Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
“You’re not coming.” Jordan glared at Nigel, who perched close to the edge of the couch, ears standing at attention. “I’m not falling for those beady eyes, dude. You’re staying here.”
Jordan shook his head at the oversized rodent.
His brother and Ivy couldn’t return soon enough.
The rabbit was getting a bit too comfortable hopping between this apartment and Vanessa’s, and he needed his owners to remind him where he belonged.
Not that Jordan could see Ivy setting any kind of boundaries when it came to Bunny McFluff.
Nigel hopped closer to the edge of the couch, his whiskers twitching expectantly.
“No.” His growl was low and firm, the kind he reserved for rowdy drunks at the club or for Vanessa when she was really pushing his buttons. “You’re not a wingman. You’re a rabbit. There’s no way I’m bringing you on a date.”
Fuck.
He rubbed his palm over his skull. Not a date. Drinks. Celebratory non-alcoholic drinks after a successful night. It couldn’t be less like a date if he tried.
What the hell was wrong with him?
She was. Somehow, her high-maintenance ass had managed to worm its way under his skin and make itself at home. He couldn’t even say it was simply attraction anymore. An attachment had grown between them, a connection he definitely never expected.
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 swung inside 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.
When he got his hands on this motherfucker, he was a dead man. He rose slowly until he towered over her.
Vanessa’s gaze followed him up. “What are you going to do?” Her voice wavered.
“I’m going to find him.” He clenched his fists at his sides. “And when I do,” he promised darkly. “He’ll wish he never laid eyes on you.”
Vanessa leaped to her feet, holding Nigel against her breast. “Jordan–“
“You’re safe with me.” Despite the violence tearing through him, he managed to keep his voice calm. He cupped her cheek. “I swear it.”
She nodded, another tear dripping.
He swiped it away with his thumb. “Believe me?”
She nodded again. Even though the monster roared inside him, Jordan tugged her close for a gentle hug.
After settling her back on the couch and wrapping a blanket around her, he set the kettle to boil and dug the peppermint tea he’d bought the other day out of the cupboard.
Then he whipped out his phone and called Dex to make sure Vanessa’s parents were safe at her Zia’s house.
Getting Dex to drive her family home instead of leaving it in Anderson’s capable hands was a choice he now regretted.
But he’d thought Vanessa was safe with him.
He never thought her stalker would be waiting this entire time in her fucking apartment.
How the fuck did that sonofabitch get into her place to begin with?
The knot in his stomach was so tight he was nauseated. How had he let things come to this? All that bloody security he’d put in place at The Link, locking it down like Fort Knox, had left her apartment vulnerable.
After brief calls with the police, Joel, and Gabe, he returned to Vanessa, who hadn’t moved from her spot on the couch. Her hair was mostly dry now, but she was still shivering in her robe and blanket.
Fuck, why hadn’t he noticed that earlier? He raced to his bedroom and dug through his drawers until he found a Thompson Kickboxing hoodie and sweatpants. They’d be huge on her, but they’d work better than a robe.
When he re-entered the living room, she hadn’t moved. The blanket had fallen down one of her shoulders, and she sat hunched over Nigel like her sanity could only be found in the softness of his fur.
“Here,” he said gently, laying the clothes beside her. “Not a perfect fit, but it’ll keep you warm.”
She glanced warily at the pile of clothes.
“You can use my room to change.” Her silence was unnerving. He wished she’d say something. “Unless you prefer the towel.”
When her eyes met his, his stomach dropped. Gone was the sparkle that had shone in them all evening. Dull and lifeless, they now reflected nothing. He had no idea where her head was at or what he could do about it.
“Vanessa—” All the breath left his lungs in a rush. “I’m so sor—”
She stood abruptly, cutting him off. She set Nigel down, took the clothes, then headed toward his bedroom.