She’d never understood the appeal to the whole, dom-submissive thing she’d read about. But, the picture Jake’s words drew in her mind’s eye was one of the most erotic things she’d ever imagined. If she wasn’t mistaken, the look Jake was giving her right now meant he was thinking the same thing.
Unfortunately, he blinked and, just like that, the heat was gone. Now, he was just looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to share the rest.
Olivia shifted in her seat again. “I started—”
Her voice cracked like a boy going through puberty, and she could actually feel a blush crawling up her neck. She cleared her throat and tried again.
“Before I came here, I started getting these phone calls. No heavy breathing or anything like that. Just silence and then they’d hang up.”
“They never spoke?”
Olivia shook her head. “Never. I changed my number, and they stopped. Then, one night, I got to my apartment, and there was a man waiting for me by my door.”
Worry spread across Jake’s face. “Did he hurt you? Did you call the police?”
“No, he didn’t hurt me. Yes, I called the police. He said he just wanted my autograph. When I politely turned him down, he got a little pushy and refused to leave. But, that’s all he did. When the police got there, they recognized him.”
“Name,” Jake practically growled.
“I’ll tell you, but you really need to chill. This is old news, and the guy has already been taken care of. Okay?”
Olivia knew Jake wanted to say more, but he only nodded.
“His name is Norman Rogers. The poor man is mentally ill, but he’s homeless, so he couldn’t get the care and medicine he needed. As a result, he’s been in and out of jail for most of his adult life. Just petty things, like trespassing, loitering, that sort of thing. Nothing violent. And before you ask, no, he’s not in jail, now.”
Jake started to speak, but she cut him off. “I made a few phone calls to my contacts at Dallas Regional and was able to get him admitted into the psych ward that night. After that, Norman was transferred to a secure mental health facility.”
Olivia was relieved to see some of the tension leave Jake’s shoulders. “It’s a non-profit place that specializes in patients like Norman. Ones who would otherwise be put back on the streets or stay in jail. Norman has no family, so the doctors there were able to get a judge to sign off on his admittance. He won’t be allowed to leave there without the court’s permission, and that will only happen after getting consistent medication and therapy for several months. Possibly years.”
Jake took a minute to process that information. “Okay. You said that was all before you moved here. So what’s happened since then?”
She didn’t even bother to lie. “Three weeks ago, I was on a break at work. My cell phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered it, but no one was there. At the time, I didn’t really think much of it. Then, that night, it happened again. I started keeping a log.”
She saw a muscle in his jaw bulge. “How many calls, Liv?”
Olivia bit her bottom lip, praying he didn’t freak out. “In two days’ time, I had forty-eight hang-ups. One every hour.”
Surprisingly, Jake’s only reaction was to take a deep breath in through his nose and let it out slowly. Then, he asked, “Did the caller ever say anything those times?”
“No. After that, I went to the police.”
He gave a slight nod of approval. “What did they say?”
“What I expected. That they’re a small department and aren’t equipped with the staff or resources to waste time worrying about prank phone calls. The deputy told me it was probably some overzealous fan who’d seen me on T.V. and was just too shy to actually speak once I answered.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “They told me to change my number again, so I did.”
There was a stretch of silence before Jake spoke again. When he did, he sounded angry. “Ryker didn’t say a word to me about any of this. What did he tell you? Did he figure out who the caller was?”
Olivia scrunched up her nose. “I...uh...never actually told him about it.”
Something flashed behind his eyes, but it was gone too quickly for her to decipher what it was.
“Why not?” he asked, barely controlling his anger.
She slumped back in her chair. “Jason’s job is to keep terrorists from attacking the US, not babysit me. He’d done so much to help me already by finding this place and getting me a new job. I wasn’t going to keep bugging him. Besides, I haven’t had a phone call since changing my number the second time.”
Jake rolled his lips in, and Olivia feared he was close to losing his control.
“Is there anything else, or are the phone calls it?”
His tone had changed, reminding her of the fierce warrior who’d led her through the jungle.
She didn’t want to tell him. He’d already seen her as a helpless female enough for one lifetime. She didn’t want to go back to that. Not with him.
Apparently, her hesitation in answering lasted too long. Jake expelled a loud, frustrated breath, his patience clearly wearing thin.
“I thought we were past this, Liv. There’s something you’re not telling me. The real reason you’re answering your door with a fucking gun in your hand.”
Olivia really, really hated how well he could read her because she didn’t want to share the rest with him. Didn’t want to appear any crazier than she already did.
Focused intently on her coffee, Olivia quietly answered. “Sometimes I feel like someone’s following me. I haven’t actually seen or heard anyone, but...I’ll be walking down the sidewalk or to my car at work, and out of nowhere, the little hairs on the back of my
