SEALed With Love (DiCarlo Brides book 2) (The DiCarlo Brides) (12 page)

She smiled when she saw him. “Okay, I have a little time. Wendy, can you make sure the room is ready for the next guest?”

“Of course.”

Joel followed her into the office and shut the door, giving them some privacy, though there was a big window in the door, allowing her to keep an eye on everything in the reception area. Or in this case, preventing her from the kind of privacy he would have preferred. There was a set of blinds she could lower, but he’d never seen her use them. She took her seat behind the desk, but he stayed standing on the other side, ignoring the nearby chair.

“What’s going on?” Her smile was gone now as she read the seriousness on his face.

“I checked your email.” He didn’t know how to ease into it.

She looked wary and unhappy. “He wrote me, didn’t he?”

“Yes. I tried tracking the email, but he sent it from one of the resort’s WiFi networks.”

All color left in her face drained out and she blinked in surprise. “He sent it from the resort? He’s been inside, watching me?”

Joel came around, crouched beside her and took her hand. “We’d already figured he was.”

“Yes, but knowing for sure. Knowing he could be watching me even now…” She looked into the spa’s reception area. “He could have come in here, even gotten a reflexology treatment, and I wouldn’t know it was him.” Her breathing began to hitch and she held her hands out, palms up. “My hands are tingling and I’m light headed.”

He squeezed her hands—they were tiny, such small things compared to his, and cold. She shivered and he rubbed her hands. “Calm down. I know it’s scary. Hang on. We’re going to find him.” When she wouldn’t meet his gaze, he reiterated, “We’re going to find him and I’m going to
stop
him.”

“How do you know that? We still don’t know who he is.”

“I’ll figure it out, baby. Don’t worry. Hold on, okay. Slow, deep breaths. There we go.” Joel had learned a slew of obscure skills in his days as a SEAL, but nothing had prepared him for his shear panic whenever tears appeared in her eyes. One would think that after several of these panic attacks, he would become used to the phenomenon, but he doubted he ever would. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. He’s going to make a mistake, Sage, and when he does, we’ll catch him.”

“I know, I know.” She kept repeating this phrase as she fought to bring herself back under control—something she managed in only five minutes, which was a real feat for her.

“Feeling better?” Joel asked in relief when she was breathing more normally.  He tried not to think about the fact that he’d called her baby. Had she noticed his slip?

“Yes. I’ll be fine.” She removed her hands from his grasp and he realized he had still been holding them. “I need to read it.”

He shook his head. If the fact that the email existed had freaked her out this badly, there was no way he wanted her to see it. “No, you don’t. I already deleted it from your inbox. I have a copy for my files.”

Sage shook her head. “No, I need to read it.  He might have said something that I’ll recognize as a clue. I have to face this head on or I’ll always let him intimidate me.” She put a hand to her stomach, as she often did when she was nervous or upset.

Though he disagreed with her decision, Joel was proud she had the gumption to make it and pulled up the email on his phone. He kept a hand on her knee as she read through it several times.

She was silent for a long moment. “He watches me with my sisters and he doesn’t think they’re good enough for me. What if he hurts one of them? I couldn’t stand it.”

“You do spend a lot of time with them,” Joel pointed out. “And you’re never alone. He’s not become aggressive yet. Relax, I’m not going to let any of you get hurt.” The real question was how to keep that promise when the stalker kept managing to cover his tracks?

“Okay, let’s try something a little different.”

Sage gave Joel a disbelieving look. “We’ve been training for an hour. Don’t you ever stop?” She was exhausted and knew she would be sore the next day.

“What? Are you too tired to try it one more time?” He kicked the workout mat into the corner of his spare room so it nudged up against the weight bench.

He’d thrown down the gauntlet, and the light of mischief in his eyes confirmed it. Sage was unable to let the implied dare pass her by—even though she was worn out from a full day of work and their long self-defense training session. “I can manage another round.”

“Good.” He grabbed her wrist, pulled her back against his chest and wrapped her in his muscled arms, pinning hers to her torso. “Free yourself.”

And what would be my motivation here?
This was a new tactic, and one she was afraid she might enjoy a little too much. He smelled of cologne and fresh male sweat with that tang of musk that seemed to be all him. He was a foot taller and easily had a hundred pounds on her—all of it pure muscle. Considering the fact that he’d been treating the training session as all business, and touching her only in the most perfunctory manner most of the time, she was taken by surprise at the move.

“I’ve got your arms pinned. Try to get away,” he prompted her when she didn’t react right away.

“I might hurt you.” Sage couldn’t stomach the thought of causing someone pain—especially him.

“You’re supposed to hurt me.” His voice sounded amused, as though he didn’t think she could manage. “If you do, that will prove I’ve done my job right.”

Wanting to show him she had learned a few things, she scraped the heel of her shoe down his leg, stepped on his insole, and tried to kick his knee—a point he said was vulnerable—but couldn’t bring herself to do anything that might hurt him for longer than a couple of minutes so it was half-hearted. Her arms were well and truly pinned in front of her, and she couldn’t get a shot at his groin.

“Can’t do it?” His voice was full of taunting.

“Give me a second—you’re twice my size.”

“Your attacker might be twice your size. Do you think he’ll give you a chance to think about what you’re going to do?”

