Page 7 of Neighbor DADDY

"O-okay."

She's scared, and I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around her and protect her, but right now my focus is getting to her. "What are you doing right now, honey?"

"Um, I'm standing upstairs by the railing."

"Are all the doors and windows locked?"

"Yes."

"Good girl."

Just like she said, the door is locked when I reach it, and I rap my knuckles against it three times. "I'm here, Kelly."

The line goes dead, and the wait for the door to open is the longest few seconds of my life. The moment it opens, I rush forward, pulling her into my arms and holding her close. Her body is shaking, and she clutches my shirt.

"Thank you," she whispers. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," I say, stroking her back. "Always."

She pulls away, and when our eyes meet, it's like the air is sucked out of the room. There's something here between us, and even in the midst of a crisis, I'm acutely aware of it.

"So, um, what's the plan now?"

"Now, we check your house."

"Okay."

The upstairs is clear, and Kelly follows behind me, staying close, while we clear the downstairs, as well. Every room is empty, and the windows and doors are locked up tight.

"See? All clear," I say, smiling down at her.

"Thank God." She sighs, leaning against the wall behind her and pressing a hand to her chest. It's then I realize that she's not wearing a single thing beneath her thin, short pajamas and that her nipples are hard points against the fabric. The urge to lean down and nip at one through the shirt is so powerful I have to clench my fists to regain control.

"Kelly," I say slowly, "I need you to tell me the truth, okay? Is there anyone who might be a danger to you? It doesn't just affect you. It affects the whole neighborhood, and I need to be aware."

She looks guilty, and a cold ball of fear drops into the pit of my stomach.

"Sweetheart," I murmur, brushing my knuckles over her cheek. "It's not an accusation, just a question."

Tears fill her sapphire eyes, but she dashes them away before they can fall. "It really shouldn't be an issue—I mean, he lives in Boston for goodness’ sake—but I had a..." She swallows, and this time I let my hands slide down to her shoulders, steadying her. "I had a stalker. He was a teacher's assistant, but he became weirdly obsessed withme. He never hurt me or anything, but he'd leave creepy gifts outside my door, and I swore he watched me when I left my night classes. The police never caught him, so he was never charged, which isn't fair, but I was so sure the issues would be over once I moved."

"Shit, Kelly. I'm sorry." I already knew the answer before I asked. My instincts are almost never wrong. "What's his name?"

When Kelly says it, the word hangs heavily between us. "Frank."

3

KELLY

"Ifucking knew it."

"What?" I stare up at Cam, confused and overwhelmed and more than a little scared. "You knew who it was?"

"Well, not exactly," he admits, running a hand through his dark hair, his muscles flexing and rippling as he does so. He's in just a thin white T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting jeans, but his presence is massive. Even without him touching me, his nearness is soothing and arousing at the same time.

"I talked to some guy at the hardware store with that name, and he seemed … weird. Something just felt off. He's a slick motherfucker, I'll give him that, and he did a good job lying, but … he was shopping for a rope."

I feel immediately sick, and my legs feel like jello. Cam must see me wobble because he steps forward and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close.

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