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“So, tell me more about this asshole who’s been stalking you,” he says, breaking the silence.
“I never said he was stalking me,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “He just sent me a bunch of messages. Weird guys do that kind of shit all the time. Women are constantly fending off dick pics.”
“Okay.” His eyes narrow. “So what makes this guy different then? Why did you mention him and no one else?”
I frown. Why is he any different from the other fishing messages I get on a regular basis? “Because he is persistent. No matter how many times I block him, he creates a new account and messages again.”
“Like a stalker.” He arches an eyebrow at me.
“Semantics,” I mutter under my breath.
“How do you know it’s the same guy?” His brow is furrowed as he glares at me but I know this is Jax’s process. I can almost see the cogs in his brain working.
“Because he always calls me chica and he always signs off with the same thing.”
“Which is?”
“Your one and only.” I shake my head because saying that out loud makes me cringe.
“Some guy you’ve slept with then, who maybe thinks he was the only guy?” he asks. Heat creeps over my chest and neck at the question, but Jax is working and this is business now.
“I don’t see how that’s possible. I mean there have only been five guys my whole life. Two of them are dead. The other two were guys from college who knew I had a child and the other one…” I swallow. Well, he’s sitting here in my car grilling me about my sex life.
“Why does he call you chica? He knows your parents were Spanish?” he frowns at me.
“My user name is Chica21,” I say.
“That’s not exactly anonymous Lucia?” he scowls at me now.
“Oh come on!” I shake my head.
“Can I have your phone?”
“Why?” I whisper.
“So I can look at the accounts. I’ll start a trace later but right now I just want to have a look.”
I hesitate. There is so much personal stuff on that phone. Messages to Archer about my night with him last week. Oh, God. What if he sees them?
“I won’t look at anything except them. I swear,” he says, sensing my hesitation.
“Fine. You know where it is,” I say with a shake of my head.
He pulls it from the center console and puts in my passcode.
“How do you know that?” I frown at him.
He frowns right back. “Because I set it up for you.” He frowns right back.
“Oh, yeah. Of course. I could have changed the passcode for all you knew though,” I add.
“But you didn’t.” He holds up the phone as evidence.
“You think he’s going to make me move home?” I ask quietly.
“He’ll certainly try.”
“I don’t want to, Jax. I love my parents, but I love my independence, too.”
