“Come in,” Gabrielle called out.
The door opened. The officer gave her a polite smile as he held a brown bag filled with her dinner. He was a tall, broad man dressed in jeans and a dark blue windbreaker with a hood. Gabrielle guessed he was in his early forties with considerable experience in this kind of work, which she appreciated. His girth and presence would make any criminal think twice about breaking the law.
“How’d you get stuck on this crappy assignment?” Gabrielle reached for the bag. “You must be bored out of your mind out there.”
“It’s an honor,” the officer said. “Your mother has done so much for the islands. Gone above and beyond to help the less fortunate. Didn’t ask for a single thing in return and didn’t make a big deal about it in the media. She had a generous heart. It’s a privilege to be here to ensure no one hurts you.”
Gabrielle nodded as a sob caught in her throat. “I miss her,” Gabrielle said, blinking quickly. Being back in St. Felipe without her mother’s bold presence was strange. Bernadette King’s absence was felt all around, not just within her family or at King Estate.
“I’m sure you do. I hope that she and your father will be found … one way or another.”
“Thanks. Me too,” Gabrielle said although she wasn’t sure she agreed. Did she really want to know if her parents weren’t out there trying to make their way back home? Was it better to find out that they hadn’t survived or continue to live in her blissful ignorance that she’d see them again one day?
Pushing the sad thoughts away, she placed the bag on the kitchen table and took out the contents. Brad had allowed her this one indulgence—dinner from the most iconic restaurant on the island, Nettie’s. The smell of jerk goat tenders, rice and peas, and fried plantains wafted in the air as she pulled the foil pan from the bag. Grabbing the jumbo-sized Styrofoam cup filled with sweet hibiscus tea, she tossed the bag into the garbage can in the corner. This meal was a favorite of every Palmchatter in St. Felipe, regardless of status. Everyone loved Nettie’s.
“Need anything else?” the officer asked.
“No, but there’s plenty of food. Enough for four people. Did you already eat?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll leave you to it.”
Gabrielle nodded, then watched as he exited the front door.
An hour later, she’d finished a third of the food and all the tea. Two days confined to the house with nothing to do had taken its toll. Fantasizing about Sebastian had become her pastime.
She’d imagine his lips on hers, on her body, on her most sensitive spots, while pleasuring herself. As vivid as her memories were, they dulled compared to the real thing. She wanted him tonight. Putting away the leftovers, she tidied up the kitchen and went to her bedroom. Opening the drawers to the chest, she ran a finger over the delicate silk lace of her lingerie. Sebastian’s eyes would devour her whenever she wore pink. He loved the contrast of the bold color against her deep brown skin. She reached for a hot pink tank top and thong, then headed to the bathroom. She could almost hear him telling her how he planned to throw away all her clothes except her tanks and thongs. That’s the only thing he wanted her to wear around him.
A hot shower was the perfect distraction for the intense ache and longing for Sebastian. Turning the knobs to the hottest setting, she removed her clothes as steam filled the tiny space. She tied her hair up in a satin wrap and opened the glass door. The shower spray was hot and prickly as she stepped underneath, drenching her instantly. Memories of her last shower with Sebastian filled her mind. The more she thought of him, the hornier she became. The urge to stroke herself grew strong. She clenched her thighs together and focused on soaping her towel. Her hands moved over her swollen breasts. The tight buds crying out to be sucked and kissed as only Seby could. The soap slipped from her hand at the thought and bounced along the floor.
Bending over, she picked it up and then glanced through the glass.
He stood on the other side, staring at her with dark smoldering eyes burning with lust. His gaze trailed from her face to her breasts and between her legs, lingering for a long moment before rising back to her eyes.
She couldn’t breathe.
A scream caught in her throat.
Terror paralyzed her.
“No—”
He jerked the door open. His open palm slammed into her mouth, muffling her words. Forcing her backward, he stepped into the small shower, fully clothed. She was trapped against the tile, heart jackhammering in her chest.
A mask covered his face, with openings for his soulless eyes and mouth curled into a sneer.
The stalker.
Tony Brooks.
He’d found her.
Panic sliced through her as her survival instincts kicked in. She swung her arms wildly against his face and chest. Her legs kicked at his knees, trying to weaken him.
The blows didn’t faze him.
His free hand pressed against her bare stomach, sliding slowly up to caress her breasts before settling around her neck. His fingers curled around her throat, squeezing tightly until she could no longer breathe. He dropped his hand from her mouth as gurgled sounds came from her lips. Her throat burned from the pressure to breathe. She couldn’t die here, not like this. Clawing at his hands, she tried to loosen his grasp.
His face moved closer to hers.
