23. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Rayne
My hands shake as I carefully place the photograph back in the envelope. I take several deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. This is no longer a game or a twisted courtship. This is a serious threat from an unknown stalker.
I move to my desk, sinking into the familiar comfort of my chair. The leather creaks softly as I lean back, closing my eyes for a moment to gather my thoughts. When I open them again, I reach for my phone. The screen illuminates, displaying the time—8:43 a.m. I take another deep breath before dialing 911. The call connects almost immediately, a calm female voice answering:
"911, what's your emergency?"
I swallow hard, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I need to report a stalker. I've received threatening photographs."
The dispatcher's tone shifts, becoming more focused. "Are you in a safe location now, ma'am?"
"Yes," I confirm, glancing around my studio. "I'm at my place of work, below my apartment. It's secure."
"Alright, I'm going to dispatch officers to your location. Can you give me the address?"
I provide my studio's address, along with my name and phone number. The dispatcher assures me that help is on the way, advising me to stay put and not touch anything else that might be evidence.
After ending the call, I lean back in my chair once more, exhaling slowly. The wait begins. We are stuck somewhere between a small town and something that would mean the police wouldn’t care, which means I won’t be a priority.
The wait for the police feels interminable. To calm my frayed nerves, I busy myself with mundane tasks around the studio. I meticulously clean my camera lenses, wiping each one with gentle circular motions until they gleam. The familiar motions are soothing, allowing my mind to settle into a meditative state.
I move on to organizing my lingerie rack, arranging delicate lace veils and ornate jewelry on their hangers with careful precision. I lose myself in the details.
Time seems to stretch and warp as I work. The soft whir of the air conditioning becomes a comforting white noise, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of fabric or clink of metal as I sort through my collection. The scent of lavender from the sachet I keep hung on the rack wafts gently through the air, further calming my nerves.
As I work, my mind wanders to the stark difference between this threatening message and the oddly sweet gestures from River. It was one thing to think Knox or River was leaving reminders of their claim on me. Their intensity was thrilling in its own way, a dark seduction that spoke to something primal within me. But this... this is something else entirely.
A chill runs down my spine as I recall the menacing words scrawled across the back of the photo. This unknown person had witnessed one of the most intimate, raw moments of my life—and rather than being aroused or intrigued, they had responded with pure malice. The threat to River and no doubt Knox's life hangs heavy in the air, a stark reminder that this situation has escalated far beyond my control.
I find myself longing for River's steady presence, or even Knox's commanding aura. Their brand of danger feels almost comforting in comparison to this unknown threat. At least with them, I had some idea of where I stood. This new player is a complete wild card.
The sudden blare of a car horn outside startles me from my reverie. I glance at the clock, shocked to realize that nearly two hours have passed since I made the call. Just as I'm beginning to wonder if I should call again, I hear a sharp knock at my door.
My heart races as I approach the door, each step echoing loudly in the quiet studio. I take a deep breath, steeling myself before turning the handle. The door swings open, revealing two uniformed officers standing on my doorstep. Beyond them, I can see their squad car parked at the curb, its presence both reassuring and unsettling.
"Ms. Bennett?" the taller of the two officers asks, his voice gruff and businesslike. At my nod, he continues, "I'm Officer Daniels, and this is Officer Martinez. We're here in response to your call about threatening photographs."
I step back, gesturing for them to enter. "Yes, thank you for coming. Please, come in."
The officers move into the studio, their eyes sweeping over the space with practiced efficiency. I can see the moment they register the boudoir setup, the racks of lingerie, the artfully draped fabrics. Officer Martinez's eyebrows raise slightly, a look of poorly concealed judgment flashing across his face.
"Can you show us the photographs in question, Ms. Bennett?" Officer Daniels asks, pulling out a small notepad.
I nod, moving to retrieve the envelopes from my desk. As I hand them over, I can feel my cheeks heating with embarrassment. The intimate nature of the second photograph suddenly feels much more exposing under the scrutiny of these strangers.
Officer Daniels examines the photos carefully, his expression neutral. Officer Martinez, however, makes no effort to hide his disdain as he peers over his partner's shoulder.
