Stoking the Embers (New Adult Romantic Suspense): The Complete Series (31 page)

I hadn’t realized it, but someone had cuffed Ken and he was now being hauled out of the room, still naked. Oh my shit… the condom hanging from his, now limp, penis. I’d thought I’d known mortification before. I’d thought I’d felt the bomb blast of surprise. That was nothing to this… tied up, wearing nipple clamps, while a SWAT team drags the lover they’d pulled from between my legs out the door.

Once they are gone, the woman pulls the blanket off me and stares at my get up. “Please,” I say. “Can you please help me get out of this?”

Her own face winces as she releases one clamp and then the other. My eyes nearly roll back into my head as the blood rushes back into the tips.

“Let me get something straight,” the officer says as she begins to unbuckle me. “You were not being harmed, you were not being threatened? Is that correct?”

I massage my wrist as she removes one buckle and then the other. I pull the blanket back over me and desperately want to massage my breasts.

“No. Why would you think that?” I ask, still trying to understand all that just happened.

“We received a 911 call that a woman in this room was being held against her will and that a male was heard threatening a female. There was also talk of weapons. Murder-suicide.”

I shudder. Jerome? The bastard.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when I realize what’s probably happened. I give her the short version of the story and listen as she calls someone and confirms the details.

She–Officer Cook I learn—stands up. “Young lady, bless your heart. That’s just about one of the craziest things I’ve ever heard. We’ve had to deal with a lot of crank calls, kids swatting each other.”

“Swatting?”

Officer Cook points to the four letters on her vest. SWAT. “Kids call in, saying there’s a bomb or death threat at another kid’s house. We have to go in prepared for the worst because we can’t take the chance that it’s not a prank.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yes, it is. It’s dangerous for everyone. Your boyfriend could have been seriously injured because he wouldn’t stay down. Our guys don’t know, don’t care why he’s fighting back.”

There’s a knock on the door. I pull the blanket tighter around me and Officer Cook opens the door. I try to listen, but only hear bits and pieces–swatted, weapon with permit, crazy shit—is among them.

Closing the door again, the officer says, “Why don’t you get dressed and meet us in the living room. Your boyfriend’s alright, so are your other friends. See you in a minute.”

Still stunned, I get dressed and, just before I’m ready to step out of the room, my phone beeps. Filled with dread, I walk back into the bathroom where it’s still covered by a towel. I pick it up and swipe the screen.

The message says:
Ha ha ha Bellagi-HO

The next morning, I wake up in Ken’s arms, the sunlight streaming through the hotel windows. I don’t even ask myself if last night was a dream; the bruise on Ken’s shoulder is a reminder of how very real it was.

After the text message, I’d joined the group and filled out the necessary police reports. Happily, everyone but Officer Cook and one other man had left, giving me a reprieve from having to look at the men who had seen me trussed up like Thanksgiving’s turkey.

Beth had been pissed as hell… easier for her because she hadn’t been naked. Neither had Gage, believe it or not. I would have bet money that those two were getting it on as hard and fast as Ken and I were.

After the officers had left, the four of us had just stared at each other, Ken holding a bag of ice to his head while Gage held one to his lip. He had fought back too when the team had broken into the front door. He and Beth had been making out on the couch and he’d taken an elbow to the face. Thank goodness he hadn’t tried to go for his pistol or he, very easily, could have been shot.

Around two a.m., the Bellagio repairman left. They’d had to replace the main door as well the master bedroom door after the team had literally broken them apart. The manager on call had come by and assured us the damages wouldn’t be charged to us, which had been a relief.

Finally, we had been able to go to bed. Gage had started to stretch out on the couch, but Beth grabbed his hand and asked him to stay with her. She’d given me a big hug before closing her bedroom door behind them.

Back in our room, I’d gathered up all our ‘gear’. I picked up the nipple clamps and tossed them at Ken. “Never ever, ever ever ever, ever ever ever, again.” He’s said nothing, just grinned and tossed them in the trash.

Damn, my nipples still hurt like crazy this morning. Turning over to better watch Ken sleep was mini-torture. He opened one eye, then the next, then kissed my forehead and pulled me closer.

I keep waiting for him to leave, waiting for the moment when he decides enough is enough. It doesn’t seem like this morning is that time, so I hold on tight. I won’t ask him to leave again, at least I don’t think I will. I’m still very worried about him, now more than ever. But I need him. It’s selfish, but I don’t want him to go.

“Morning, beautiful.”

“Morning, handsome. How’s your head?”

“Better. Leg hurts like hell.”

I try to raise up and check it, but he won’t let me go. “Later. There’s something that hurts worse than my leg.” He takes my hand and guides it beneath the covers. “Blue balls suck.”

I laugh. That’s right. We’d gotten swatted before he could come.

I begin to scoot down his body, first kissing his chest, then his abs, then lower. “Lucky for you. Nurse Stephanie to the rescue.”

