But then he’s gone.
Slipping easily out of me. Rolling right off me.
Walking right out of my room as he zips up his pants, and he’s just… gone.CHAPTER 11KynanI pour another cup of coffee, glancing at the digital clock above the double oven unit. Joslyn’s manager, Lynn, and her publicist, Harry Hnatkovich, should be here soon.
Bebe is tapping away on her laptop, checking the security cameras I’d ordered to be installed around the property. Rachel had flown down here to work on securing Joslyn’s home while I’d gone to Pittsburgh to interview Cruce. I’d had her upgrade the alarm system, put in high-tech, ultra-resolution cameras with motion-sensor spotlights, and do a sweep of the entire house to ensure it had not been bugged somehow by the stalker. It thankfully came out clean.
Rachel holds out her cup as she watches over Bebe’s shoulder, a silent plea for a refill. I cap her off, glancing through the kitchen to the great room and the hall beyond that leads to the master suite. I expect Joslyn to come wandering out at any moment. She knows our meeting with Lynn and Harry is set to start at nine, and I expect her to show long before that. Joslyn’s always been an early riser.
But let’s face it… I’m sure she’s doing her best to avoid me after last night. I pulled the ultimate dick move—one of the worst a man can do to a woman—and that was leaving her bed without any post-fucking cuddles or explanation for the abrupt end to the evening.
It was hard disentangling myself from Joslyn, our relationship having become suddenly complicated beyond understanding. Within a matter of moments, everything I thought I’d known about her changed. When she showed me the folder her mom had deceitfully put together, I was faced with the realization my life had been manipulated and something had been taken away from me. My anger was mainly for Madeline Meyers, the mastermind who’d succeeded in tearing Joslyn and me apart.
That initial anger subsided enough to drive me to do something stupid. After stewing in anger, regret, and twelve years of not having the best fucking sex of my life, I’d reasoned I could have it again. It was there for the taking, and I was sure Joslyn would feel the same. She’d been cheated as severely as I had.
At face value, it was a good plan. Joslyn had opened her arms and spread her legs willingly for me. It was like a homecoming when I sank inside her, and I had the best bloody orgasm of my entire life.
Hands down… the absolute fucking best.
So goddamn good that when the last tremor faded away, I immediately got angry I’d been denied her for twelve years. Madeline wasn’t here for me to take my anger out on, but Joslyn was. As she’d gazed up with soft eyes, her pussy still clenching hard around my spent cock, it had pissed me off because part of it was on her, too. Joslyn should have questioned that shit. She should have given me the benefit of the doubt, and she should have pushed back at her mother to see the truth. At the very bloody least, she should have fucking showed me the folder twelve years ago so I would have had a chance to defend myself.
Yeah… it pissed me off so bad I’d had to get away from Joslyn. So I left her without a word, returned to my room, and grabbed my gun. I stayed up most of the night. Sitting out on the couch, I’d hoped that fuckwad of a stalker had the balls to try to come after her, which would give me a chance to blow him away.
Sadly, that hadn’t happened.
“…copies of the letters and I’ll get them analyzed, but Kitchner doesn’t put any stock into this being a serial type thing.”
Blinking, I try to focus on Rachel. “I’m sorry… what?”
She rolls her eyes, and she’s the only employee I’d let get away with doing that. “You clearly weren’t listening to me. I was telling you that I met with Detective Kitchner yesterday. He let me go through the evidence they’ve collected, which is pitifully little. Mostly just the gifts he’d left Joslyn, which included one eviscerated cat he’d hung on her gate and they have in freezer storage.”
“And you said he doesn’t think this guy has done it before?” I prompt, proving I was listening… somewhat. “Why not?”
Rachel shrugs. “The detective thinks when the stalker told Joslyn that she was his favorite, it was just taunting.”
“And this detective bases that on what?”
She shrugs again. “I got the distinct impression he had bigger fish to fry. Given the lack of any fingerprints or DNA left behind, I doubt he’s going to put much work into this situation right now.”