So Sensitive (Hard to Get 1) - Page 70

Wade looked back at her. To Gracie’s relief some of the rage was gone. He was definitely stil pissed, but it was no longer at the boiling point. “Baby, Jonas and I have known each other for a long time. Trust me; he’l expect what’s coming.”

She rol ed her eyes. “I don’t understand men at al .”

He closed the little bit of distance separating them and cupped her bottom in his palm. She sucked in a breath. “Sore?”

“Yes.”

“Pul on a pair of my sweats, pretty baby.” When she hesitated, he said, “I promise to ask questions before I start beating on him.”

For a possessive, hard-edged man like Wade, Gracie figured the promise was as good as it was going to get. Rising up on her toes, Gracie pressed her lips to his and murmured, “No blood, please. I can’t stand the sight of it.”

pressed her lips to his and murmured, “No blood, please. I can’t stand the sight of it.”

He smiled, but she noticed it was strained. “Go, before I forget he’s even here and drag your sexy red ass up those stairs.”

Gracie didn’t need to be told twice. She went. By the time she was on the upstairs landing, she turned and realized Wade was already gone.

She real y hoped he didn’t kil Jonas. Besides the blood, she didn’t want to be the cause of the men’s long friendship coming to a sudden halt.

24

When Wade walked into the office, he saw Jonas pacing back and forth, oblivious to the fact that he was no longer alone. Wade stayed across the room. Hel , if he moved closer he’d end up breaking his promise to Gracie.

His hands fisted at his sides in an effort to keep himself under control. “You’d better have a damn good reason for not knocking, asshole.”

Jonas stopped and turned. The only thing that kept Wade’s anger in check was the red color staining Jonas’s cheeks. Gracie had pegged it.

Jonas was embarrassed as hel .

“Shit, Wade. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I picked up on that part already. The question is why weren’t you thinking?”

Jonas pul ed a flash drive out of his jeans pocket and held it up in the air. “We had a visitor at Gracie’s apartment last night. The camera picked him up.”

Wade tensed. Could this be the break they’d been waiting for? “Her stalker?”

Jonas nodded and went to the desktop computer, pul ed out the chair, and sat. “Yeah, but don’t get too excited. The crafty little bastard hid himself wel . A hood over his face, gloves, not a spec of skin showing.”

He popped the flash drive into the slot. Wade strode across the room and knelt down, his gaze riveted to the computer screen. The front door to Gracie’s apartment came on the monitor. Within a few seconds a figure appeared on her front stoop. Jonas was right. There was no way to tel who the midnight cal er might be. Hel , he couldn’t even swear it was a man. “Looks about five feet seven, give or take. Maybe one hundred and seventy pounds.”

Jonas nodded. “And no way to tel his race. If it even is a he.”

Wade leaned forward and watched as the shadowed figure lifted his hand to the door. “What the hel ?”

Jonas sighed. “You aren’t going to like it.”

Wade swung his head toward Jonas. “What aren’t I going to like?”

“He left Gracie a note.” Jonas pointed to the desk. A Ziploc baggie sat next to the keyboard. Damn, Wade hadn’t even noticed it there. He’d been too intent on trying to identify the stalker.

Wade picked it up and read the neatly typed note through the clear plastic. “Motherfucker. I’l kil him.”

“I want to see it.”

Wade and Jonas came to their feet and swung around at the strained feminine voice. Gracie stood in the doorway, wearing one of his army Ts and a pair of dark blue sweatpants. The clothes swal owed her up. They were ugly as sin, but she looked adorable. Young, sweet, and too damn far away from him. Her gaze darted toward Jonas, then away just as quickly. He heard Jonas curse under his breath. Wade held out his hand. Gracie came to him, as if she’d been doing it her entire life, and entwined her fingers with his.

“Uh, Gracie,” Jonas began, waiting for her to look at him before continuing. “I’m sorry for earlier. I wasn’t thinking.”

Tags: Anne Rainey Hard to Get Erotic
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