It didn’t help that this other feeling kept gnawing at him, telling him she was still in danger. The event had gone off without a hitch. Not a single whiff of a threat had tainted the night, but still he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d missed something.
The burn under his skin intensified anytime he wasn’t in her direct proximity, so much so that it had taken everything in him not to follow her inside her apartment.
He’d showered and changed into jeans and a t-shirt in record time, keeping his eye on the clock, because at fifteen minutes sharp, he was heading across the hall whether she was ready for him or not.
A thud on his front door startled him. The follow-up bang made every hair on his arms stand on end. When a key scratched the lock, he was across the room, swinging the door open in less than three seconds.
Vanessa tumbled through, and he caught her against his chest. She was white as a ghost, her limbs trembling. She clutched the key he’d given her, the cold metal pressed tightly against her chest. Each frantic breath she took vibrated against his chest.
His hands skimmed over her shoulders and sides, taking in the sight of her wrapped in nothing but a robe. A robe? She’d come over here like this? What the fuck?
“Vanessa, baby, what is it? What’s wrong?”
If she noticed the term of endearment, she didn’t show it. But what she said next made his vision turn red.
“He’s in there,” she whispered breathlessly. “He was there while I showered. He’s in?—”
For a heartbeat, Jordan froze as his brain processed the information. In the next breath, he dragged her inside the apartment and slammed the door behind her. Taking a second to turn the lock, he ushered her toward the living room and set her on the couch beside Nigel, who hopped right onto her lap. Vanessa held the rabbit against her chest, shoving her face into his fur.
Turning back to the door, Jordan opened the top drawer of the credenza in the entryway. Without hesitation, he lifted the loaded gun.
“What is that?” Her voice was a shrill siren of panic and anxiety. “What are you doing?”
He pinned her with a hard look. “Don’t move. Do not get up or open this door until I return.” When she stared at him, her eyes two wide saucers starting to glaze over, he worried she might be going into shock, but he couldn’t waste another second. “Promise me, Vanessa.” He needed to hear her say it.
Her nod was slow, disjointed. Damp strands of hair fell over her cheeks. “Promise.”
Locking his apartment door behind him, he took a minute to put in a call to the police, then crossed the hall, weapon raised. Her door was unlocked, which didn’t surprise him, and he burst through, scanning every corner inside. The entrance, living room, and kitchen were all clear.
He moved down the hallway silently, his senses on high alert. The bathroom door was open, steam still lingering in the air, heavy with the scent of vanilla, but otherwise empty.
He edged along the hall, gun still raised, then swunginside the bedroom. He swept the room, kicked the closet open, and ran his hand through the multitude of clothes hanging there. Same as the rest of the apartment. Empty.
A glint on the floor caught his eye. He bent to pick up the white glossy square. A Polaroid photograph. He flipped it over. “Shit.”
Vanessa’s long smooth back, firm round ass, and glossy hair reflected back at him. She was reaching for the robe on the bed. The robe she now wore.
His fingers twitched with the urge to crush the photo in his hands, but it was evidence the police would need.
Tucking his gun inside the back waist of his jeans, he set the photo on the bed and headed back to his apartment. Vanessa was where he left her, sitting on the couch, clutching the rabbit.
When she saw him, she sat up, her mouth opening, but no words came from her trembling lips. It didn’t matter. He knew what she was asking.
“Empty,” he told her. “Whoever was there is gone.” He closed the distance, dropping to his knees before her. He clasped her hands in his and searched her eyes. “Was that photo taken now?”
She nodded. “Right before my shower. And—” Her voice faltered, fear tightening her features.
“And what, Vanessa?” He needed every detail. At this point, information was the greatest weapon he had to protect her.
She swallowed. “Before I showered, I laid out my underwear. When I came back…it was gone.”
Sharp, red-hot rage ignited inside him. The monster he fought so hard to keep buried all these years clawed its way free, roaring with furious intensity. “He took your underwear?” he snarled, voice raw.
She nodded, gaze plummeting to her lap, and a single tear slipped onto Nigel’s back.
Jordan’s hands curled into fists. Every part of him screamed.Hunt. Track. Destroy.
Some sick bastard had been in her room, watching her, close enough to touch her, to hurt her. He’d taken her underwear as a fucking trophy.
