Chapter 21

21

" D o your parents know yet?" Lenox questions and that catches my attention, drawing me back to the phone conversation.

I walk toward them, ending the conversation with Loomis. I have no answer I can give him. If she moves in here, I'll fuck her. I don't know how he hasn't realized that yet or maybe he doesn't care about that side of it. But I do. I care about that a lot. I was serious when I said the other night was the last time.

I may have kissed her in the elevator earlier, but I knew that was all it was going to be.

"Not yet. It's the middle of the night in Greece.

"I'm calling them."

Lenox isn't a big talker. He's the definition of the strong, silent type, but he's also the insanely loyal type. I had no illusions that he wasn't going to call her parents, and I'm sure Tinsley didn't either. A point she proves when she simply sighs and sags.

"I've got him," Vander exclaims and turns to Tinsley. "Terrance is in California. He met with his parole officer this afternoon, and it seems he is home since he used his credit card to order a pizza and is currently streaming a movie on his home television using a streaming service he pays for."

Tinsley starts to visibly shake, and I don't think twice about it. I don't question what the fuck I'm doing or who the fuck I'm doing it in front of. I walk over to her, lift her out of her seat, drop her back on my lap, and start rubbing her back. I get a quick, questioning look from her, and I know I'm getting something similar from everyone else in here, but so be it.

These are my trusted people, and if Katy already put it together, I have no doubt everyone else already had their suspicions.

Her look quickly fades when Greyson's voice comes through the phone, immediately filled with worry. "Lenox? What's up, man?"

Tinsley leans over the phone. "Hey, Dad. I'm sorry we're waking you and Mom, but something's come up." She relays the story yet again, from the engagement to the stalker, though this time, she informs him that this particular letter does not appear to be from this Terrance Howard guy.

"Hold on. You're telling me the press thinks you're engaged to Stone, and not only do you have a stalker again, but it's not the same guy as before?" I think Greyson is about to have a stroke, and I hear Fallon in the background, equally as upset.

"No, it's a copycat," Lenox jumps in. "I suppose there's the option that he had someone place a letter for him, but I don't see anything in his financials to indicate that he paid someone, and nothing on his phone or computer that speaks any communication about Boston, Tinsley, or letters. Vander, do you have the footage I just sent you?"

"Yes," he replies. "I'm pulling it up now."

"What is it?" Greyson asks.

"It's the warehouse cameras," Lenox clarifies. "Watch him. He knows what he's doing."

All of us hover around Vander's chair, leaning over his shoulder to watch the video of the cameras on the side of the building. There's only a small streak of black that comes and goes quickly, and then the front camera picks up where a guy—or, hell, it could be a woman for all we can tell—wearing all black, baggy, nondescript clothes drops the envelope on the porch and is immediately gone. It happens in under three seconds, and then poof. Evaporated."

"Where is he?" Tinsley asks, searching the other cameras.

"That's the thing," Lenox inserts. "He knew exactly where they were and the perfect points to evade them. After that, there are no other cameras in the area of the warehouse for five houses, and that camera shows no one resembling her person."

"So this person has either been staking out the warehouse or had insider information?" Owen questions.

"Seems that way," Vander agrees. "Could be either."

A tear hits her cheek, and then she laughs mirthlessly as she wipes it away. She climbs off my lap and goes back into the great room to retrieve the envelope. She slides it open and lays it flat on the table.

"Roses are red, violets are blue, you thought I was gone, but I always see you." She reads each word aloud slowly as if she's trying to absorb and seek the meaning and purpose of every syllable. "Huh," she muses after a beat. "A poem."

"Yeah? So?" Mason queries.

"Is that not his normal way of writing to you?" Keegan tacks on.

Tinsley looks up and shakes her head, only to speak aloud for those on the phone. "No. It's not. At least it wasn't for a while. When they first started, he did poems like this, but those stopped about six months in, and then it was only threats. Angry, violent threats. And those lasted over a year until he went to prison."

"It's a copycat of someone who knew what the early letters looked like," Vander surmises. "But why? Why pretend to be him?"

"Perhaps someone is just trying to scare you and thinks that's the easiest way." Kenna rolls her glass back and forth between her hands, her head tilted in contemplation. "It's not a violent letter, but they certainly want your attention."

"When did the news of the engagement break?" Mason asks.

"Around the same time the envelope was dropped," I answer. "I got the notification on my phone maybe five or ten minutes after the timestamp of that video."

"Yes, and we arrived about half an hour after that," Loomis supplies.

"Who had access to the original letters to know what they looked like and how they were worded?" Vander comes back with.

"The letters went public," Tinsley explains "They were evidence, and a lot of it became public disclosures or leaked. I don't know how many of his letters are online, but I'm sure there are at least of few of those."

Katy stands and starts to pace around the table. "So all of this could be found with a simple Google search. Okay. Easy enough. But who wants to scare you while making you think it's Terrance Howard? Right now, only we know it's a copycat, but that information wouldn't be difficult for law enforcement to figure out quickly considering he's across the country."

"You're suggesting the person who did this wants us to know it's not him though he's copying him?" Tinsley is at her wits' end, her hands running through her hair before she picks up her drink and downs half of it.

