And then...
He vanishes, leaving behind only the suggestion of movement, as if he were never more than a trick of the light.
One second he’s standing there, a physical presence in the broad, unforgiving daylight, and the next, there’s nothing but empty air.
In broad fucking daylight.
“Anything?” Pope barks, his head on a swivel, Precious back in his hand.
“Nothing, Prez!” Cypher calls out, his voice edged with disbelief. “He’s not on the perimeter. He’s just... gone.”
“What the fuck?” Pope snarls.
My thoughts exactly. My gun is still heavy in my hand, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Men don't just vanish. Not in front of five sets of trained eyes.
Marigold is waiting on my porch when I roll into the driveway.
I kill the engine, but I don't move. I just sit there, letting my eyes roam over her. Simply watching her exist is a habit I couldlose an entire lifetime to. She’s so goddamn beautiful it’s an ache in my chest, a stubborn refusal of my heart to beat for anyone else. Every inch of her leaves me ravenous. There’s nothing I’d ever want changed, except maybe her ironclad refusal to give us a chance.
I think about the stalker, the possibility that they’re the same woman. Maybe this is how she claims me when the other way feels like too much. Maybe darkness is the only place she knows how to be brave right now.
The void I saw in her yesterday is gone, replaced by a flickering, frantic kind of sunshine. She jumps to her feet as I climb off the bike, skipping toward me with a light in her eyes that feels almost desperate.
“Hi,” she chirps. Her hands find my chest, her palms flat against the t-shirt under my kutte. “I missed you.”
My hands find her hips by instinct, my fingers pressing into the soft curve of her waist. “That so?” I pull her in, close enough to catch the hint of vanilla on her skin. I search her face, trying to read where her boundaries lie today. “How much, Goldie?”
"You're my bestie." She blinks up at me, the picture of innocence. "So. Like. A lot. Obvs."
"Missed you too, Goldie."
I let her hear that I mean it.
"Hey, Axton," she says quietly. My birth name hits like a blow, tethering me to the man I was before the patch. "Do you really think the person who sent you that pretty cat is pathetic?"
There it is.
The insecurity under her tone is the final piece of the puzzle. It’s the smoking gun. I can’t confront her yet. Not without catching her in the act, but the suspicion is now a concrete reality. If I’m going to have her, I have to out-stalk my stalker. I have to meet my shadow in the dark and unmask her.
Stalking my stalker.
The idea tastes wicked and sweet on my tongue.
I lift a brow, playing the game. “Why does it matter?”
She tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip, anchoring her to me. “I don’t know. I kind of thought it was cute. I mean… they must really like you, right? An enemy wouldn't send something fuzzy.”
"Hmm." I watch her face. "Maybe. But do I really want someone who only loves me in the dark?"
Her eyes spark. The deflection comes fast. "What's this now? My little man-slut bestie is out here talking about love?"
I smirk, lean down, and sink my teeth into the tender cord of her neck, meaning to reprimand. But it becomes something else entirely when her loud, breathless moan shoots down my spine, making every muscle below my waist tense. My cock slams against my jeans, and my grip tightens, bruising her skin.
We pull back and just look at each other.
Something that's been building since the day I first laid eyes on her hits a wall it can't hold against anymore. The tension between us finally, mercifully, implodes.
She lunges forward, closing the distance fast. Her hands slide to the back of my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair as she pulls my mouth to hers.
