The Dare Collection: August 2018. Avril Tremayne

eyes met mine. “What?”

      “I know you want me, too, so I guess I won’t be the only one suffering, huh?”

      She didn’t answer, not that I was expecting one.

      We both retreated into our thoughts as we exited the plane.

      The ride Maggie had organized was a sturdy SUV with darkened windows, which I appreciated. Sadly, there were a million ways for stalkers to spy on their victim these days, and a million ways for victims to respond if they felt powerless.

      The thought triggered a question that helped to drag my attention off Lily’s small but perfect body and thoughts of what I wanted to do to her. “Do you own a gun?” I asked after stashing our bag and hopping into the driver’s seat.

      Her eyes widened as she shut her door. “A gun? Why would I own a gun?”

      “Don’t look so surprised. You’d be shocked by how many people exercise their right to carry a firearm. I don’t want to be surprised down the road.” I rolled my shoulder as unwelcome thoughts of Kirsten, my ex, and phantom pain from my bullet wound registered.

      Lily caught the movement, questions filling her eyes as she replied, “No, I don’t own a gun. And I don’t intend to arm myself, regardless of this situation.”

      “Good.”

      She kept quiet, until curiosity got the better of her. “Were you—?”

      “You’ve pried enough for one night, Lily. Let’s focus on why I’m here, okay?” The snap in my voice made her flinch, but I didn’t regret it.

      I stuck to a quieter, longer route from the airport to Lily’s address in Menlo Park. She started to fidget when we turned into the tree-lined road that housed a row of impressive mansions.

      “Will your guys still be there?”

      I checked the time on the dashboard. “No. Maggie texted me when they left. They’ll come back tomorrow to take care of the security inside the house.”

      Surprise widened her eyes. “Oh. Thanks.”

      I glanced over to see her worrying the inside of her lip again. “You’re welcome. Wanna tell me why having them inside the house makes you so nervous?”

      She averted her gaze. “I’m not comfortable with strangers invading my space,” she muttered.

      I sensed she wasn’t being entirely truthful but let the matter drop. “Okay.”

      She looked relieved as I checked out our surroundings.

      Half of the properties were displayed in all their sprawling glory, but the other half were hidden behind palm and fir trees. Many places for a stalker to hide.

      Lily pulled out her phone and hit a button on the screen, nodding at the property coming into view. “It opens the gates.”

      The electronic gates were swinging open much too slowly. “They need to open faster. You don’t want to be a sitting duck out here while the gate takes its sweet time to let you in. I’ll get it fixed.”

      She nodded. “Okay.”

      When the gap widened, I drove through. Compared to the other houses on the street, hers was on a smaller scale but still impressive enough to blend comfortably into the neighborhood.

      Built on two levels with a tapered roof, the tiered white European-style mansion took up several thousand square feet, with tall rectangular paned windows that drew an inward grimace. All her stalker needed was a decent set of binoculars and he could follow her every move when she was home. And that second floor tier was also a problem especially if my suspicion that one or all of the bedrooms came with a terrace overlooking the backyard was confirmed.

      The front door looked solid enough, though. I couldn’t do anything about the Roman pillars framing the front porch, but the seven-foot potted plants on either side of the door needed to be relocated.

      She opened her door and jumped out. I stopped myself from growling my annoyance and got out, reaching her just as she climbed the last step onto the stone-laid porch.

      I touched her upper arm. “Wait.”

      Apprehension flickered across her face. “Your security people were just here. Surely you—?”

      “Can’t be too careful. Keys?”

      She dug through her satchel and handed the keys over. I unlocked the door and saw a large foyer.

      “There’s a light switch on your left,” she said.

      I flicked it on, bathing the large space in a warm golden glow. An alarm beeped from a panel next to the switch. I entered the code.

      Silence settled in as I took in the layout of the first floor. Two short corridors forked from the entrance foyer on either side of a grand staircase made of wood and trellised iron. At the end of the left hallway, I saw shadowy frames of sofas and a coffee table, which meant the right hallway probably led to the kitchen.

      I motioned her inside and turned the dead bolt on the door. “Stay here. I’ll check out the other rooms,” I murmured. The gun I’d tucked in my back before we left the airport rested reassuringly against my skin.

      She sucked in a slow breath before her gaze met mine. “I prefer to come with you,” she whispered firmly.

      The statement wasn’t made out of fear of being on her own. No, Lily was nervous.

      The possible reason why hit me with a punch. “Do you live here alone?” I demanded.

      “What if I do?” Her chin rose, daring me to have a problem with it.

      “Hey, I’m not judging.” The size of the house didn’t warrant the question. “I’d rather not surprise anyone at four in the morning.”

      Her gaze swept away. “Oh, right. No, there’s no one else here,” she murmured.

      “Okay, you can come. Just stay behind me, got it?”

      She jerked out a nod, albeit a distracted one.

      There were no surprises in the kitchen or the pantry, same for the sizeable laundry room. I double-checked the outer doors to make sure they were locked before inspecting the other rooms on my way into the living room.

      I guessed the reason for her uneasiness a few minutes later.

      The two living rooms connected by a long entryway with a door leading to a study weren’t exactly untidy, but they weren’t pristine, either.

      A discarded throw on one side of the sofa, an empty glass on the table, cushions on the floor in front of a marble fireplace. Over one arm of another sofa, a tank top draped precariously with a black lace bra tucked into the sleeves. Besides the superficial untidiness, all the surfaces were clean, and the decor was tasteful enough to show someone cared enough to make the house a home.

      However, when I glanced over, her cheeks were pink, adorable shades of strawberry over the cream.

      “So I’m not the tidiest person in the world,” she said defensively. “When I’m buried in work I forget to pick up after myself. And I gave my housekeeper time off, so...” She shrugged, then skirted the sofa, her gaze darting furtively around the room.

      “You like to be comfortable in your own space. Nothing wrong with that.” Except the sight of those plump cushions in front of the pale marble fireplace was restoking the fire she started on the plane.

      She snatched the tank and bra off the sofa and dropped them into a cabinet drawer.

      I dragged my gaze from her to properly study the room. Two sets of doors led outside. Lots of windows covered by expensive-looking drapes. All to be secured tomorrow.

      As if drawn by magnets, my eyes returned to the cushions, to the hint of bright pink poking out from between two cushions. Before I could confirm what it