"So, you're some kind of porn star?" Martinez asks, his tone dripping with judgment as he gestures to the boudoir set. "That why you've got all this... setup here?"
I bristle at his implication, anger flaring hot in my chest. "I'm a professional photographer," I say, my voice tight with suppressed fury. "I specialize in boudoir photography. It's a legitimate and respected art form."
Martinez snorts derisively, clearly unconvinced. "Right. 'Art.' And I suppose these 'artistic' photos of you getting railed in an alley are just part of your portfolio? Are you sure it’s even a stalker? You know falsely reporting a crime is a federal offense, right?"
Before I can respond, a deep, authoritative voice cuts through the tension like a knife.
"That's enough, Officer Martinez."
My head whips around so fast I nearly give myself whiplash. There, striding into my studio with an air of absolute authority, are Knox and River. They're both dressed in suits… and they have badges gleaming on their belts. My eyes widen in shock, my mind reeling as I try to process their sudden appearance.
Knox's expression is thunderous as he fixes Martinez with a steely glare. "Your personal opinions have no place in this investigation. If you can't maintain a professional demeanor, you can wait in the car."
Martinez pales visibly, shrinking back under Knox's withering gaze. "Y-yes, sir. Sorry.”
River steps forward, his eyes flashing with barely contained anger. "Victim-blaming isn't part of standard police procedure, Martinez," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Ms. Bennett's profession has no bearing on this case. She's reporting a serious threat, and it's our job to investigate thoroughly and professionally."
The tension in the room is palpable, the air thick with unspoken hostility. Officer Daniels, clearly sensing the volatile situation, clears his throat and attempts to diffuse the tension.
"Now, now, let's all calm down," he says, his tone placating. "I'm sure there's no need for you gentlemen to trouble yourselves with a simple matter like this. We can handle it."
Knox's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching visibly as he turns his attention to Daniels. "A simple matter?" he repeats, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was coming from a scene and saw your squad car, so I decided to stop in and see if you needed any assistance. Imagine my surprise when I realized you were responding to a stalking case."
He takes a step closer to Daniels, his presence looming and intimidating despite the other officer's similar height. "Need I remind you, Officer Daniels, that there's a serial killer on the loose at the moment? One who's been targeting both men and women in this very area, with no identifiable type?"
The color drains from Daniels' face as the implications of Knox's words sink in. Martinez shifts uncomfortably, his earlier bravado completely evaporated in the face of the two detectives' ferocity.
River moves to stand beside Knox, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp and alert. "Every threat should be taken seriously," he adds, his voice deceptively calm. "Especially given the current climate of fear in this town. Ms. Bennett's report deserves our full attention and resources."
I watch this exchange with a mixture of awe and confusion. The way Knox and River command the room is impressive, their authority unquestionable. But seeing them in this light—as detectives, as figures of law enforcement—is jarring. It's a stark contrast to the dangerous, primal men I've come to know in such an intimate way.
Knox turns to me, his eyes softening almost imperceptibly as they meet mine. "Ms. Bennett," he says, his voice professional but with an undercurrent of warmth that sends a shiver down my spine. "If you're comfortable with it, I'd like to take over this investigation personally. Detective Maddox and I have extensive experience with stalking cases and can ensure this threat is given the attention it deserves."
I nod, still somewhat dazed by the sudden turn of events. "Yes, of course," I manage to say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I'd appreciate that… Detective."
Daniels hesitates, clearly torn between following proper procedure and defying the intimidating presence of the two detectives. After a moment I take the envelopes containing the photographs from him and turn to Knox with them.
As Knox takes the evidence, his fingers brush against mine for the briefest moment. Despite the gravity of the situation, I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. His eyes meet mine, a silent promise passing between us.
"Thank you for your initial response, officers," River says, his tone making it clear that they're being dismissed. "We'll take it from here. Ms. Bennett's safety is now our top priority."
Officers Daniels and Martinez exchange a look, clearly torn between relief at being off the hook and embarrassment at being dressed down by their superiors.
