“Because I make you laugh.” He pulls me in, flush to his chest. “I’ll make you come. Multiple times, might I add.” He winks. “And because I care about you, Daphne. More than you know.”
Be still my heart. If I’m not careful, I might fall for this man. If I haven’t already.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
TRISTAN
Even with Daphnein my home, under my watch, I don’t think she’s safe.
It’s been quiet. Well, quiet until I have Daphne screaming my name multiple times a day. Thank fuck I do cardio, or I wouldn’t be able to keep up with her demands.
But besides sexy times with my girlfriend, the house is usually silent. I’m used to silence and its solitude. My own Bat Cave. But instead of some nepo-baby, martial-arts master hellbent on capturing Joker, I’m a reformed crypto-bro trying to catch a stalker.
And, as much as I hate Ghost_M110 for what he’s done to Daphne, I have to give him credit—the guy’s fucking clever. He’s hidden his tracks online. I’ve scoured every corner of the internet, but his username is only on the dark webpage we both frequent. No one’s given any clues about this guy.
I keep saying ‘guy.’ They could be female or gender fluid. They’re just as clever as men—usually more so if I’m comparing the women and men I know personally.
But Ghost_M110 is also a fucking coward. Cowards hide behind guns.
That’s one reason I don’t use guns in my kills. They’re cold and distant, lacking finesse, forethought, and creativity. If someone dies at my hands, it’s because of me. My plots. My explosions. My slices and stabs. Not a fucking bullet.
I’m an artist, not a monster.
And I promised Tuck. Tuck only ever made me promise two things: don’t get caught, and don’t use a gun.
Tuck’s a pediatric emergency doctor. He’s treated fucking babies for bullet wounds before. If it means that much to my brother not to use a gun, I won’t. And I don’t.
But Ghost_M110 is a gun-wielding coward. A fucking smart one too.
I’ve spent days trying to track him down. So far, I’ve gotten suspicions. Ghost could mean any number of things, so I can’t hone in on that. But M110? That’s a sniper rifle, one used in the Army and Marines. This guy was probably military, though that’s still a guess. He could also just be a gun enthusiast who loves that particular weapon. Different strokes, I guess.
If he was aiming for Daphne, he’s a lousy shot. Thank Christ for that.
But if he wasn’t aiming for her on purpose, if he was trying to scare her… Well, job done.
Ghost must live nearby. He posted within three hours after Daphne was shot at, so he lives at least a three-hour drive from D.C.
If I’m being honest with myself, I have fuck all to go on. And it’s worrying me that after weeks, I’ve found nothing on Ghost.
A soft tap on wood jolts me out of my trance, and my gorgeous girlfriend is hovering in the doorway of my office.
“Finished filming, Maggie?” I ask as I swivel my chair around and open my arms.
Daphne treads over, her bare feet rustling along the carpet before she sits on my lap and kisses me. “Yep. I batch filmed a few videos, so I should have enough content for the next two weeks.”
The cheery lightness in Daphne’s voice is infectious. Despite the hell she’s been through over the last few weeks, reading her books and creating content have made her absolutely shine.
I hope some of it is because of me. She doesn’t need to panic about finding a job. I’ve got her bills covered. I know she’s eager to earn more of her own money, but as far as I’m concerned, my money is hers too. But she’s always been independent, and even though she’s relaxed and relies on me more every day, I don’t want to muffle that determined spark of hers.
No, I want to watch that spark set the world on fire. I know she’s capable of it.
“I’m proud of you,” I tell her as I tug her even tighter to me. I press a kiss on her forehead and mumble, “Want to go to the shelter?”
“Really?” Daphne pulls back, her bright eyes shining with excitement.
Admittedly, I’m not so excited by the idea of a killer stalking her. Puppies are a great distraction.
“We should bring Hawkeye.”
