Secrets and Sins:Raphael(12)

Anger and lust boxed for dominance inside him. No, she'd never thanked  him. Not in the hall of the police station and not with a phone call  afterward. But then again, what would that apology have sounded like?  Thank you for fucking me for over five hours, or else I wouldn't have  had a solid alibi. He smirked. Yeah, he'd pay good money to hear those  words on her oh-so-genteel lips.

"The papers said you claim to have no memory of what happened. Is that true?"

Her lashes lowered, her teeth sinking into the plush curve of her bottom  lip. He'd licked her right there where the skin became tender, slick,  and wet.

"Yes, it's true. The doctors believe my memory may return at some point,  but they can't say when or for certain. As of now, it's a huge black  hole."

Interesting. "Go on about the letters."

"They continued to arrive, and I finally notified the police. They  collected the ones I kept but they really couldn't-can't-do anything."

"Their hands are pretty tied with what they can do. If no threats were  made in the letters-just names-all they can do is file a report, because  they would consider it harassment," he explained. "Do you still have a  couple?"

"Yes, I have the two from last week."

"Good," he murmured, his mind already turning over options. The police  were constrained not just by the law but by budget, time, and resources.  An anonymous letter wouldn't rank very high in importance when compared  with a murder, rape, or assault. But Rafe could send them to a private  forensic laboratory his firm occasionally used and see if the technician  could find prints, saliva, or any evidence on the letter or envelope.  "Have the letters been the only form of contact? Anything else?"

"Yes. Until today. I figured before now the person sending the letters  was some disgruntled, bitter fanatic with time on their hands and a  grudge against people they considered ‘rich.' But after this morning … "  She crossed her arms, and the defensive gesture wasn't lost on him. Her  folded arms covered her midsection where the baby slept. He gritted his  teeth against the wave of protectiveness that surged within him. "When I  left for my doctor's appointment this morning, my car had been broken  into. The side window was shattered, my tires slashed, and on the  driver's seat was another letter and a d-doll," she stuttered. "The eyes  had been removed, the lips blackened with what looked like a black  marker, and the body torn open."

Horror and shock punched a hole in his gut. A hot, blazing anger quickly  filled it up like lava gushing up a volcano and pouring over the lip.  He shot to his feet and stalked away from his desk, dragging his fingers  through his hair. Son of a bitch. Son. Of. A. Bitch. A mutilated doll,  for chrissake. Who would do something so-so sick? This was more than an  intimidating letter; this was a direct threat against not only Greer but  her baby. An innocent baby.

"Did you call the police?" he rapped out.

"Immediately. They took our statements, pictures, filed a report, and  bagged the doll for evidence. They said they'll open an investigation  and have the patrol cars in the area drive by our house as well as do a  few walk-throughs. But I don't hold out hope they'll find anything."

She was right to be concerned. With the vandalism of her car, the  harassment would have escalated to criminal mischief, and the police  could do a little more, but not much. The officers in that sector would  pay special attention to the area, circle the house a few times on foot,  maybe take down the license plate numbers of the vehicles in the area.  Hell, serial killer David Berkowitz was eventually caught as the result  of parking tickets, so the routine wasn't pointless or just lip service  to calm her. But they would only keep it up for a week or so, and the  person behind the letters and the latest, more personal act seemed  patient. Four months he'd been pursuing Greer. What was a week's  time-out?                       
       
           



       

"Does your brother's building have a security camera?"

"Yes, but my car was parked farther down the block from his home."

"Which this person knew." He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck,  swore softly. "We can install cameras in the windows of his house that  face farther down the street as well as in his and your car. It's a long  shot, but if this bastard comes back, maybe we can catch an image."

"Whoever this is-he knows where I've been staying, maybe even my  movements. Raphael," she murmured. "I know I'm the very last person you  expected to see or probably want to see. But … " She paused, and for the  first time a tremor entered her voice, betraying her fear. "I'm scared.  And I don't know who else to turn to. The police can only do so much,  and I could hire someone for protection, but I don't … trust as easily as I  have in the past. I don't trust that whoever I hired wouldn't leak  what's going on with the letters and threats to the press. Paranoid?  Yes. But I've just gotten my life back … " She shook her head. "We don't  know each other that well, but you've stood up for me-protected me-in  the past. I hoped …  I'm asking a lot of you, I know."

No, she had no clue what she was asking of him. She couldn't begin to  fathom how her presence-who she was, the news of a pregnancy, claiming  he was the father-was dragging him back into an abyss he'd barely  managed to crawl out of the first time.

"Rafe, don't get me wrong. We had a lot of fun. But you're not marriage material, much less father material."

The incredulous words replayed in his head on a vicious loop. He could  recall the disdain and pity-fucking pity-in that soft, cultured voice as  if he'd heard them seven minutes ago instead of seven years.

He'd been deceived, played for a fool, then left shattered as he stood  helpless, watching his joy-his fucking heart-stride out the door. And  he'd paid one hell of a price. His soul couldn't afford to pay the cost  again. He couldn't endure it again. He refused to do it again.

Yet, damn it, he couldn't just walk away. Not with the very real threat  to her looming in the darkness. Without knowing how serious the danger  behind the letters and mutilated doll was, he couldn't throw her to the  wolves. Or an inept security agency. Besides, as much as he resented it,  he was personally invested. He'd been inside her body, kissed her,  pleasured her. Held her while she trembled in orgasm. He wasn't that  much of an asshole to abandon her now. Especially if there was a chance …

No! Not going down that road.

Shit. The need to strangle the breath from the person responsible for  the threats bombarded him. Hell if he could decide whether the desire to  hurt and maim stemmed from the cowardly stalking or the clusterfuck the  bastard had brought into his life. Growling a curse under his breath,  he retraced his steps and dropped into his desk chair.

"You're going to be okay. I'm not going to let anything happen to you or your baby. I promise."

He caught her slight flinch before she controlled it. Wondered if she  recoiled because of his deliberate attempt to distance himself from her  and the child she claimed was his. Hurt she would've most likely denied  flashed in her eyes before they, too, cleared of all emotion.

"Thank you," she murmured. "Another reason why I came to you? You're the scariest person I know."

He arched an eyebrow. "Baby, you'll turn my head with such flattery."

She snorted, but relief softened her features, edging out the traces of  fear and weariness. Her mouth eased into a small half smile.

Fuck.

There went that indigestion again.





Chapter Seven

For the first time since Greer had woken up next to a dead body with a  gaping hole in her memory months earlier, safety wasn't a distant memory  but a real possibility. Relief flooded her, and if she hadn't already  been sitting down in Raphael's office chair, her knees would've  weakened, taking her to the floor.

Thank God for small favors, because the last thing she wanted was to  embarrass herself in front of him. Not that strolling into his office  after not having any contact with him in months and announcing she was  carrying his baby had been a proud moment. More like one of the more  humiliating in her life. And considering all she'd suffered since the  December night she'd found her ex-fiancé stabbed to death on the floor  of her apartment, that was a pretty high bar.

Not that he believed her.

Damn, she hadn't expected that. Or the pain his skepticism inflicted.  " … it seems more likely he would be the father than me." "I'm not going  to let anything happen to you or your baby." "I used protection, Greer."