Make Me, Sir (Doms of Decadence 5)

“I—I—I—”

“Panic attack,” Roarke said. “Have you got a paper bag?”

“Kitchen. Next to the fridge. Third drawer down.” Tiny grabbed hold of her chin, raising her face. “Reagan. Breathe. Deep, slow breaths.” He took the paper bag Roarke offered, holding it to her mouth. “Slow. Long. Slow. Long. Good girl. Eyes on me,” he snapped when her gaze went over his shoulder.

Her breathing began to slow, and she tugged at his wrist. He moved the bag away, watching her carefully.

“Will this ever end?” she asked hoarsely.

“Yes.” He cupped her cheeks. “I will get this bastard.” He hated this. Hated that she looked so lost. So scared.

“I can’t do this any longer.” A tear dripped down her cheek. “I can’t.”

“Then we won’t. We’ll pack up. Move.”

“Move?”

“Yep. Leave town.”

“I can’t leave town.”

“You’d be safe. Solve the problem.”

Some color entered her cheeks. “Just run away? I’m not running away. I’m no coward.”

“No, you’re not.” He kissed her forehead then drew her close. “You’re strong. Tough. Resilient. And mine. I’ll get him.”

She sighed, relaxing. “Never doubted it.”

He glanced up at the others who watched Reagan with concern. “We need to check the cameras, see if we got this bastard.”

They moved into the apartment and huddled around Tiny’s computer as he brought up the video feed. He went back to fifteen minutes before the alarm on his watch went off. He pressed the forward button, stopping when he spotted a figure walking down the corridor outside Reagan’s apartment. The person was dressed in jeans and a hoodie. They kept their face lowered, the hood s up, further sheltering their face. It was hard to tell much else.

The person drew something out of their pocket.

“What’s that?” Tara asked.

“A jammer, I’m guessing,” Tiny answered.

“A jammer?” Reagan asked.

“It sends out radio noise to interrupt the signal between the sensors and control panel. Then the perp can enter without the alarm going off, do what they have to and when they remove the jammer the alarm goes back on,” Jack said grimly. “Some alarms also make a noise when they detect jammers.” They watched the intruder attempt to enter Reagan’s apartment. “Did you turn that off?”

“Yep,” he replied.

“Why?” Tara asked.

“Didn’t want to scare bastard off.” He was itching to get his hands on him. Come on, turn around.

Obviously frustrated, the intruder kicked the door. Then started hopping around, clasping hold of their foot.

“Idiot,” Sam said.

Suddenly, the person looked up, their mouth moving as they probably cursed. Everyone gasped at the clear view of the intruder’s face.

Tiny paused the feed.

“Oh, my God,” Tara muttered.