"Yes, sir," Daniels mumbles, not quite meeting either detective's eyes. "We'll, uh, we'll be on our way then."
Then the two uniformed officers shuffle towards the door, tails firmly between their legs.
When the door closes behind Daniels and Martinez, the atmosphere in the studio shifts palpably. The air feels charged, crackling with unspoken tension. Knox's eyes, which had been cold and professional moments ago, now burn with an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat. He turns to me, his jaw clenched tight, a muscle ticking beneath the stubble that shadows his cheek.
"Why didn't you call me directly?" he demands, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.
I blink, momentarily taken aback by the abrupt shift in his demeanor. The commanding detective is gone, replaced by the dangerous, possessive man I've come to know in such an intimate way. My mind races, trying to process the rapid changes of the last few minutes.
"When exactly did you tell me you were detectives?" I counter, finding my voice. "Because I'm pretty sure that particular detail never came up during our... encounters."
A frown pulls at Knox's lips, his brow furrowing as if he's genuinely surprised by this revelation. For a moment, he looks almost sheepish, an expression so at odds with his usual severity that I almost want to laugh. But the gravity of the situation quickly reasserts itself as Knox turns his attention to the photographs in his hands.
The first image—the one of me entering the bar—doesn't seem to bother him much. His eyes scan it clinically, taking in the details with professional detachment. But when he flips to the second photograph, the one capturing the raw, primal moment between River and me in the alley, his entire demeanor changes.
A growl, low and dangerous, rumbles from deep in his chest. His fingers tighten on the edges of the photo, crinkling the glossy paper. With a sharp movement, he thrusts the image at River, who has been watching the exchange with an uncharacteristically somber expression.
"Someone saw you," Knox snaps, his voice tight with barely contained fury.
River takes the photo, his eyes widening as he takes in the intimate scene captured on film. His usual easy-going demeanor vanishes, replaced by a cold, calculating look that sends a chill down my spine.
"Fuck," River breathes, running a hand through his hair. "This is... not good."
Knox begins to pace, his movements tightly controlled but radiating tension. Each step is measured, deliberate, like a caged predator assessing its confines. The soft thud of his expensive shoes on the hardwood floor echoes in the tense silence of the studio.
Knox stops his pacing abruptly, whirling to face River. His eyes blaze with barely contained fury as he fixes his partner with a withering glare.
"You were careless," Knox growls, his voice low and dangerous. "I told you to be more discreet, but you couldn't control yourself, could you? Had to have her right there in the alley, consequences be damned."
River has the grace to look somewhat chastened, but there's a defiant glint in his eye as he meets Knox's gaze. "You weren't there, Knox," he argues, his tone heated. He steps right into Knox’s space, his free hand coming up to brush against Knox’s stubble. "You didn't see how beautiful she looked, how responsive she was. I couldn't have stopped myself if I tried."
As I watch this exchange, a hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. "How is it that I have two detectives stalking me?" I ask, shaking my head in disbelief. "Isn't that, I don't know, against some kind of code of ethics or something?"
River's head snaps towards me, his earlier tension melting away as a wicked grin spreads across his face. "Oh, sweetheart," he purrs as he steps away from Knox again, his voice dropping to that sinful register that never fails to make my knees weak. "We're not stalking you. We're detecting."
I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't get stuck in the back of my head. "Right," I drawl, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Because breaking into my apartment to leave baked goods and stock my fridge is standard police procedure."
Knox resumes his pacing, each step measured and deliberate, like the ticking of an ominous clock. His movements are tightly controlled, but I can see the tension coiled in his muscles, ready to spring at a moment's notice.
After what feels like an eternity, Knox stops directly in front of me. His eyes bore into mine, flecks of gold seeming to dance in their depths as he studies me intently. I feel pinned in place by the power of his gaze, unable to look away even if I wanted to.
"Tell us everything," he commands, his voice brooking no argument. "Every detail, no matter how small or insignificant you think it might be. Don't leave anything out."
I take a deep breath, steeling myself and I begin to recount the events leading up to this moment.