Chapter 15
“He did what? Jesus, fuck, Poppy. You should have told us this earlier!” The thought of anyone hurting this woman sent rage through him.
“Malcolm Davy tried to strangle me,” Poppy said. “I got free and escaped. He followed, but I was quicker and reached my car.” He read the fear in her eyes she’d felt that night, and he wanted to find Davy and kill him.
“So you drove from him straight to the police station, right?” She gave him a look that suggested he wasn’t the smartest person she’d ever met.
“Of course I did. They took my statement and said they’d follow it up.”
“And?”
“And they brought Malcolm in for questioning. He denied it and said I was hysterical when he’d been trying to break up with me. I’d overreacted because I wanted to stay in a relationship with him?—”
“The cops didn’t buy that, surely?”
“No, but stalking and harassment are misdemeanors. Malcolm was an upstanding citizen, and people were willing to be character witnesses for him.”
Nick swore.
“He doesn’t have a record, so he got probation for a few months, and a fine, and then he had paid his dues, or so they said, and the phone calls started.
But this time, he was clever. The phone numbers were always different, and he disguised his voice.
I don’t know how, but he always seemed to know where I was.
“And you contacted the police again?” Nick said.
“Of course, and they checked his phone and went to his house, but they found no further evidence he was stalking me. I knew it was him, and that he was even more determined now because he wanted revenge for what I’d done to him.
On one call he told me I’d never be free of him because we were meant to be together.
Nick couldn’t believe this had been going on as long as it had, and no one had done anything to stop Davy again.
“I kept contacting the police, but they couldn’t find any evidence. One officer said that Malcolm Davy had paid for his crime, and apparently, I make up stories for a living, so it wasn’t a stretch to think I’d be doing that in real life.”
“So what? You just stopped reporting things?” Nick asked.
“No one listened, so I gave up and left my home,” she said. Her arms were wrapped around her waist now, as if to protect herself.
“If he tried it with you, he’d have done something like that before surely? There would have been a pattern of this kind of behavior, Poppy.”
“The police said before me there were no complaints.”
Nick swore, long and loud.
“Where were you living?”
“Baltimore.”
“How many years ago did this happen?”
“Five.”
“And what? You’ve been moving around ever since?” Nick asked.
Her eyes dropped to her plate.
“Poppy, answer me. This is the time for truth.”
“Not constantly. But I didn’t want to live with Aunt Jenny or near her because I worried he’d come after her.”
“Has he come at you again?”
“I haven’t seen him, but I would get these phone calls saying he knew where I was, plus he would make contact with me through my author website, but I just blocked them.
When that happened, I changed my phone and moved.
I basically relocated every few months just to be sure he never found me. I’ve seen a lot of the country.”
He didn’t laugh at her pathetic attempt at a joke.
“This is bullshit,” Nick hissed. “When did you hear from him last?”
“About a year ago, and that’s why I thought this wasn’t him and the reason I came here to settle. I believed he’d stopped or died, and I was safe. I want to have a life, Nick.”
“But he hasn’t stopped.” His heart hurt for the woman who had been on the run for so long. “He’s been stalking you for five years, Poppy. This has to stop now, and Malcolm Davy needs to be caught, and with Billy’s help, we’ll ensure that happens.”
“I should leave here, Nick. It’s not safe for you if I stay.” She got to her feet and started backing away. “I can pack and call a cab.”
He followed.
“You are not going anywhere. I know you’re scared, and this is all out of your control, but we have to stop him. No more running, Poppy.”
“Running is safe for everyone,” she whispered, and then tears started.
He’d wondered when she’d crack. Picking her up, Nick carried her into the living area and sat on the couch with her on his lap.
She’d been mugged, her house trashed by some crazy man who had been stalking her, and Nick had watched her take it all, but he also knew women—more importantly, his sisters.
When one of them was near their breaking point, they usually yelled and smashed a few things and then came the tears.
Poppy was well past that point in his book.
“It’s all right.” He held her close and let her cry. She was noisy and loud but didn’t last for long. Soon, she was sniffing and sighing with the occasional hiccup thrown in.
“I don’t cry,” she said, her voice husky with tears. “I mean, not usually.”
“Duly noted.” Nick rubbed his thumb under her eye. “I won’t put out a press release that the famous author Poppy Sylvester is human and cries.”
“Okay, so maybe that’s twice in two days, but in the usual course of events, that would be a few years’ worth of tears for me,” she said.
“Cut yourself a break. You’ve had a rough couple of days.” Her eyes were red rimmed now from tears, and he felt it again, that little kick to his chest when he looked at her. “You’re beautiful, you know that, right? Always have been,” he said, using the bottom of his T-shirt now to wipe her cheeks.
“You don’t have to say things like that because I’m low. Really,” Poppy said, struggling to get off his lap. Nick just tightened his hold on her.
“I don’t lie, Poppy.”
“Are you telling me I was hot in college?”
“There was something about you that got me worked up, but I was never sure what,” Nick said.
“If you say so.” Clearly, she didn’t believe him, but before he could argue his case, she added, “I really am sorry about this, Nick. The mugging, and then me calling you today. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I would have been angry if you hadn’t. But for now, I think it’s bedtime. Tomorrow is soon enough to deal with everything.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t argue, just climbed off his lap, and he had to fight the need to pull her back into his arms.
“Thanks, Nick. I really am grateful. I owe you.”
“I’ll think of some way for you to repay me.”
“Okay, sure.” She turned away from him and took the stairs up.
Fifteen minutes later, Nick finished his call with Billy and followed her up the stairs. He knocked on her door.
“Come in.”
She was sitting in a chair by the window in cotton sleep shorts and a tank, looking at her new phone.
“I thought you were going to bed?”
“Just checking some emails.”
“Here’s some water and pain meds in case you need them in the night.” Nick lowered them to the bedside table. “Now get in here.” He held up the covers.
“I can get into bed myself, Nick. I’ve been doing it alone for years.”
“So do it.” He kept his eyes on her face, instead of running them down her body.
She stared at him but gave in and rose. Skirting around him, she dropped her phone on the nightstand and got into bed.
He tucked her in, which made her smile. “I can’t remember the last time someone did that for me.”
“My mom still does it if I’m sick.” He bent to kiss her softly on the lips. She tasted of toothpaste. Funny how that was a turn-on.
“Night, Nick.”
“Night, Tinker Bell. I’m close if you need me. Just call.” He ran a finger down her cheek.
“Thank you… for everything.”
Walking away from her, lying there vulnerable and hurting, was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.