I don’t want Foxy to know how excited I’m getting just at the thought of seeing her naked. She doesn’t need to know that I’m getting turned on just by the idea of us being together. Foxy had a long night. She doesn’t need another guy trying to chase after her. At least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself right now.
“What do you say, sir?” She winks, seemingly oblivious to my inner turmoil. “Care to drive a lady home?”
“Hell no,” I say, shaking my head. Instantly, I’m no longer turned on. Now I’m just worried about her again. This creep found her, hunted her, and now she wants to go home? Yeah, that’s not happening. We need to find out who he is, what he wants, and what his evil plans are. Then we’ll be able to figure out where to go from there.
And I can figure out how I’m going to kill the guy who made Foxy cry.
“What?” She seems shocked that I told her no. I realize that it’s not a word she hears very often, but I know she understands the finality of what I’m saying.
“Foxy, we still don’t know who did this. I’ll take you home for all of five minutes, but only so you can get your phone and your other stuff. Then we’re coming right back here to figure this out. You’ll stay with me until it’s sorted. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you alone at your house. I’m definitely not dropping you off,” I shake my head.
“Really?” She whispers. Then she hesitates and looks around. At first, I think she’s just avoiding eye contact, but then I realize that there’s more to it. Is she taking in the kitchen? Checking out her hideaway for the next few days? It’s a cute setup. I’ll be the first to admit that my kitchen scheme really does look like something out of a summer catalog. I’ve got gingham curtains and a red checkered tablecloths and little pictures of chickens on the wall.
It’s cute beyond recognition, but that’s my style. I love baking and making pies and cookies and pleasing people, and I like putting people at ease.
My entire home is designed to make people feel like they can relax and unwind when they’re in my space. I don’t know whether I’ve succeeded with this or not, but damn if I’m not doing my best.
“Really.”
“You know,” she says carefully. “Maybe I don’t need to go home? I can probably log in from your phone?”
“To Team Shifter?”
“Yeah. I know my login information. It doesn’t have to be on my specific phone. You know how some apps make you verify your phone number every time?” She shakes her head. “This one doesn’t make you. I can just sign in using my email address.”
“Good idea.” I’m a little embarrassed I didn’t think of that, but whatever. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and set it on the counter between us, and then I nod at it. I have no qualms at all about Foxy using my phone. In fact, I like this idea better since it means she’s not going to have to go anywhere or talk to anyone. There’s going to be no risk at all of someone finding her or chasing her or hurting her. We won’t have to go to her house and wonder if anyone is there watching us. This keeps things simple.
She takes the phone and downloads the app. Then she logs in and she stares at the phone. I’m looking at it upside down, so I’m not sure what’s happening at first. She grimaces, and the scent of tension fills the air.
“What is it?”
“He messaged me.”
I gesture for her to hand the phone over, and I’m surprised and satisfied when she does. It’s not that I’m trying to be nosy, but I want to help her. Anything this guy has to say could be a sort of clue that lets us know exactly who he is and what he wants. I’m glad that we aren’t doing the playing coy thing where we aren’t being forthcoming. She’s allowed to say whatever the hell she wants to other people, no matter how naughty or erotic or sensual those things might be, but I need to know what the conversations she had with this tiger included. Anything he said to her could be a clue. Maybe he said something and it didn’t even register as being important at the time. There could be something that she missed that I pick up on.
“It’s bad,” she says, warning me before I read his most recent messages, and my heart plummets when I see that she’s right. Sure enough, the guy spammed her with messages after their failed meeting. The things he wrote are cruel and unkind and some of them are downright fucked up. More than that, they’re threatening.
My inner-lion growls, begging to come out. I can’t shift right now. As much as I want to shift into my lion form and go run and attack something or fight someone, I can’t do that now. I have to stay strong for her. I’ve got to hold myself together long enough to help her.
As I look through the messages, scouring for anything that’s actually helpful and not just an insult or a complaint about how the date went, Felicity grows more and more uncomfortable. She starts wiggling in her seat, agitated.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “We’re going to find out who did it.”
“I trust you,” she says carefully, and somehow, those words just go right to my heart. I’m not going to tear up over something like this, but part of me wants to. The knowledge that she trusts me is incredible to me. Felicity has been through a lot. She’s been through so much that honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if she never wanted to trust anyone ever again, yet she’s putting herself out there. She’s trying.
“Henry can help us,” I decide, closing the app. I set my phone down and look at Felicity. She’s sitting there patiently, wide-eyed.
“The bakery guy?” She raises an eyebrow.
“The bakery guy.”
“What does he know?”
“More than you think.”
“Try me,” she urges.
“He studied at M.I.T. He’s actually kind of a genius.”