12. The Storm’s Coming
Chapter twelve
The Storm’s Coming
Matt
We step into the Texas heat, the scent of brisket clinging in the air. Steele’s running his mouth, as usual.
“Listen,” he starts, “all I’m saying is, given the chance, I’d dominate Dancing with the Stars .”
Melina laughs, shaking her head. “Oh my God, you’re serious.”
He spins, throwing his hands up like a maniac.
“You’re embarrassing yourself,” I mutter, though I can’t help a grin.
She looks at me, still laughing, eyes bright. “So, where to now?”
I start to answer—then stop cold. A dark sedan idles across the lot. I recognize the plate immediately. My chest locks tight. Beside me, Steele’s whole demeanor shifts. “Mason.”
“I see him.”
Melina freezes, her entire body tense. “He followed us.”
“Yes, he did,” Steele replies, voice hardening.
My jaw clenches, hands balling into fists. I’ve had enough of this son of a bitch.
Steele keeps his voice low. “We doing this?”
I give a sharp nod.
We move fast. He veers right toward the passenger side; I cut left for the driver’s door. Melina doesn’t flinch, just turns and watches, her focus locked on the vehicle.
Five feet out—I catch him through the back windshield. Fingers gripping the wheel. Staring straight ahead.
Three feet—brake lights flare. He sees us.
Then—the engine roars. Tires scream. The sedan surges ahead, cutting hard right.
I lunge, but he’s already peeling out of the parking lot.
“FUCK!” I shout, breaking into a sprint.
The car blasts onto the main road, weaving through traffic until it disappears.
Steele tracks the sedan, committing every detail to memory. He exhales, pacing, jaw clenched so tight I can hear his teeth grind. Then he turns, eyes blazing. “I want this motherfucker.”
Rage burns sharp and consuming. “You and me both—my hands around his throat while I watch the life drain out of him.”
I feel her gaze before I look, lips parted, brows furrowed, like she isn’t sure what to do with what she just heard.
I force the fury down. Breathe through it. Steele drags a palm over his face, grounding himself. “We have to get ahead of this, Mason.”
“We will. Even if it’s the last goddamn thing we do.”
Melina breathes out shakily, arms crossed over her body. “Why is he doing this?”
Steele’s expression softens as he steps closer. “We’re gonna catch this guy, Melina. I promise.”
I echo it, quieter but just as certain. “He won’t get near you.”
“I’ll call Carter,” Steele says. “He needs to be aware.”
“Good. You still coming by tomorrow?”
“First thing. We’ll set up a new system. Something with teeth.”
“Okay. I need to get her home.”
Steele holds my gaze, then nods. “See you in the morning.”
He heads for his truck while I walk Melina to mine.
I open the door, help her into the cab, then circle to my side.
We ride in silence, the hum of the engine filling the space.
My thoughts start to drift until her voice draws me back—quiet, tentative.
“Do you know much about stalking? From your work?”
“I know enough.”
“What kind of person does this?”
My grip tightens on the wheel as I debate how much to give her.
“Depends. Some are former lovers—bitter, obsessive, desperate to regain control. Others get lost in fantasy, convinced they’re in love, that you belong to them. Then there are those who feel wronged, driven by resentment, looking to punish.”
Silence hangs for a beat before I add, “But the worst kind? They’re the ones who see you as prey. Feed off your fear. Who won’t stop until they get what they want.”
She goes still, posture tense. “Which one is he?”
“Without knowing his identity, it’s impossible to say for sure. But from where I’m standing…” I glance at her. “It’s not about love. Not some delusion that he owns you. The tire, the rat, the phone calls—he’s angry.”
Her breath hitches. “He wants to hurt me.”
I nod once. “He wants you afraid, off balance. That tells me this isn’t random.”
Her fingers twitch in her lap, dragging against the fabric of her dress. “You think I know him?”
I exhale. “Most likely.”
