Page 85 of Daddy, Sir

“Fiona mentioned he was diplomatic at first. Also that he wasn’t ugly. Ted Bundy was charming and a very attractive—” Matt wisely chose to lift his coffee mug to his mouth when every head swiveled in his direction.

“I’ve been to signings all over the United States and even in Europe,” I said softly. “I’ve met so many wonderful people, some who don’t read my genre and others who love it. I didn’t even pose for a photo with Henri?—”

“That doesn’t matter, really. Henri could have taken Augusta Beshum’s photo without you even knowing. Anyone, regardless of reading ability, who is skilled enough with a computer, can go through social media until”—Zeke turned his laptop around so we could all see the screen —“he discovers she has an identical twin named”—he pressed a key—“you guessed it, one Fiona Flanagan, who is a psychologist in the great Lone Star State.”

“If that wasn’t enough, the cover he stole probably was.” Tommie flipped my book over and there, on the back was a photo of… well, me sitting in front of a poster of the skyline of Houston, Texas.

“I feel like a fool.”

“Don’t.” Landon’s voice was softer and his hand on my chin gave me no choice but to look up. “You had no idea this would happen and, no, baby, you didn’t invite it. That was just my anger talking. All of this is on one guy. This Henri whatever. He’s the guilty one here.”

“Maybe he’s not a bad guy. Maybe he just wants me to give another genre a chance?”

“Over my dead body,” Landon said once again. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what he wants, or even if he thought this was some creative out-of-the-box way to redeem you? You don’t need redemption. You write books that make people happy. You don’t judge or demean, discriminate or play any of the holier-than-thou crap. Meanwhile, this creep has broken the law. He’s beenfollowing you for weeks, which means he could have approached you for a cordial, nonthreatening discussion, if he’s even capable of having one, seven fucking times since the conference.”

“So, how do we find him?”

“By turning the tables,” Audra said. “May I present Henri Depardieux.” Mimicking her teammate, she pressed a key on her laptop and a photo appeared.

“That’s him,” I said. “How did you find his last name so fast?”

“Thanks to your putting the pieces together. You gave us the time and event and a name. The audio book market might be booming, but there are only so many conferences. What are the odds that more than one or two people named Henri are submitting their resumes to every single audio publishing company in both the States and Canada? Remove the one who doesn’t look anything like a possible cover model candidate and, voilà. Now all we have to do is find the physical him.”

“Which should be relatively easy,” Zeke said with a grin.

“By following the money,” I said as if I knew what that even meant.

“I believe Zeke is referring to the fact our Henri appears to have a history of being a bad boy,” Tommy offered.

“How do you know that?”

“Because, Fee, that photo is a mug shot.”

I probably should have known that, but then again, research for a romance book didn’t usually include flipping through a thousand mug shots either. “And when we find him?”

“Then we kick his arse!” Audra said.

“Exactly,” Landon confirmed, not bothering to correct her pronunciation, but perhaps that was because he was too busy reaching down and patting mine.

I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be comforting or a promise of a lesson on better protecting my identity in the future, but I was good with it either way.

Epilogue

As much as I’d looked forward to it, I never did get to kick Henri’s ass. I did witness his displeasure when he attempted to pull the, “but I’m a Canadian citizen,” card when he was arrested and learned that Canada and the United States had agreements in place to allow extradition. I did a happy dance when he was also informed there was a little thing known as the Territorial Principle which allows a state to claim jurisdiction over persons and events within its boundaries.

Faced with the knowledge that he was subject to the U.S. courts and our laws, it really wasn’t a huge surprise when I didn’t even need to testify at his trial. Citadel’s research learned the mug shot had been taken when Henry was arrested for being a peeping Tom. The team didn’t stop there. They interviewed the woman who’d been the victim as well as found police reports of two other cases involving women in states bordering Canada.

We met with the DA and Henri’s defense team and when Audra had slapped down one photo after another onto the conference room table we’d all gathered around, I’d shuddered. The other women and I all shared an uncanny resemblance to each other. Then Zeke calmly presented streams of statistical data of prior cases where a peeping Tom became a harasserwho’d escalated to stalking and went on to become a murderer. He’d tapped on each of the photos again and added that taking one life made it easier to take another. A second was but a single step away from becoming a serial killer.

Landon stared right into Henri’s eyes while addressing the entire room, stating that Citadel would not stop digging until every single detail about Henri’s life on both sides of the border had been uncovered and brought out into the light. By the time Landon took my hand and the entire Citadel team formed a phalanx around me as we walked out of the office, Henri’s lawyers were already suggesting that taking a deal was far better than facing a jury.

With Henri’s acceptance of the deal offered, the case was closed. However, the day I’d made the suggestion Henri’s story would make a very good plot for a thriller, I learned the hard way that my number one fan didn’t agree. After my Daddy imprinted each of his points against such an idea on my ass with the back of a hairbrush, I changed my mind.

I blamed it on endorphins for my enthusiastic agreement my aftercare should include a deliciously erotic demonstration of a different plotline. By the time he’d hogtied me and buried that blasted double-edged vibe deep inside me, I was pretty easy to convince that sticking to my genre of romance was far better.

And when asked why the protagonist of my next book just happened to mirror the life of a certain incredibly handsome, very virile, strict but loving man who was my very own Major Daddy Dom… I could honestly answer, “How could it be anything else, Sir? It’s just Westerly’s Way.”

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