Haynes, K. R. - The Light in Her Eyes [In Her Eyes] (Siren Publishing Classic) (6 page)

The print itself was an abstract. It seemed to represent the depth and the power of their love they held for her. Plus the inscription on the back of the print gave a clear indication of their said love. The artist who painted the original clearly had had love on their mind when they painted it as well. The artist’s own passion and love were clearly visible in the colours used in the painting and within the image itself.

Staring at the print now, Chloe still struggled to come to terms with her disappointment from last night. It was the main reason for her lack of sleep. She couldn’t believe that she had told Randall about her birthday last night. Or why she felt disappointed when he didn’t realise that it was in actual fact her birthday. For some odd reason, Chloe had half excepted Randall to know what the 27
^th
of May meant to her. Seeing the look of surprise cross his face when she told him her reasons for being down at the pub, Chloe realised then she had made a horrible assumption and all but bolted to her car.

She couldn’t even explain the tears that fell from her eyes on the drive back home. Or the crushing feeling she felt in her chest. She didn’t know Jon Randall, didn’t know his story. Yet Chloe felt like she had known him. She felt this pull to him. Like their souls were linked to each other or something.
Or hell, maybe that’s just the lack of sleep talking. Who knows why one feels anything for another?

Hearing a loud, obnoxious knock on her front door startled her from her thoughts. Setting down her favourite coffee mug on the bench beside the coffee machine, Chloe glanced at the clock. Six thirty in the morning. Who the hell would be bothering her at this time of day? Hell, she still had her pyjamas on and had fluffy, pink rabbit slippers adorning her feet for Christ’s sake. She was so not dressed for company right now.

She unlocked the front door and swung it wide open. She was instantly shocked at who stood on the other side of the door. Jon Randall. He stood on her front porch with her morning paper in his hand and a big, stupid grin on his face. His eyes roamed freely over her body, taking in her outfit. Tugging her silk robe closer to her body and stepping back to partially close the door, Chloe stood behind it so only her shoulders and head were visible to him.

“What do you want?” she asked him straight out.

He had the nerve to chuckle at her. “What, no ‘good morning,’ Chloe?” he asked her as he leaned against the doorway, his gorgeous sky-blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

“No, so what do you want?”

“Nothing. I was in the area and thought I’ll drop by and see you.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “My ass, you were just in the area, Jon. You do realise it’s six thirty in the morning—on a Sunday, no less—don’t you?”

Chapter Ten

Randall loved hearing Chloe call him Jon. No one these days called him by his first name. Everyone just called him Randall. It had been a long time since anyone called him Jon. He liked it. He liked it a hell of a lot. Smiling at her, he uttered, “Well, being that I can’t see your ass, sweetheart, as you’re hiding it behind that big green door of yours, you’ll just have to take my word on the matter. Won’t you?” Raising his hand, he held out her morning newspaper to her. “Your paper, sweetheart,” he said with a wink.

She snorted at his answer and took the paper from his hand. Out of the corner of his eye he
watched as Chloe took a few steps forward. Following her line of sight, he saw what had captured her attention. Lying near the edge of her porch was a rose, a dead one at that, with a letter attached to it. Chloe visibly shuddered before she turned away from him and scurried down the hallway and into a room he presumed was the kitchen. He wanted to suggest to her that the rose could be a belated Valentine’s gift, but going by her reaction to the now dead rose that might not be the case at all.

Randall bent down and
retrieved the dead rose and letter. Slowly he unfolded the letter. Uneasiness settled low in his stomach as he scanned the contents of the letter. His heart stopped beating in his chest for a second when he read the words
Die, bitch.
What kind of gutless prick would leave a threatening letter like this for Chloe? And that was
if
it was meant for Chloe and not the previous tenant who had occupied the house prior to Chloe moving in.
Stepping inside and closing the door behind him, Randall followed the direction Chloe had scurried away in. He still couldn’t believe that someone had left a letter like that for her. The dead rose had to be symbolic. He knew it. A normal person would assume it was a random act. He, however, knew better than that. Ten years on the police force had taught him many lessons. One being nothing happened without a reason behind it. Nothing was random, in other words.

Rounding the corner, Randall came to a complete stop upon entering the tiny kitchen. Chloe sat huddled up on a kitchen chair. Her feet were up on the seat. She had her arms wrapped around her knees. Her head lay buried on top of them. Randall couldn’t see her face, but he could tell she was crying by the way her shoulders shook.

Pulling out a chair from the table next to hers he sat down. Realising he still clutched the dead rose and letter, he got up and searched the cupboard drawers until he found a plastic snap bag and popped the letter and dead rose inside. Evidence to take back to the station for analyses to see if any finger prints or anything else could be lifted from them. He highly doubted the lab techs would be able to find anything, but it was worth a shot at least.

Taking his seat again, reaching out, he clasped his hand around hers. In a gruff voice he spoke to her. “Chloe, look at me.”

She slowly lifted her watery gaze up to him. Her shock was still evident on her paled-out face. Randall wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. He wanted to hold her and protect with everything he had to offer her. The sight of seeing Chloe swiping at the moisture leaking from her eyes with the back of her hand had his heart aching for her. This is not the Chloe he had come to know. This version of her seemed beaten down, defeated even, and that was so unlike her. Chloe had always been a strong, fiery-spirited woman, which meant something else was going on here. Something he wasn’t aware of.

“Where is it? Where’s the rose?” Even her voice sounded off to him.

“I’ve bagged it up as evidence. I’ll take it back to the station later today to see if we can lift some prints from them.”

