Page 9 of Too Lethal to Love

She trudged up the stairs. The throbbing in her head increased with each step. At the top, she leaned against the wall. The cake-stealing incident compounded her apprehension about going home tomorrow for her town’s annual Christmas party. Last year, she’d let nerves rob her of the annual tradition. She wouldn’t let that happen again.

As she pushed off the wall, her phone buzzed with a text alert. She pulled the device from her pocket and looked at the message.

Pain, as raw as the day a pair of savage hands broke her wrist, seized her breath. Her vision blurred as the message jumbled into nonsense. She barely made out the sound of heavy footsteps rushing toward her as she dropped the phone and lunged for her bedroom door.

Strong, real hands, not the remembered kind from her nightmare, grasped her upper arms from behind.

Not again. Not again.

She ducked her head and twisted like she’d been trained to do. An insistent voice saying her name froze her midmotion.

Kane. It’s Kane. Not him. He’s not here.

Kane spun her to face him. “What’s wrong?”

Laughter from the partygoers tunneled into her ringing ears. Remembered pain zipped up her arm. Fresh fear raced to catch up.

He’s not here. I’m safe.

Kane picked up her phone, his otherhand securely on her hip, and backed her into the bedroom. His scowl deepened as he looked at the message. The sprinkles on the cake froze into tiny ice shards that pricked her gut with each frightening word he read.

“Is this from the dickhead who hurt you?”

She dropped her gaze and stared at her feet. Curling her toes inside her heels, she closed her eyes and willed her legs to stop shaking. “The cake stealer didn’t hurt me.”

Kane closed the distance between them in two long strides. “But someone did. The terror on your face is the same as when I took you to the hospital and you made every excuse not to go in. And it’s the same as when I watched you have a nightmare in my truck on the way home and then later in this bed.” He nudged her hand with his. “Come on, Beth. You can tell me what haunts you.”

She jerked back from his touch. Panic vibrated under her skin like a thundercloud about to burst into a Category 5 hurricane. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she fought the urge to launch herself into Kane’s strong arms. Unlike the last time they were in her bedroom, she wouldn’t put herself in a position to be pushed away again. “Some guy stalked me online a couple of years ago.”

Kane didn’t need to hear the entire twisted tale, and she didn’t trust herself to tell it without breaking down. She was a master at pretending everything was okay, at least on the outside. She’d worked her ass off to manage her fears enough to be a functioning member of society, but all the training and preparation in the world couldn’t stop the message from pulsing in her vision.

Your cake was almost as pretty as you, querida.

Memories careened from the cage where she’d imprisoned them. Like rabid dogs, they pounced as brutally as ifher fears were slabs of raw meat. Her breathing sped up along with her heartbeat as she fought to control her spiraling thoughts.

He’s not here. I’m safe.

But even as her brain battled to believe the words, her body retreated until her knees hit the bed.

Kane glanced at the message again. His chest rose and fell as he studied the single sentence. “You said that the cake stealer spoke to the owner in Spanish.Queridais Spanish for sweetheart, darling, and all sorts of other things a creepy stalker might call you.”

“I know what it means.” But she wasn’t letting her trauma take the spotlight. Tonight was about Scarlett. Straightening her spine, she pulled in a slow, fortifying breath. When the house was empty, she’d sit on the couch with the lights on, her eyes on the front and back door, and her gun in her hand. Right now, the urgency to go back to doing something normal, like giving Scarlett an engagement party without the past crashing the festivities, shook her harder than her fear. “I’ve got to get back downstairs.”

He blocked her escape. “Who texted you?”

“Move, Kane. Linc needs something for his headache and Scarlett and Chris are leaving soon and…” She looked away from the indigo flecks in his eyes. The determination in their depths matched the intensity of her fears.

He clamped his hands on her shoulders and seated her on the bed. Dropping to his knees, he caged her in with his body.

She tried to rise, but he shielded her like an impenetrable wall. “None of this is your business, Kane.” Hell, none of it should be anybody’s business. She’d hoped this twisted chapter in her life was over. She’d even begun to believe it. But deep down, she’d known her stalker would return, just as she knew Kane would protect her from him.

She couldn’t let him.

She shoved at his chest and met solid muscle that didn’t give an inch. His strong, steady heartbeat, so unlike the rabid rhythm of hers, pulsed against her palm. “I mean it, Kane. Move.”

“I’m not leaving like the last time you were upset in this bed.”

Mortification—and another kind of heat she didn’t want to feel—spread across her cheeks. “I’ve forgotten all about that night.”

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