Page 47 of Jersey

"Scott Wilson. He owns one of those themed dinner-and-a-show places on the main drag in town. From the looks of it, it's pretty lucrative, but I bet the IRS doesn't know he's cooking the books. Married, has two adult children. One has a lengthy criminal history, and the other lives out of the country."

"You found that fast," I say. "What's his criminal history?"

"Not much of anything," Casper says, but I can tell by the clicking of keys through the line that he's digging deep to make sure we don't miss anything.

A guy following a woman home and creeping by her house isn't great, but it also doesn't mean the guy is a serial killer or anything either.

"Looks like he had a run-in with the police when he was younger, a kid really. Looks like a minor vandalism, possibly like egging or something. He got community service, and that was it. I imagine there was no major damage. There was no restitution ordered."

"Nothing sinister?"

"There's not a thing on his history, but you and I both know that they don't always get caught," Casper clarifies, making my skin crawl. "You want me to send someone over there to relieve you? Jericho isn't going to be too happy that she may be in trouble."

"I can handle it," I assure him. "Keep digging."

"I'll let you know what I find," he says before the call ends.

Chapter 19

Caitlyn

I'm not at all surprised when I wake to find myself alone in bed.

What does surprise me is the minuscule hint of disappointment that bounces around inside me with his absence.

I managed to sleep a little last night, although I don't feel exactly rested right now.

I press my palms into my eyes, trying to rub away the sandpaper feel of them, but blinking only makes them seem scratchier.

Kiva lifts her head as I sit up on the side of the bed, but she makes no move to get up. The old girl is even less enthused by the idea of starting her day. Unlike her, I have a laundry list of things to get done today, and I always do better first thing in the morning, finding that my energy wanes as the day drags on.

I use the bathroom and wash my face twice, but even the warm water and the quick scrub of a washcloth don't ease the irritation in my eyes. I know from experience that a good night's sleep is the only thing that will fix it, and that probably won't happen any time soon, considering what happened last night.

I'm considering the possibility of moving as I make my way to the kitchen, surprised when the scent of freshly brewed coffee teases my nose.

I freeze in the living room, surprised to find Jersey standing in my kitchen, holding a cup of coffee.

He watches me as if he knew the exact moment I would come out of the bedroom.

"I made coffee," he says, angling his head toward the single-serve/full-pot combo machine. "The dog came out earlier. I didn't want to dig through your things to find the food."

The declaration seems out of place. The man came up on my front porch and fucked me, but he sees it as a violation somehow to go into my pantry and get the dog food?

"Thank you," I tell him, grabbing the kibble from the pantry and filling Kiva's bowl before venturing toward the coffee pot.

"Her name is Kiva," I tell him as I pour a steamy cup of coffee, knowing it's the only thing that's going to keep my eyes open today.

"That's different," he says, his voice low as if he's considering the name.

"It means protect or shelter. I feel like she saved me," I say, cringing with my back to him because it feels too much like a confession.

"From what?" he asks, genuine concern in his tone.

I pour my coffee, trying to figure a way out of this.

He's herebecause he feels obligated as a man. There's no other reason. I can't let my mind run wild with ideas that he might have some sort of interest in me past what we've done. I don't even think that I want anything like that from this man anyway.

I blame his proximity for my body being so damned confused right now.

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