Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Waylon tilted his head side to side to crack his neck as he walked up the stairs to his apartment. The temperature had dropped considerably after the sun went down, and for the last hour of his shift, he’d wished he’d brought his winter coat. The shift had been a good one otherwise—no big surprises and no fatalities, thank God.
Frankie had ridden along in his mind the whole day. He caught himself grinning at times, remembering something funny she said or did over the weekend. He fought the urge to text her just to see what she was up to. Several times he caught Elias giving him a knowing look, the bastard.
When Frankie texted that the repair guy had come by, fixed the alarm, and that everything was fine, Waylon had felt a knot loosen in his chest. The worry was gone, replaced by anticipation. He’d be coming home for the first time to an apartment that actually looked like a home. And now here he was.
He quickly unlocked the door, stepped into his apartment, shut the door behind him, and let out a slow breath as he looked around. His apartment felt so different. Obviously, it looked different too, with the new couch and tables and rugs— but that wasn’t it.
Except for the black-and-white ball of fur curled up in the middle of the couch and snoring softly, the space looked too neat, too sterile. Like a showroom. It still looked like no one lived there, which was the same way the apartment had looked and felt the entire time he’d been there. So why did it feel different now?
No. He had it backwards. The weekend had felt different.
Waylon took in the whole space. It looked great. But all the furniture in the world wouldn’t make his apartment feel like a home.
His gaze fell on the red-and-white checkered tablecloth.
Only Frankie makes it feel that way .
And now he missed that feeling. Missed her .
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw her name on the screen. His heart thumped as he swiped to answer.
“Hey, Pix.” His shoulders eased and his expression relaxed into a smile.
“Hey,” she said. “How’s Snoopy? Was he okay by himself for a while?”
“He’s fine, but he must have had a big day,” he said as he crossed the room. “He’s zonked out on the couch. Didn’t even twitch when I came in just now.” He sat down next to the puppy, who finally woke, lifted his head, and looked at Waylon sleepily. He wagged his tail and yawned. “I was just about to take him out for a walk and then feed us both.” Waylon dropped his hand on Snoopy’s head and scratched behind his ears.
There was a pause. Not long, but just enough for Waylon to feel it. “I should let you go do that then.” Her voice sounded a little raw, like she was getting a sore throat.
It occurred to Waylon that Frankie could’ve texted. She’d called instead.
“Everything all right, Pix?”
“Yeah,” Frankie answered quickly. Her voice now sounded artificially chipper. Before he could press, she added, “Speaking of eating, I still owe you dinner. ”
“Oh yeah? You thinking tonight?” Waylon’s grin turned into a smile that stretched from ear to ear.
“Um. No, actually,” she said. Disappointment flooded his chest. “I mean, not for the dinner I was thinking of. That’s on Halloween night. I actually made the reservation for Liminal a while ago and it took a lot of work to get in, and I already paid for it, and it’s for two people, and…,” she smiled and shrugged, “I don’t want to go by myself.”
Waylon tightened his grip on the phone. He didn’t ask who the reservation was originally for. He didn’t need to. Derek .
“You said it was expensive? We’ll split the cost.”
“No way. Like I said, I already paid. Besides, you won, I pay. That was the wager.”
Waylon exhaled slowly. “You don’t have to do that, Pix.”
“I want to. Besides,” warmth crept into her voice, “I still owe you for that oh-so-delicious MRE.”
Waylon chuckled. “Hey, I did feed you a great meal after that.”
“Yes, yes you did.” She laughed lightly.
There was another pause, and Waylon could feel the shift.
“Frankie?” His voice was softer now. “Anything else going on? You sure your alarm’s fixed?”
She hesitated again. “Yeah, absolutely. We tried it out and it’s definitely fixed.”
Waylon’s jaw ticked. “But?”
A breath. “Derek…sent me lingerie.”
Waylon could barely control his rage. “He what?”
“The box was on my porch Saturday night. I just thought it was something I ordered. I didn’t open it until today. I texted him and told him to leave me alone.”
“Frankie,” Waylon said, “Get in your car and come over. Right now.”
