Ace swallowed a forkful of spaghetti. “Bring them to me at the station. Let me look them over.”
“Forget it. You didn’t take it seriously when I told you at Christmas, why would I discuss it with you now?”
“I’m a cop. I take all crimes seriously. I told you, I looked into it. No one saw the car that allegedly chased you in that alley.”
Gwen nearly dropped her fork. “Allegedly?”
“None of the cameras caught it, and I told you, the calls can’t be traced on a burner phone without more trouble than I can risk.”
“Oh, yeah. Your precious detective promotion,” she snapped.
He glared. “You filed a report; I investigated and didn’t find anything. I can’t arrest a phantom.”
“A phantom.” She shook her head, taking a sip of her water to wash down a retort.
“Look, Gwen, it’s not that I don’t believe you. But this is Haven, not New York City. Stalking just doesn’t happen here. And even if it did, you’re a military general’s daughter. Anyone who looked into you would find that out fast, and who would go after you then? Dad would kill them.”
Frustration boiled in her. True, Haven wasn’t exactly crime-ridden. Surrounded by mountain ranges, the relative isolation and quiet made it one of those old towns people came to in order to get away from big city life. Still, from what she knew of stalking, it could happen to anyone, anywhere.
When she looked away, he sighed and put down his fork. “You need concrete proof for me to do anything. Have you considered the obvious?”
“What do you mean?” When the waitress stopped by the table, Gwen ordered a double chocolate fudge sundae, ignoring Ace’s scowl.
“I mean, this guy might be connected to your job. Working at the club, you’re surrounded by weirdoes and psychos all day. Are you surprised one of them might have latched onto you?”
Gwen froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. She set it down, her blood heating. “Seriously? Is that what you think BDSM is?”
He shrugged, not looking at her. “You walk into the lion’s den, you’re bound to get bitten, right?”
Disbelief raced through her, mingling with anger. She’d never joined in on a scene, and she hadn’t even gone through the main part of the club more than a handful of times, but it still irked her that he thought that way about people who participated in the lifestyle.
“I knew I shouldn’t have come here with you.” She wiped her hands on a napkin. “I’ll find my own way home.”
The idea of taking the bus home this late made her heart race. It offered too many opportunities for her stalker if he chose to attack her. But Nick had driven her to work, and she wasn’t about to spend any more time with Ace when he got like this.
“Gwen, for fuck’s sake, sit down. You are not going home alone at this time of night. Finish your meal.”
Despite her irritation, an old familiar instinct pulled her to obey. The effort it took to fight it made her heart pound.
“No, I’m done.” She stood up and dug out her wallet, putting the money down for her food and ignoring the sundae the waitress brought. “Besides, you just said nothing happens in this town, right?”
Ace’s eyes flashed and he grabbed her wrist. “Sit down and stop making a scene. And put your fucking money away. I won’t take a woman’s money, you know that.” He glanced around as though it humiliated him to have her pay her own way.
Gwen tried to pull out of his grip, but he didn’t relent. “Ace, let go of me, I’m going home.”
He stood. “Just sit down and let’s talk about this reasonably.”
A tiny voice inside her screamed at her to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t.
“Yeah because thinking that people are wacko just because of their lifestyle is reasonable.” Her voice only shook a little.
“Oh, come on. Don’t make me sound like a bigot. We’re talking about people who like beating each other for fun.” He spoke barely above a rasp.
“Sure, Ace.” She slung her purse on her shoulder. “Nice seeing you. Enjoy your meal.”
Anger raged across his face, but she made herself ignore it. She turned and walked out of the restaurant before she could hear his reply.
Once alone outside, Gwen closed her eyes, trying to calm her hammering heart. She’d never been good with confrontation, but that… He’d sounded so judgmental. He’d actually blamed her for being stalked. She was going to be sick.
Making her way across the lot toward the bus stop, she glanced around. Why did every car coming in or out of the lot seem to crawl past too slowly, every driver watching her too closely?
Gwen dug her house keys out of her purse, slipping one key between her fingers so that the end stuck out like a spike. If anyone came near her, she’d stab them in the eye.
It wasn’t much, but if she was lucky, Master Archer’s teaching would help her change her odds.
Gwen hurried for the bus that pulled up to the stop. Ace was right about one thing. If she reported the stalking to another cop, he’d likely do the same as Ace had done. He’d blame her.
Seated on the bus, she shook her head at her stupidity in getting into Ace’s car. Damn you, Ace. Sometimes I wish I was an only child.
4
Get Over It
The blaring of her alarm woke Gwen way too early the next morning.
She groaned and slapped the alarm off, burrowing deeper under the covers. Outside, a siren wailed in the distance. Damn Ace and his dickishness. His words from last night floated up, mocking her.
You’re surrounded by weirdoes and psychos all day. Are you surprised one of them might have latched on to you?
Stalking doesn’t happen in Haven.
Step into the lion’s den, you’re gonna get bit.
Fuck. To top it all off, he’d had the nerve to try and set her up again. Like she was too helpless to be on her own. Brother’s duty, my ass.
She’d called the flower shop last night and asked who ordered the roses, hoping for some information, but didn’t get anything helpful. The order had been placed by phone and paid for by a prepaid Visa card. She asked for a name, and the shop manager told her they couldn’t give that information.
Another dead end.
At least Master Archer had agreed to teach her self-defense.
A bolt of that same unsettled nervousness raced through her at the thought of him. The intense way he looked at her, the dark, foreboding scowl he wore, as if he might order her to her knees any second. Everything about him screamed Dom. She was used to Doms at The Sanctuary, excluding Nick, though interactions were minimal, and none had a presence like Master Archer. They didn’t make her skin hum.
Strange, that Master Archer’s forcefulness left her struggling not to stammer around him. She wasn’t a sub, so why did his domineering manner leave her body scorching every time he looked at her?
Tonight would be her first class with him. Would he put his hands on her? A pleasant shiver raced through her at the thought of him correcting her posture, running his hands over places that went beyond what training required.
What would it be like if he ordered her around? Punished her when she didn’t do what he said? Her nipples hardened and she squirmed into the mattress.