“Then we should make a list,” she says, more composed than I expect. “Someone who could’ve held a grudge, someone from my past.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s a start.”
“Matt,” she starts, reaching for my hand. “You can’t be with me every second of the day. You have a job. I have the kids—school runs, soccer practice, trips to the grocery store. I can’t just stop living my life.”
Her fingers slip into mine, warm and steady. She’s right—and it scares the hell out of me.
“I know.” My voice is low. “But we’re gonna make damn sure that wherever you are, you’re protected. And if this fucker makes one wrong move—”
My jaw locks.
“—he won’t get another chance.”
***
We pull into the driveway, and before she can unbuckle, I stop her with a look. I round to her side and guide her out of the truck, hand at the small of her back. The alarm beeps as we step inside, and I gesture for her to punch in the code. I lock the door behind us and draw my sidearm.
“Stay here.” I say, leaving no room for debate.
She nods, tense but steady, while I sweep the downstairs—kitchen, living room, bathroom—clear.
I take the stairs two at a time, clearing the second floor until I’m sure no one else is inside.
“All good?” She asks as I return, her gaze fixed on me, waiting.
I answer with a quick nod and holster my weapon. She brushes past me, heads for the kitchen, grabs a notebook, and flips to a blank page. “Where do we start?”
“Sexual partners,” I say, leaning against the counter. “Anyone you walked away from, anyone who thought they still had a claim. Guys like this don’t need much—sometimes the tiniest bruise to their ego is enough to make them dangerous.”
She lets out a small laugh. “That’s… not going to be a short list.”
I freeze, an unnamed emotion twisting in my gut. I don’t label it, but it’s there.
Her eyes flick up, a flash of realization crossing her face. “That came out wrong.”
“It’s fine.” I straighten. “Just write down the names.”
She hesitates, then scribbles: Leland Roderick.
“Your ex-husband?”
She nods. “We haven’t heard from him in months, though.”
“That means nothing.”
She frowns but doesn’t argue. Next, she writes: Darren Smith.
My teeth grind. Hearing that bastard’s name makes my blood run hot. “He’s still locked up?”
“Yes.” Her voice falters, the weight of something unsaid flickering across her expression.
My stomach knots. “What?” I press.
“There was someone else… during Darren.”
“During?” The word snaps out, disbelief cutting sharp.
Her head jerks up. “Quell your judgment, okay? Darren was cheating on me and getting more volatile by the day. It wasn’t some great love affair. It was—” She sighs, rubbing her temple. “Complicated.”
Complicated. Fucking perfect. I swallow hard, but the thought of some asshole’s hands on her won’t let go. “What happened?”
“We worked together,” she starts. “He was there for me when things got bad. I crashed at his place a few times. He kept me safe. It turned into something more, briefly.”
“How did it end?”
“He wanted more. I didn’t.”
“How’d he take it?”
“I mean, not great, but it was a long time ago. He’s been married and divorced since then. Besides, he hated Darren for the way he treated me. I can’t imagine him following in his footsteps.”
“ You still talk to him?” The question slips out, surprise tugging at the edge of my voice.
She shrugs. “We reconnected briefly after Lee and I split.”
“When did you see him last?” I tell myself it’s about the timeline, but deep down, it’s more than that.
“Maybe six months?”
“Did you sleep with him?” The words are out before I'm able to cage them, sharp and raw, jealousy burning hot in my throat.
She stares at me blankly. I don't know if she’s angry or just surprised. Finally, she answers, “Do I really need to say?”
I scoff, bitter. “You just did.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know, sometimes your super special agent, I-can-read-between-the-lines bullshit is incredibly annoying.”
“Let’s just get this over with, okay? If there’s any chance, his name goes on the list.”
“Fine,” she mutters, writing it down.
By the time she finishes and sets down her pen, my fists are curled at my sides. There are more names than I thought there’d be.
“Why are you mad?” she asks, irritation creeping in.