After we check out of the hotel, we decide to go to Gage’s house after all. We stop by all of our apartments to grab swim suits and towels. We drop Gage off at the repair shop to pick up his truck. Beth rides with him.

We’re having a blast. Gage’s pool and hot tub are amazing. The guys are grilling steaks and baked potatoes while Beth and I toss together a salad and make strawberry pies.

“You okay?” Beth asks me for the hundredth time today.

I roll my eyes at her. “Believe it or not, still yes. It’s like it happened to someone else. Weird huh? You still okay?”

She glances out the window at the two guys manning the grill. They look to be having a serious discussion. She smiles and nods. “Yeah, really good.”

“So, last night. Did you and Gage do the deed?”

She twirls like a ballerina, salad tongs straight up in the air. “Is that a yes?” I ask her, smiling as she gets dizzy and nearly loses her balance.

“Actually, Miss Smarty Pants, it’s a no.”

“No? Then why all the twirls and smiles?”

She leans against the counter top and drops her chin on her hand. “Well, before the SWAT team came busting in, we were absolutely heading in that direction. I’d already decided to have sex with him, but didn’t want to miss out on all that first time foreplay.”

“Good, huh?”

She does another twirl and then plops back onto the counter. “The best.”

“So, after swatageddon, what changed?”

She laughs at my new name for it, then grows dreamy again. “I don’t know. It’s not like things burst between us. More like we just clung to each other. Is that stupid?”

I remember clinging to Ken. “No, not stupid at all.”

“He asked me to stay with him tonight.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And…?”

“And what do you think? Of course.”

I remember Ken talking about Gage not being the relationship type and try to decide if I should warn her. Of course I should. I’d be pissed as hell if she didn’t warn me. “From what Ken says, Gage gets around a lot. He actually mentioned he hopes you don’t get hurt.”

Instead of being upset, Beth grins even bigger. “Aw, that’s sweet of Ken, worrying about me. But, tell him I’m a big girl. I’m not looking for a relationship either. If this lasts a day, a week or a month, I’m just going to have fun. It’s been a long time, you know.”

Yeah. I did know. Beth hadn’t allowed anyone close to her like this since our freshman year, when she was raped by two frat guys. She had dated, and had even had sex since then. The sex part had, at first, almost been like a challenge to the universe. She would have sex with guys just to prove she wasn’t afraid to. Once she got that out of her system, she just hadn’t found anyone she was excited enough to sleep with.

Until now.

I hug her and sniff back the tears. She blinks back her own tears and we laugh. “Dang, we can be such girls,” she says.

Hours later, Ken and I are heading back to my place after saying goodbye to Beth and Gage. I’m driving and keep checking my rear view mirror, paranoia sweeping over me again.

Back in the apartment, Ken and I crash on the couch and are watching Netflix when there’s a knock on the door.

“Expecting anyone?”

I shake my head and stand up. Looking out my peephole, I see a man in a dark suit. I scan through my memory. He doesn’t look familiar.

Cautious, I call through the door. “Yes?”

“Stephanie Vonnegut?”

“Yes.”

“Detective Andrews here.” He holds a badge up to the door. “I have a few questions about last night’s incident. Sorry for stopping by this late.” He smiles at me and tucks the badge back into his jacket pocket.

I look at Ken, who shrugs. I agree. Might as well get it over with. I unlock the door and pull it open.

“Thank you, Miss Vonnegut, I’ll only take a moment.” He steps in and his eyes widen when he sees Ken sitting there, his leg propped up on the table. Ken starts to stand, but the detective urges him to stay down. They introduce themselves. “This is good,” the detective says, “I was going to be stopping by your place after this.”

“What can I help you with?” I ask, hoping to hurry this along. I feel talked out; I don’t want to explain anything else. “Please have a seat.”

“I’m sure last night must have been very upsetting for you, Miss Vonnegut,” he says after we all take a seat. I nod. “My job tonight is to understand the extent of pain and suffering you’ve undergone during this entire experience.”

What? I look at Ken, who looks as confused as I do. “What do you mean? Why do you care about my pain and suffering?”

The detective leans back in the chair and crosses an ankle over his knee. “Our purposes aren’t your concern. Answering my question is.”

Ken lurches forward, dropping his foot from the table, getting ready to stand. “Wait a minute…”

He freezes when the detective opens his jacket to expose a gun.

“Pretty boy, don’t do anything stupid.”

Ken sits back and I hold onto his arm, my heart hammering in my chest as the man pulls the weapon from its holster. He takes something from his pocket and screws it on the end. A silencer? Oh my god. He pulls out a pair of gloves and slips them on.

“That’s better,” he says. “I’m very glad you’re more willing to answer my questions.”

“Who… who are you?” I ask and the corners of my vision blurs as the man looks from Ken to me, and smiles, as deadly as a shark.

“That is of no importance.” When he speaks this time, his voice changes, a hint of an accent peeking through the words.

“What are your questions?” Ken asks, lifting his chin as the gun points in his direction. I open my mouth to scream, but it dies in my throat as I’m suddenly staring down the barrel.