She let out a short, scratchy laugh. “Thank you. I told myself it was nothing, and I didn’t want to impose?—”
Nothing? Impose? Dammit, Frankie .
Now that she’d told him what was going on, she sounded scared. He kept his voice calm and steady. “Put me on speaker and I’ll stay on the phone with you while you pack.”
“Thank you.” He could hear her moving around, opening and closing drawers. She rattled off her things as she tossed them into a bag. “Jesus, at this point I should just leave a suitcase at your place.”
“Wouldn’t bother me, babe.”
Frankie went quiet.
Shit. Did I really just call her babe?
“Keep packing, Pix.”
“Yeah, okay.”
He heard beeps that didn’t sound like the alarm followed by a soft clunk.
“What’s that?”
“Just getting my Glock out of the safe.”
Right. He’d forgotten she owned a gun.
“Pix, I hate to say it, but bring the lingerie, too. It’s evidence.”
“Evidence?”
“For when you file a restraining order.”
Everything went quiet on her end. “Shit. Right.”
A minute later he heard a zipper. “I’m heading out to the car now.”
“Wait. Your backyard lit up?”
“Yeah, I have the back porch lights on. They flood most of the yard.”
“Good. Grab a flashlight anyway and make it obvious that you’re on the phone while you walk to the garage.”
Waylon heard her keys jingle followed by beeping as she set the damn alarm.
“Talk to me, Pixie.”
“I’m heading out the door now.” Waylon heard the door close.
“Everything good?”
“Yeah, the yard’s clear.” She sounded breathy and he pictured her sprinting through the backyard. He heard the garage door open .
“Look—”
“I’m looking in the back seat of the car,” she interrupted, doing exactly what he was going to tell her to do. “Nothing.” Then thankfully, her car door open and shut.
He listened to her blow out a breath and start the car.
“I can disconnect now,” she said.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I don’t need any extra distractions while I drive. I’ll see you soon.”
“Drive safe, Pix.”
Babe .
“Will do.”
The second the call ended, Waylon’s thumb was already moving, dialing Shane.
His friend answered on the first ring. “Ram.”
“We’ve got a problem, brother.”
Shane didn’t miss a beat. “What’s going on?”
Waylon took a steadying breath, forcing his grip on the phone to loosen. “Frankie just called. Her ex sent her lingerie. Unwanted. To top it off, her security system’s jacked up.”
Shane let out a low whistle. “Fucking hell.”
“She texted him to back off,” Waylon continued, pacing now. “Then she called me after my shift was over. I told her to pack a bag and get the hell over to my place, now.”
“Good call.” Waylon could already hear Shane switching gears into Watchdog mode. “You want me to run a check.” A statement, not a question.
“I do. I need to know what kind of history this guy has. If there’s a pattern.” Waylon gave Shane a quick rundown about the morning Derek showed up on Frankie’s porch. He gave Shane the make, model and license plate number of Derek’s car along with a physical description.
“That’s about all I know about the guy right now.” Waylon pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told her we could do something about him but she brushed me off. Said he was just awkward, not dangerous. I wasn’t gonna push. But this?” He clenched his jaw. “This is different.”
“Yeah, no shit. Lingerie isn’t just a ‘Hey, let’s still be friends’ gift.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll pull what I can tonight and send it to you. You told anyone else yet?”
Our brothers in Mountain Division .
“No.”
“You want me to?”
Waylon hesitated. “Am I overreacting?”
There was no hesitation from Shane. “Oh hell no. I know what’s in your head. Don’t even start down that old road, brother. This is different. If this were happening to Apri—” He cut himself off, clearing his throat. “To my woman, I’d do the same thing. Any one of us would, Ram.”
Waylon ran a hand down his face. “Do it, then. See what pops up.”
“You got it. I’ll loop Kyle in. And the rest of our brothers.”
“Appreciate it, brother.”
“Keep her close, brother.”
“Yeah. I will.”
Waylon hung up and exhaled, trying to tamp down his anger before Frankie arrived. She didn’t need to see his rage.
When he had himself under control, he ordered takeout. He opened his closet and put on his winter coat. Then he headed downstairs to wait for Frankie.