Page 107 of Hot As Ice

She looks stunned. “Joe?”

“Yup. Got the IP address of whoever sent the tip to the paper. Got Jamie’s cop cousin to trace it. It was Joe’s IP address.”

“You did all that…for me?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

I flip the finished omelet onto a plate and pull out a chair, sitting down next to her. “I just don’t know how that prick found out about our arrangement. I’m trying to track him down so I can ask him and then beat him to death.”

“You sound serious.”

“I am.”

“Hunter, he’s not worth it.”

“Let me worry about that, alright?”

We eat in silence for a few minutes. I think about what Stevie said, about needing to get strong. I actually do know what she means. Because my whole life I’ve felt like I was never able to stand up to my dad. It fills me with deep shame.

Lately I’ve been thinking that strength is more mental than physical. I might be taller and more muscular than my father, but I revert to a four-foot-tall third grader anytime I’m around him. It’s pathetic, and yet I seem powerless to stop it.

“You don’t need to get strong. You are strong,” I tell Stevie. “You just need to believe that about yourself.”

She shifts in her seat, looking down at her food with a somber expression. “I never told you that Joe has been harassing me.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to make it your problem.”

I throw my fork down. “Stevie.” I take a deep breath through my nose to try and calm down. “Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?”

“Don’t get mad.”

“Too late.” I grab my plate with the half-eaten omelet and throw it in the sink. The plate shatters and Stevie flinches. “Fuck. Can this month get any worse?” I face Stevie. “What has he been doing?”

She won’t look at me. “He keeps showing up in different places and threatening me. He was…at your dad’s reception.”

My jaw clenches so hard I think my teeth will break. “What did you just say?”

She looks at me finally, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He was one of the waiters somehow.”

“Fuck!” I’m going to tear that motherfucker limb from limb.

Stevie starts sobbing, and I realize I’m scaring her. I walk over to her and gently lift her from her seat. I wrap my arms around her and press her to me. She buries her face in my chest. I rub her back and make soothing noises even as rage churns inside me like lava.

Joe is a dead man.

thirty-four

stevie

HUNTER HOLDS ME until I stop crying.

I thought he would yell at me and make me leave for keeping things from him, but he’s being so sweet. My heart can’t handle it. And he rescued me again last night. He must be so sick of constantly being the knight to my pathetic damsel-in-distress routine. I’m definitely sick of myself.

I lift my head to look into Hunter’s face. His eyes are stormy. But he looks more worried than angry.