Lucas cringed, but then what she said sunk in. He’s watching me.
She was pointing toward the bedroom. He didn’t have a camera in her bedroom.
“What? No, not in the bedroom,” he said.
She stared at him. “It is. You have to believe me. He knew I was in bed. Knew what I was wearing. He was—he was—”
She wasn’t making any sense. “Okay, okay.” He pulled her close, to try to soothe her panic. “Shh. Let’s get you calmed down and then we can figure out what to do.”
“No, you have to call the police. My phone’s in there. I couldn’t go back in there—I couldn’t.”
“I know, sugar, I know.” He slid his palm up her back and cradled her head. Her warm breath stuttered against his neck as her arms slipped around his waist. For a second, he was lost in the sensation of her soft, firm body pressed against him.
Then she pulled away. “Police,” she muttered. “We’ve got to call the police.”
Lucas forced his brain back to his problem. He needed a couple of minutes to think. To figure out why she thought there was a camera in her bedroom. And he needed to get her terror under control—fast.
“Come on,” he said gently, leading her to the kitchen. “Let’s get you a glass of water. Sit down.” He quickly fixed a glass of ice water and handed it to her.
He watched while she drank it. Her pale cheeks had regained a little bit of color by the time she’d downed about half of it.
“That’s good.” He sat on his haunches in front of her. “Now tell me why you think there’s a camera in your bedroom, and who you think put it there.”
She choked a little on the water and coughed.
“Shh. It’s okay. Take your time. Is the bedroom camera the only one you’ve found?” Some protector he was. She was terrified and his first thought was to cover his ass. He held his breath, waiting for her to answer.
“The only one? Oh, my God. Do you think there are more?”
“No.” He took the glass and set it on the table, then held her hands in his. “No. Shh. I was just checking. You said he called you. Who?”
“Doug Ramis. He called me and he knew I was in bed. And then he said he liked me in red pajamas.” Her cheeks lost color again. “He could see me, Lucas! He could see me. How else would he know? Please! Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me he couldn’t see me. I can’t believe anybody would do that. It’s so perverted.” She shuddered again.
Lucas couldn’t quite sort out what she was talking about, but he did hear her say, “It’s so perverted.”
She was going to despise him. “Who’s Doug Ramis?”
“I dated him a few times. Three. Three times. He thinks we’re—” she gestured aimlessly “—soul mates or something.”
Could he be the bland guy who’d been hanging around her building? Lucas made a mental note to show her a photo of him.
“Maybe he’s seen your pajamas before? Maybe he was just guessing?”
“No! No. Of course he hasn’t seen my pajamas.” For an instant, indignation overcame her panic. “He couldn’t have just guessed. He. Saw. Me.“
“Okay, shh. Here. Finish your water.” He handed the glass back to her, then looked toward the bedroom. “You turned the light off?”
She nodded. “So he couldn’t see me.” A brittle laugh escaped her lips. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No. I’m going to get your phone. You said it’s in there?”
She nodded. “I dropped it on the bed.”
“Do you have any idea where the camera might be?”
“No.” She shuddered. “I never thought about where it was.”
“That’s okay. Wait right here.” He rose and started toward the bedroom.
“Lucas?”
“Yeah?”
“How—how did you show up just in time?”
That took longer than he thought it would. She was too smart. He put on a grin. “Hey, sugar. That’s what knights in shining armor do, right?”
His lame joke didn’t earn him a smile. Her chocolate eyes went wide and something he couldn’t identify shone from their depths.
He went into the bedroom and closed the door, shutting out the light from the living room. He wished he had an infrared light, so he could see without being seen through the camera. But he didn’t, so he stood still until his eyes adapted to the darkness. He wasn’t about to turn on the light and risk the guy seeing him.
He felt around in her bed for her phone. To his body’s delight and his brain’s dismay, the sheets were still warm from her heat. He took a deep breath, hoping to tamp down his body’s automatic response. But he only succeeded in filling his nose with the scent of chocolate. He shook his head. That had to be his imagination.
His fingers closed around the phone and he pocketed it. Staying low, he swept the room with his gaze. If there was a camera, it would be positioned on the wall opposite the bathroom. At least that’s where he’d mount it.
It was damned hard to see with only the dim light from the curtained windows, but he scrutinized the chest of drawers and dresser that sat against the wall.
A decorative clock hung on the wall above the chest. He looked from it to her bed to the bathroom door. That would be his choice for the best vantage point. He carefully took it down and opened the back.
And there it was. Lucas stared at the familiar shape. It was state of the art, almost as sophisticated as the ones Dawson had loaned him. He didn’t see a microphone. So it was visual only.
Anger hit him like a hot blast of wind. The slimy skunk who was spying on her deserved to spend the rest of his life in prison for stalking. Quelling his urge to smash the clock and the camera inside it against the wall, he pried the camera loose and lifted it out using his handkerchief. He made sure the clock still worked and then repositioned it on the wall.
“Try to spy on her now, you bastard!” he muttered as he pocketed the camera and headed back into the living room.
“Did you find it?” She met his gaze. “You did!” Her hands covered her mouth again. “There really was a camera.”
Lucas wiped a hand down his face. “This Doug guy—that’s who you were talking about, isn’t it?”
“Talking about?”
“When you said another stalker, it’s him?”
She bit her lip and nodded.
Son of a bitch.
Angela was under a double threat. Not only was she in danger from a Chicago crime boss who wanted to use her as leverage against her ADA brother, but she was also being stalked by an obsessed ex-boyfriend.
He had his work cut out for him now. He’d given her a throw-away answer to her question of how he’d shown up just in time, but as Brad had said earlier, Angela was smart—and quick.
She’d ask him again, as soon as she was over the worst of her fear.
And what was he going to say?
Sugar, your brother sent me here to protect you from a hired hit man. The deranged ex-boyfriend is just a bonus. You know, lagniappe. Oh, and by the way, I’ve been watching you through hidden cameras, too.
“Yeah,”