he could enjoy long days cuddling with her in front of the fireplace.
Would they conceive their children on a rug before a roaring fire?

He popped a Tic Tac into his mouth and tongued it, rubbing the sweet nub against the top of his mouth.
Is that how her nipple would feel?
A hard nub for him to suck and tease. He needed to stop that train of thought. He couldn’t get caught walking around with a raging boner. The people of a classy neighborhood like this would probably find that detestable.

So instead of thinking about Alisha, he focused on the beauty of fall. The autumn foliage brightened the yards. Colorful leaves dangled like ornaments and crunched underfoot. The scents and colors of fall always reminded him of his childhood. Those had been wonderful days. He’d spent the days with his mother as she homeschooled him. They’d picnic in the yard and canoe on the lake. Sometimes they’d walk through the woods to their ‘special spot’ and they’d read, her leaning against a tree and him with his head in her lap. She’d read her romance novels while he devoured all kinds of non-fiction and scientific books. His childhood had been so peaceful. No strife or conflict interrupted his days because he always did as Mother wished.

He clenched his fist in his jacket pocket in frustration. He’d loved being with Mother, but now, as an adult, he realized that she’d only homeschooled him to control him and to keep him pure. He knew she’d done it in love, but she’d stifled him. And what really frustrated him was that she refused to acknowledge that. He often wondered how his life would be different if she hadn’t homeschooled him during his elementary school days. Would he be a doctor or an astronaut now? He could have been something amazing. The world would know his name. But now he was forced to admit that he would never reach his potential, and it all started when his mother wouldn’t let him go to school with the rest of the kids.

It wasn’t until middle school that he wore her down. After years of begging, she finally enrolled him in the public school. He’d been thrilled the day she took him to the Goodwill. He usually wore hand-me downs from people in his church, so to purchase school clothes was an incredible first for him.

As he wandered the store, looking through all the aisles of clothes, he’d fallen in love with a rock band t-shirt. Fortunately Mother didn’t know who they were. She bought the t-shirt, and he wore it with pride. He still had that t-shirt somewhere in the back of his closet. He would never get rid of it. It was a symbol of his first breath of independence.

On the first day of school, he’d been excited and scared. He wanted to make friends and be like everyone else. But that didn’t happen. Instead, he had a front row seat to the good life everyone else enjoyed. He watched them in their cliques and realized that he’d never be able to infiltrate their gangs. He’d missed out on those early years when kids could still be nice and accepting. He’d tried to be friendly, but they seemed repulsed by him.

At night he’d look in the mirror and wonder what was so hideous about him that people shunned him? He didn’t have a deformity that could possibly scare people, and he didn’t have a communicable disease, but he did have a nickname. “Pasty Pacey.” Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could still hear them chanting, “Pasty Pacey.”

Pacey turned the corner and walked down the sidewalk that ran along Alisha’s house. When he came to the tree protection area beside her backyard, he stepped into the woods and essentially disappeared. He went to his hiding spot and popped another Tic Tac into his mouth.

He looked around, assessing the area and looking for neighbors. All seemed quiet, so he walked, hidden by the privacy hedge. When he came to the fence, he gripped the top and hefted his body over the top, then jumped to the ground. He snuck quickly up to the door on her patio. He glanced around and noticed that his note to her in the soil was gone. She’d cleaned it up. He hated that he broke one of her pots last night, but accidents happen. He figured he might as well make lemonade out of lemons, or something like that, so he’d left her a message in the soil.  Pacey wondered how she felt when she read it. Did she feel guilty for cheating on him with the dumb oaf? Had she wondered how he’d known?

He scrunched down and cursed. He shuffled his feet as he tried to peer into her house through the window. She’d started keeping her blinds drawn at all times, and it really pissed him off. This made it nearly impossible for him to catch a glimpse of her in the evening as she roamed about.

Pacey tapped on the glass and listened. Forrest barked from a distance. He waited to see if the barking got louder. He tapped again, this time with a little more force. Forrest’s yipping bark answered, but did not come closer. Forrest was in his crate.

Pacey didn’t understand how Alisha could crate Forrest all day. Didn’t she know that was caging him? Restraining him like a prisoner? Pacey’s heart rate increased as his thoughts turned angrier. His mother had essentially caged him in his developmental years, not allowing anything she disapproved of into his world.

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. Alisha only crated Forrest when she had to, when she wasn’t home. He could forgive her for trying to stay safe. But Pacey knew that if Forrest was crated, it meant the house was empty and the motion detectors were activated.

Pacey took a deep breath and thought about his predicament. He had to get inside. He wanted to see what was going on in her life. Had that dumb oaf been there? She’d never be able to defend herself against a brute like him.

Pacey glanced around and noticed the wrought iron potting bench with three shelves. He studied the shelves, placing his hand on them and jiggling them. They were sturdy. If he stood on the top shelf, he could be at her bedroom window. He hadn’t noticed motion detectors upstairs.

He moved a few pots from the shelves and placed them on the patio table. Then he sat on the potting cart and twisted around until he was on his knees. His heart raced with adrenaline. He didn’t want to look down and psych himself out, so he focused on the shelves before him. He gripped an edge of the shelf and pulled himself to standing.

