Page 40 of Inferno

Dear Emmaline Daniels,

You’ve crossed a line, and there’s no going back. Shacking up with the enemy is the ultimate sin, and it won’t be forgiven. I wish you’d have sent him packing because now I have to take care of it for you. I’ve been nice up until this point… other than slashing your tires that is… but that’s over. I’m coming for you and the ape you’ve been fucking.

Get ready for me, Emmaline. You haven’t been able to hide from me yet, and that will never change.

Sincerely,

Your pissed off stalker

P.S. Enjoy the pictures. I know I did

My hand shakes as I move the mouse to the attached files and click on them. Images, one after the other, pop up on the screen, and with each new photo, my anger rises.

Every single file is a picture of me and Inferno in, shall we say, compromising positions. These were clearly taken from outside my house, and the thought makes me desperately want a shower.

Inferno strides into my office just then, and tears gather in my eyes.

“Emmy,” he says, rushing to my side. “What’s wrong?”

Words fail me, and all I can do is point at my computer.

“Son of a bitch,” Inferno snarls. “Who are these from?”

“Who do you think?”

“Sorry.” He straightens to his full height and pulls out his cell. I have no idea who he’s calling and can’t figure it out based on his side of the conversation. When he disconnects the call, he bends down next to my chair. “Okay, I need you to forward this email to one of my brothers. He’s going to dig deeper and see if he can figure out who it came from.”

“No.”

He blinks several times. “Emmy, you have to. This is how we catch this fucker.”

“I can’t,” I tell him. “These pictures… I’m naked, Inferno.”

“I know, and trust me, I’m not crazy about the thought of anyone else seeing them, but I trust my brothers to be discreet.”

With as much as I’ve put my faith in this man, I don’t know why I’m faltering now.

This is personal, private… that’s why.

But if his brothers can help…

“Fine,” I cave. “Where am I sending it?”

He recites an email address, and I type it in and hit send before I chicken out. After turning off my computer, I reach for my desk phone.

“Who are you calling?” he asks, grabbing my hand.

“The police. I need to report this.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“Emmy, you can’t report it. It’s likely they won’t be able to learn anything new from it so what’s the point?”

“But this is harassment. And the pictures prove that this guy was at my house.”

“And he didn’t hurt you.” I narrow my eyes at him, and he smiles. “Not physically, anyway. Let my club do our thing. If we can figure it out, you can go to the police.”

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