Sage tried to fight out of his arms for a moment, then went limp. When he fumbled in surprise, she liberated an arm enough to dig a sharp elbow in his ribs, then twisted and positioned a knee at his groin just enough to be uncomfortable, but hopefully not enough to hurt. “Once I got you here, you’d be doubled over and I’d follow up with,” she ran the heel of her hand at his nose in slow motion, stopping with only a tap. “Only with a whole lot more force.”

“Not too bad. Your elbow is seriously sharp. Do you use a whet stone or something?” He rubbed the ribs where she’d hit him, though she hadn’t put her full energy behind it. “And while I appreciate you not taking those particular blows, make sure you actually hit the other guy, okay? Do you have any idea how much force you need to break a guy’s nose?”

She grinned and pushed back the curly tendrils of hair escaping her elastic. “Actually, yes, I do.”

His brows winged up on his bare forehead and he grabbed their water bottles. “This I gotta hear.”

“It’s been a while, but back in high school this guy thought it would be funny to tease the veggie-geek.” She smirked at the memory. “We called him raccoon eyes until he graduated the next year.” Harrison had first berated her for taking the guy on when he was much bigger, then given her props for causing damage. He’d been primed in the following weeks, watching for any retribution, but if the guy had planned to retaliate, Sage never heard about it.

“Nice. I bet he never bothered you again.” Joel sat beside her on the weight bench, which had been shifted against the wall of his apartment’s spare room.

“No.” Sage sighed as she thought of her dateless high school years. “And neither did anyone else. Harrison was glad, as it meant he didn’t have to keep guys away from me, but it might have been nice if I hadn’t scared them quite so much.” She told herself it must have been that they were scared of her, because the alternative was a little too painful—even with all of the years since she graduated.

Joel gave one of her curls a little tug. “You’re such a tiny thing; it’s hard to believe you managed to scare away a school full of guys just by being capable of defending yourself.” He grinned in a way she rarely saw. “In fact, I kind of like it.”

“Really? You wouldn’t have felt weird going out with a girl who beat up your friend/cousin/brother/fill in the blank? Because everyone in that school was connected to everyone else somehow or other.”

His expression turned knowing. “The rough, pampered life of a millionaire’s daughter.”

Sage snorted. “Yeah, so pampered my mom let me sleep in clear until five-thirty on school days before sending me out to do some weeding before breakfast.” Her mother had refused to let her live the easy life her father offered. In hind sight, Sage was grateful for it. “But what’s with the comments about being pampered? That’s completely ridiculous.”

“So you say.”

“Because it’s true. Dad made sure I had opportunities and went to good schools, but Mom wouldn’t let me get too used to the privileges his money could buy.” She eyed him. “You should know that about me by now. I’m not a spoiled princess.”

“No, but you eat weird food.” He stood and moved toward the hallway.

She jumped up and followed him. “Couscous isn’t weird. Millions of people eat it.”

“Millions of people eat tofu, but that doesn’t make it real food.” He opened his fridge and pulled out the pitcher of filtered water. “You care for a refill?”

Sage noticed the filter was the brand she preferred, as it was better for the environment. She passed over her water bottle. “Thanks. When did you get that?”

Joel didn’t look up at her. “Last time I was in Denver. I came across it in a store and remembered you like it.” He passed her the full bottle. “Want a snack? I picked up some of those pita chips and hummus.”

  Her heart melted when he pulled out the humus—an organic variety she’d purchased in California that wasn’t available locally. “I’d love one. Thanks.” Why was he so sweet, and yet barely gave her a second look?

“No problem.” He pulled out a Power Bar for himself and set it on the kitchen counter.

Joel looked over and caught Sage staring. The wonder in her eyes must have been all too obvious because his shoulder jerked in a defensive move and he turned back to the food on the counter. “It’s not a big deal. Don’t make anything out of it.”

She wished he would make a big deal out of it, but he turned into his stoic self, shutting her out again. “It was thoughtful. Thank you.”

“We should go out to the firing range again soon. You’ll never become proficient if you don’t practice often.”

She decided to concede to his change of subject, even though he was far from subtle about it. “Right. I’m free on Thursday.”

“I have the afternoon off. I’ll pick you up around one.” He took a bite of his bar. “Your brother keeps asking me for details about the investigation.”

“What have you told him?” Sage worried Harrison would start dogging her every move—and she already had Joel doing that. She didn’t need more of it.

“Only the basics—that we’re trying to track him down. I mentioned the credit cards were untraceable, but we already knew that.” He wiped his hands on a paper towel. “The thing is, I’m not interested in reporting to him about every move I make. I’ll let him know about anything major, but if you want him to know more, it’s your call.”

“He’s not your boss; you don’t report to him,” she agreed, grateful Harrison wouldn’t be privy to everything—it would only make him hover more. Then she wondered if major concerns included her emails.

“Exactly.  I get the whole wanting to watch out for his little sister, but calming him down is not my problem. I’m focused on you.”

These kinds of discussions always left her a little depressed. She turned the subject before she could focus on how he only saw her as his charge. Sage studied him for a long moment. “Do you have a sister? You never talk about your family.” When his expression became wary, she pushed a little harder. “Come on, you know practically every little detail about my life. Can’t you share even a few things with me?”

He rubbed a line of condensation from his glass. “There’s not much to tell. I don’t know who my dad is—if my mom knew who he was, she lied and said she didn’t because it’s not on my birth certificate. She died of a drug overdose when I was a toddler. My grandma raised me, worked herself to death trying to keep food on the table.”