Our theory that my being here would spur him into action was correct. Not only has this been the fastest turnaround between gifts, this one also took on quite an escalation.
Fuck me. Thank god I started collecting Maddey’s mail for her, because I can’t even imagine how she would have reacted if she was the one to open this. Hell, I don’t even want to tell her about it. If I thought I could get away with it, I wouldn’t, but there are too many reasons why I need to tell her to keep it from her.
1. She has the right to know.
2. She has finally started taking the threat against her seriously, and I don’t want her backsliding.
3. It would be a disservice to not tell her. My girl is stronger than that.
I don’t even bother berating myself over the my girl thought because I’m too busy planning how I’m going to rip this asshole’s fingernails off one by one.
The anger, the rage, the utter fury of wanting to burn the world down just to keep Maddey safe is finally starting to ebb with each sweet inhalation of coconut.
I hate that I scared her. I’ve come to realize I’m not the most rational person where she’s concerned.
And this?
This is a whole new level of fucked up, one I’m still not sure how to process.
“Dex?"
I detest the wariness in her voice. I abhor that I’m only going to add to it.
I’m like a powder keg ready to explode at the first spark. Holding Maddey, her body brushing against mine with every ragged breath puffing out that mouth I still haven’t gotten a chance to kiss, is not helping the situation.
I should let her go, take a step—or twenty—back, but I can’t. If I release her, I’ll lose the only thing tethering me to my sanity. Without her, there’s a legitimate chance I will end up flying into the blind rage I was close to before she came downstairs.
“Something else came in the mail today.”
She stiffens, and I want to punch myself in the face even though I’m just the messenger. I’d cut off a limb if I thought it would fix things. When she snuggles deeper into my hold, her arms squeezing me, fingers slipping beneath the hem of my shirt and brushing the skin of my lower back, I’m supremely grateful to have both my arms to keep her close.
“Show me.”
I don’t want to. I really, really don’t want to.
“Tink…”
“Don’t, Dex.” She rests her chin on my chest, looking up at me. “I know you want to protect me and we both know I did my best to hide from this, but I’m done running. Show me.”
There’s my little fighter. Fuck me if this side of her isn’t my favorite.
Keeping her anchored to me with an arm curved behind her back, hand splayed across it, I reach for the bubble mailer on the table. Crushing it in my palm, I will it to disintegrate in my grip, but to no avail.
With one last fortifying breath, I unfurl my fingers one by one to expose the red fabric. Balled up from being enclosed in my fist, the lingerie is unrecognizable until I hook a pinky in one of the straps and let it dangle from my finger.
Maddey sucks in an audible gasp, and my back burns as her nails scratch across it in an effort to get even closer, a feat that would require removing clothes to be made possible.
Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. Do not—I repeat, DO NOT start thinking about removing clothing, the Admiral in my pants warns me. He’s right. Not to toot my own horn, but *toot toot*, I’m bigger than your average man, and thoughts like that would easily give away how I feel about Maddey with her held so close.
“What did the note say?”
All the color may have been leached out of her skin, but fire burns in her baby blues.
“What makes you think there’s a note?”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Dexter.” Her eyes now throw at me the daggers they were previously throwing at the lingerie. My balls experience a sense of táse-jà vu at her fierce determination.
I swallow down the lump of disgust that has formed in my throat, rolling my hips back when I see the way her eyes darken, following the movement of my Adam’s apple. Maddey is the only one potent enough to affect me while preparing to relay such a murderous-thoughts-inducing message.
“It said something along the lines of how you’ll wear this the first time you get on your knees for him.” I leave out that he sent highlighted passages from some of her books for things they could act out.
The United States will negotiate with terrorists before I let this asshat pervert her work like that.
“And I thought I lived in a world of fiction.” She reaches out to take the lace from me. “He doesn’t even have good taste. If he’s going to send me creeper gifts, the least he could do is send something that actually looks good on a woman.”
I can’t imagine anything not looking good on her trim curvy body, but again—not. The. Time.
“I need to call Jamie’s guys and clue them in on this new development.”
She jerks in my hold. “Jamie?”
“Yeah. He offered to have a few guys from the company BoP uses for security help with your case.”
“You’re the only one I trust to play bodyguard, Hook.”
I crush her to me a second time, smoothing a hand across the back of her head and down her spine.
“I know, baby.” Her simple statement means more to me than any medal I’ve been awarded in service to my country.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dex has been hovering, and I’m shaken up enough to admit I want him close by.
I’m scared, terrified even. We’ve gone from Creepy McCreepster levels to felony sexual assault in only a matter of days.
It’s a good thing the last nine months have trained me in the art of denial. Thank god, because if I didn’t know how to relegate this insane shit to the back of mind, I would have a better chance of my carriage not turning into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight than getting any work done.
I’m also ridiculously overdue for a Coven night out.
It may have only been two days since I texted my girls in a panic over the first almost kiss, but so much has happened since then it feels like two years.
Jordan rushes me the moment I step inside her house, pulling me into a fierce mama bear hug without giving a damn about the baby squished between us. Life as I knew it changed the day Jordan and Skye stepped into our dorm room freshman year.
“Here.” Jordan holds Logan out to a shell-shocked Dex. “Take him and go find Jake out back. He’s got a beer for you, and I don’t want to hear a peep about how you shouldn’t drink—you need it. And you”—she tugs on my arm—“are coming with me.”
Dex looks to me for help, but I simply tell him, “There’s no point in arguing. Jordan always gets what she wants.” It really is no wonder we consider her our group’s de facto leader.
Dex reaches for Logan like he’s a bomb and not a baby, and holy flying elephant Dumbo, I didn’t think he could get any hotter—I’ve seen him in dress whites, dress blues, and full camo—but with a baby cradled to his chest in a white t-shirt and backward hat? Yeah, that could make a girl pregnant.
“Shit. It’s a good thing Jake got fixed when the season ended. Otherwise I’d be having a fourth baby right now.” I can’t help but snort at how much Jordan’s thoughts echo my own.