“I’m not mad.”
“Then why do you look like you want to put your fist through a wall?”
I roll my shoulders, forcing myself to relax. “Come on, Melina. You think this is easy for me? Picturing other men touching you, kissing you, fucking you?”
She crosses her arms tightly over her chest. “Well, I’m sorry my life didn’t begin the moment you walked into it.”
She’s right. I know she’s right. My reaction is out of proportion, but I can’t shake it.
I grit my teeth. “I just thought—Darren, Lee, the Bumble guy. I figured that was it. Apparently not.”
The moment I say it—immediate regret. Silence presses in, thick and heavy. The storm’s coming.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Her tone is lethal. A warning shot before the kill.
I drag a palm down my face. “That’s not what I—”
“I am NOT some used-up whore, Matt!” Her voice cracks like a whip, pure venom. “So what? If my number’s too high, I’m not good enough?!”
“Do not put words in my mouth, Melina!” I snap. “That’s not what I fucking meant, and you know it!”
Her arms cross, eyes burning into me. “Well, it’s a two-way street, isn’t it? Tell me—how many women have you stuck your dick in?!”
The question hits hard, crude and cutting. Heat spikes up my spine, anger and jealousy colliding until I can’t tell them apart.
“Too many,” I bite out. “Enough to know none of them meant a damn thing compared to this.”
The admission hangs there, but it does nothing to cool the fire rising between us. Her laugh is sharp and bitter, slicing through the air.
“What the fuck did you mean then? Because it sounded a hell of a lot like judgment to me!”
I shove a hand through my hair, breath ragged, frustration spiking.
“It’s not judgment, Melina! It’s jealousy! I’ve never felt this shit before! I hate it! I don’t know what to do with it!”
“Matt—” She softens, the edge of her fury easing a fraction.
“Look at you.” The words scrape out, harsher than I intend. “You’re the whole goddamn package. Gorgeous. Smart. Funny. Strong enough to make people feel safe. An incredible mother. A badass. A survivor. Do you want more? Because I could keep going. All the reasons I—”
Jesus Christ. The word almost breaks free. Too soon. But it’s there, burning in my chest.
I reach out, threading my fingers through hers. “Listen to me, Melina. I need you to hear this.”
Her shoulders stay stiff, but she doesn’t retreat. She swallows, the fight in her dimming.
“I never—not for a single second—thought you were a whore.”
Her lips part. The anger is still there, but it wavers, relief slipping through like light under a locked door.
“I don’t give a damn about your past. None of it changes how I see you.” I shake my head. “I was being a jealous asshole. That’s on me.”
She blinks a few times, then exhales. “I know.”
I squeeze her hand, drawing her closer. “I will never hurt you.”
Her grip tightens, but her expression is shadowed with doubt. “Promise?”
It’s not a question. It’s a plea. Raw and uncertain. I lift her hand and brush my lips over her knuckles.
“I promise.” My speech is steady, anchored in truth.
I reach up, taking her face in my hands. My thumb grazes her cheek as I search her eyes. My voice drops, rough with everything I can’t quite say. “May I kiss you?”
For a moment, she stills. Then she sighs and gives the slightest nod. That’s all I need.
I lean in and press my mouth to hers. Soft and tentative. When I pull back, her focus lingers, the edge giving way to something softer. One last crack in her armor, and the tension breaks wide open.
“Did we just have our first fight?” I murmur.
“I think we did.”
We stand there a moment, the weight of everything still hanging between us.
Then, together— “I’m sorry.” Our voices overlap, earning a laugh from both of us.
“I lost my temper.”
“So did I.”
A smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth. “You’re sexy as hell when you’re mad, you know that?”
She rolls her eyes, but a smile tugs at her mouth. I grin, leaning in. “I like it when you put me in my place.”
Her breath slips out—half amusement, half warning. “Uh-huh. Don’t push your luck, Matty.”