Chloe visibly shuddered at hearing the word evidence, Randall knew then there was more to this dead rose and letter than meets the eye.

“So it’s not a practical joke then or a mistake like I thought,” she whispered to him.

“What do you mean?”

“I hoped it was just a mistake, like a neighbourhood kid playing a prank. I guess not.”

“What are you talking about, Chloe? What prank?”

Chloe closed her eyes and dropped her head back down onto her knees and didn’t answer him. Randall had had enough of this bullshit and running around crap from her. She was going to see his Dominant side whether she wanted to or not. He had to make her talk. He needed all the answers to his questions and then some. And he needed to get a better understanding of this unknown threat against her. One he knew was clearly evident if the letter was to be believed.

Placing a finger under her chin, Randall lifted her head up. “Chloe, I want your full honesty when you answer my questions. Are we clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now tell me, Chloe, what has he left you previously?”

“Voice messages,” she whispered quietly to him. “He left threatening messages on my answering machine. They started the night you pulled me over.” She hesitated slightly as she stumbled over her next words. “His only words were, ‘Die, bitch.’”

“How many messages have you received so far from him?”

“Six, if you include the rose we found this morning.”

“So let me get this straight. Some sick fuck has been threatening you with messages since the night I pulled you over, which might I add was a few weeks ago now, and you’re only just mentioning this to me now.”

Randall pushed back on his chair and paced around Chloe’s tiny box of a kitchen, as his anger and rage became a rising beast within him. “Christ, Chloe. You should have told me about this before now.” He stopped pacing when he remembered her phone call to him. The one he had been a bastard on. He cursed to himself as he stared over at her. “You called me at work two days after receiving the first message.

“Yes,” she whispered softly to him.

“Did you call me that day to report the message, or was it for a different reason you called me?”

Chloe rose from her chair then, Randall recognised immediately she didn’t like the way this conversation was going. She was hiding something from him and he would be damned if she would withhold anything from him anymore. “Answer me, Chloe. Did you call me to report the messages or did you call me for another reason that day?”

“I honestly don’t know why I called you that day, Jon. It wasn’t like you were very receptive to me calling you up that day. Remember?”

Anger flushed through him fast and furious as he turned to face her. She was seriously pissing him off with her attitude and her cryptic answers. Randall narrowed his eyes at her as he spoke to her. “How could I not remember, Chloe?” he grounded out to her, “You were the one who terminated the call on me, remember? You called me but failed to tell me the fucking reason for your call.”

Breathing in through his nose, Randall tried to clamp down on the angry rising steadily within him. He paced around the tiny arse of a kitchen, trying to keep his cool. The Dominant part of him wanted to throw her over his knee right here, right now and reinforce the importance of her own safety. He wanted to make her ass blush red with his bare hand, until she understood that her safety wasn’t something she could disregard so flippantly. Another part of him wanted to make sweet, tender love to her. Too feel her body coming apart underneath his as he poured his essences into her. Randall wanted to do all these things and more. But he couldn’t do a damn one of them. She wasn’t his. Something he needed to keep reminding himself of.

How much longer could he deny how much he wanted and needed Chloe in his life and in his arms? Never before had a woman gotten so under his skin, like the way Chloe did and always had.

With his fists clenched at his sides, Randall paced over to the doorway. He stopped abruptly at the framed print hanging on the wall near the doorway. After all this time, she still had it. Chloe still had a piece of him hanging up in her kitchen. Did she even know it? Randall wished then he knew why Chloe didn’t recognise him. Or was it just a pretence she played out for him to deny him what he really wanted most of all—
her?

God, he had to get out of here before he did something really stupid like kiss her or chastise her. Crossing the kitchen in three long strides, Randall snatched up the bag with the dead rose and letter in it. He then stormed out of her kitchen and made sure he slammed her front door on his way out of her house.

* * * *

Chloe stared at Randall’s disappearing form.

He was angry with her. And he probably had every right to be.
She hadn’t exactly been truthful when she answered his questions. She wanted to be. God only knew how much she wanted to open up to him and tell him everything he needed to know. A part of her, a huge part of her, just wanted to push Randall and make him just as angry as she was.

Deep down, Chloe feared these malicious threats she had been receiving lately had the ability to come true. She didn’t want them to come true. Even just knowing there was a good chance that someone was stalking her left her feeling unnerved. And the last thing she needed to be feeling right now was unnerved. Not when she was battling with this explosive connection she had going on with Randall.

Ugh! The man made her insane sometimes. God help her if he ever got her between the sheets. There was no doubt in Chloe’s mind the fireworks they would create between the sheets would outrival any New Year’s Eve celebration.

Pouring a cup of coffee and chugging it down quickly, Chloe headed for the bathroom. She was in need of a long shower and a run. She needed a run to clear her mind and to settle her nerves back down. Nerves brought on by the letter and the dead rose, and by Randall himself. The man was impossible sometimes, she thought while stripping out of her silk robe and matching pyjamas before stepping underneath the warmth of the water.

Chapter Eleven

It had been two weeks since Chloe had last seen Randall. After he stormed out of her house that Sunday morning after the dead rose incident, Chloe hadn’t seen hide or tail of him. She had dropped by the pub a few times hoping to see him, to apologise. He was never there, or if he was he avoided her like the plague.

Had she finally screwed up the best thing that could’ve happened to her? She hoped not.

She missed him. Even though she had no right to miss him, considering she barely knew him. Yet here she sat at the pub nursing a glass of wine, sitting at the same table Randall had found her sitting at on the night of her birthday. Staring out onto the empty dance floor, remembering how good it felt being in his arms and swaying to the music.