Page 6 of Untouchable

My chest tightens. “What?”

“Yeah, he told me it was a part of his style of BDSM. It was a power thing, and that the longer he kept me there, the hotter it was.” She rolls her eyes. “When I managed to get myself out, I called the police.”

Blood boils under my skin. “How long were you tied?”

She shrugs. “Two hours maybe.”

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. He just tied me up and left. Needless to say, I never spoke to him again.”

My fists tighten. “When did this happen?”

She draws a heavy breath and looks into the distance. “Maybe five months ago. He tried calling me a few times since then, but I don’t answer his calls.”

I’m more invested than I should be already because I want to kill this fuck for hurting her. “What’s his name?” I growl.

“Paul. I think his last name was Earnhardt or Earhart. It was something like that. Why?” She looks back at me blankly as though she isn’t catching on to what this could mean. “If you’re thinking it’s him stalking me, it’s not. The police came, took his name, and did a background check on him. He’s an insurance broker with no record. The dude is as boring as can be.”

I groan. Police are notorious for glazing over things. “Do you have a street address on him?”

“It was a while ago. I don’t remember all the details.”

“A city? A phone number? Anything?”

“I know he was from just outside of Houston. I deleted him from my contacts, and I don’t have any other information.”

I nod and stand from the chair, grabbing my laptop out of my bag. “Okay. We’ll start there, and I’ll see what I can find.”

“Don’t you think this is a dead end? I mean, this was a while ago.”

“It’s the only lead we have, little one. So, we’re going to take it.”

Her cheeks blush. “Little one?”

Fucking hell! Did I say that out loud?

“Sorry.” I stand from the chair and move into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “I should get some work done.”

Chapter Three

Jo

“What do you mean he’s staying the night?” My sister’s voice catches as she speaks. “Are you guys…”

“No. It’s nothing like that. He’s on his computer right now looking up possible suspects. I think it’s a false lead, but we’ll see.”

“Look at you, talking like a detective.”

“Well, ya know,” I flip my hair back despite the fact that she can’t see me, “I did spend summers at Scooby-Doo camp.”

“And you solved every mystery. You even got a trophy, didn’t you?” She laughs.

“Sure did. It’s my prized possession.” I’m joking, but only slightly. I loved that camp and spent every year there from fourth grade to junior high. You got one case and a week to solve it with a group of your friends. It was an escape room before they were a thing.

“I’m glad he’s there,” my sister says, her tone low. “Ox will keep you safe. He’s a force.”

That’s the truth. My clit throbs as I think about him calling me little one.

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