Nerves jittered through him as he realized what a foolish plan this was, but nothing was going to stop him. He gripped the top of the potting cart and stepped onto a shelf. Doubt nearly delayed him when the potting bench shifted slightly. His muscles bunched as he gripped the shelves. Sweat beaded along his forehead. He’d never been allowed to climb trees as a child because it was too dangerous. He chuckled at the thought of Mother seeing him now. She’d burst a vein.

He stretched and managed to grasp the gutter. He was a man. He could conquer his fears. As long as he didn’t put too much pressure on the gutter, it would hold and he wouldn’t fall. He used the gutter for stability and stepped up another shelf. From this height, he could peer into her bedroom. Her queen-sized bed was neatly made and no clothes littered the floor. He appreciated that. She would make a good housekeeper.

He gripped the window sill and tried to push up the window. He cursed under his breath when the window didn’t move. He didn’t risk his life climbing up the potting cart to fail. After several moments of jimmying it, the window moved. A tiny slit formed between the window and the window sill. He nudged his fingers into the opening. He grunted and pushed the window up, inhaling slowly as he focused on the task at hand. He stretched his arms and gripped the window frame, then slid one foot to the sill. He refused to look down. Instead, he chanted “Alisha” in his head. Then he moved his body so that his foot went inside and he straddled the window frame, one leg in and one leg out. He exhaled and rested his head on the frame, thankful that he hadn’t fallen.

He slid inside the room and stretched. His sense of accomplishment bolstered him as he wandered happily through her bedroom. Forrest made a racket from the first floor, but the dog would not be a problem.

Pacey stepped up to her dresser drawers and pulled open a drawer. He was disappointed when he saw t-shirts. He wanted the good stuff. He closed that drawer and pulled open another one. He was rewarded and felt his blood rush south. Fancy bras with perky cups lined the drawer. He lifted out a black one with sheer lace and tiny beadwork. He rubbed it against his cheek. Her pink nipples would look amazing wrapped in this package of lace and beads. He gently folded the bra together, stuffing one cup into the other, and shoved it into his jacket pocket. He had plans for that piece of lingerie.

He opened the drawer below the bras and found the panties. He caressed the lingerie. Those tiny articles of clothing had been more intimate with her than he had. Pacey planned on changing that. His heart raced as he imagined her sprawled out on his bed with him sliding the sexy panties slowly down her legs. He felt woozy, imagining their first time. His blood truly had headed south, and he pressed his erection against the drawer. The sweet pressure had him moaning when he noticed a lacey pair of black undies. They matched the bra. He gripped the undies in his hand and rubbed them over his crotch. His heart thundered in his chest, and he needed to lie down. He plopped onto her bed, his head landing in the pile of decorative pillows. He pressed the undies against his erection and started rubbing with enthusiasm. The pleasure and excitement of being in her room and on her bed was too much. He blew his wad within seconds. He’d have to work on that if he wanted to please her. He would need to take his time so she could enjoy him as much as he enjoyed her.

He stood up from the bed and looked in the mirror that hung above her dresser. He was flush from the afterglow of his orgasm and he was proud of himself. He gave himself a Cheshire cat smile. It took some real stones to climb that potting bench, and he’d done it. He’d do it again for a little taste of her life. He shoved the black undies into the pocket with the bra. He’d hold onto them so she could model them for him when they were finally together.

Pacey wandered into her bathroom. Everything was nice and neat.
Did women realize what a turn-on that was?

He couldn’t help himself. He opened her medicine cabinet. The typical medicine cabinet stuff was in there: Band-Aids, ibuprofen, contact lens stuff, and a round, plastic container. He grabbed the pink container and flipped open the lid. Tiny, numbered pills formed a circle in the round container.

A pang of disappointment gripped him as he realized what he was holding. “Birth control,” he muttered to himself. Rage simmered in his heart. With each heartbeat the rage intensified and traveled through his body until his fingers twitched and his feet jittered as he paced in a circle.
Was she fucking the dumb oaf?

Pacey gripped the pink container in his hand, trying to crush it the way it crushed his heart. He roared when it failed to crumple in his hand, so he pulled off the lid and threw both pieces at the mirror. They bounced back and landed on the floor. In a rage he grabbed the perfume bottle from the counter and hurled it at mirror. The mirror cracked. Lines splintered out from the point of impact.

He stalked off to the dresser drawers that contained her bras and undies. In his rage induced fit, he tossed the lingerie around the room in a frenzied haze. He screamed and pressed his hands to his temples, then bent at the waist and burst into tears. His pure Alisha wasn’t pure. Someone had surely spoiled her, but he tried to collect himself. He tried to rein in his emotions and calm his thundering heart. He could forgive her for her transgressions. She hadn’t realized that he was her beloved.

Pacey stood straight again and looked in the mirror above the dresser. He hated what he saw in the reflection. He despised his receding hairline and was disgusted by the beginning of a spare tire around his waist.
How would he stack up against her other lovers?
His shoulders heaved as his tears flowed again. He told himself that they could work through this. He just had to have faith.

When his emotions cooled, he glanced around at the mess he’d made. In a rush, he grabbed the lingerie and shoved everything back into the drawers. She’d never have to know about his interlude here. But he realized now that his original timeline was out of the question. She’d forced his hand with her lascivious lifestyle. He needed to rescue her from herself.

He trudged to the window and looked one last time around her bedroom. He had to go home and plan. Everything had to be just right.