"Looks that way," I agree. "But who and why?"

"Simply put, it could be anyone for any number of reasons," Bennett says grimly, and we all grow silent. Are they only trying to scare her? Or is this the starting point to something more sinister?

"We're on our way home," Greyson states emphatically, and Tinsley immediately shoots to her feet.

"Dad, no. That's crazy."

"The hell it is! My little girl is being threatened by a new psycho."

"Stop. I love you, and I know you're scared, but I'm not a little girl. You have tour dates, and you're not canceling those. Besides, there isn't much you can do here."

"I don't care," he argues. "I don't like being so far from you with this. Especially when it's literally happening on my front doorstep."

"I don't need you to fly home. I mean it. It's a copycat and likely just some douche trying to rile me up. We'll send it to the FBI. For all we know, the loser was dumb enough to put his prints on it, and all this will be settled in a matter of days."

"Let's hope. Regardless, until they're behind bars, you're not staying at the warehouse," Loomis inserts.

"It has?—"

"Cameras. Yes, luv, I know." He cups her jaw and holds her gaze. "Yet we just proved this person knows where they are and how to hide from them. As far as I'm concerned, you've got three options. Stay there with me and an army of family and security by your side, and that will include sweeps of the building before you're allowed to enter, stay at my flat that has one bed, one bathroom, and a bloke who snores and hogs the blankets, or…" He trails off, but his eyes flash over to mine.

And fuck. Fuck!

"You'll stay here," I state loud enough for everyone, including the people on the phone to hear.

"What?!" she shrieks, and I lift my chin to meet her eyes, only to stand and peer down at her. Loomis steps away, and now it's just me and her .

"You're going to move in here until this gets resolved."

As much as I don't want her living here, she has to. I'll go out of my mind otherwise.

"No. Absolutely not."

"We'll be engaged," I continue, ignoring her protest. "The world already believes that, and we won't dispel it. Hell, we'll perpetuate it in public. People will become obsessed with it. Especially in Boston. That will keep you safe. My building has security including metal gates, a doorman, and cameras at every entry point, not to mention you require either a fob or a code to get to any floor, and we're on the top. Mason lives next door as an extra buffer, and ours are the only two apartments on this floor. Being engaged means you have a man on your arm, and you're not easily accessible. It means I'm your go-between in addition to Loomis or the security you will have with you at all times."

"I don't need a man on my arm," she grits out, furious with me. "I'm perfectly able to take care of myself."

I put my hand on her arm and squeeze it so she listens. She's defensive, and I get it. We're talking about limiting her freedom and telling her what she can and can't do. That's part of what drove her to come to the boat the first time. She needs freedom and a sense of autonomy and control. But now isn't the time for that.

"I know you're strong. We all do. None of us are saying you aren't. But this is bigger than one person can handle, and I know you know that. Copycat or not, someone is trying to, at the very least, scare you. Face it, you're going to be my fake fiancée whether you or I like it or not."

And I don't hear anyone arguing. Not her father or mother, not Lenox, not any of her friends. They know this is the right call and the way she stays safe.

"I'm not living here with you, Stone!" she snaps in frustration. "It's not happening. It can't happen. "

I take a step until I'm standing above her, staring straight into her eyes. "Tell me you're not scared."

Her head slides to the right, and her gaze goes with it. Un-uh. Not happening.

I clasp her chin and tilt her face back up to mine.

"Tell me," I demand.

"Fuck you."

"I'm not offering that. Will you be able to sleep in that warehouse tonight?"

"She's not sleeping in the warehouse," Greyson grits out. "Not tonight or any other night until this asshole is taken care of." He exhales a harsh sound. "Stone." My name is heavy, like a thud. Like he doesn't like this one bit but doesn't know what else to do. He doesn't want Tinsley staying here, and my guess is he already knows about our past. Tinsley is very close with her parents, and I have a feeling they wormed it out of her.

"She'll have her own wing," I tell both her and Greyson. "The guest bedrooms are on the other end of the condo from my room."

She's shaking her head, but I can tell she knows she's already lost the fight.

"Agree to this," I clip out. Doesn't matter if she does or not, I'll be her fucking shadow anyway. She tries to draw away, but I won't let her. I hold her arm tighter and force her to stay.

"Stop it," she screeches, trying to shove my chest the way she did the other night, but I'm not budging. "Give me space."

"Answer me, little rose."

"Little rose?" Owen repeats and then pauses, and I reluctantly lift my chin to him. It slipped out. I certainly never meant to call her that with an audience that includes all of our best friends and her parents. He stares at me before his gaze drops to my chest, but it's not my chest he's picturing. It's my back. "You have?—"

"Yes," I cut him off, because at this point, why deny it? But that doesn't mean I want Tinsley or her father to know about the tattoo I have there. Lenox never told Grey about what he tattooed on me, and why would he? He had no clue I was with Tinsley those ten days, nor did he know what the roses on the mast signified.

Tinsley didn't see it the other night because I took her mostly from behind or with her on top of me, and that was entirely by design. Plus, it was dark. She likely wouldn't have noticed it anyway.

"Fuck," he hisses under his breath and drags his hands through his hair.

"What?" Tinsley, followed by Wren, questions.

"Nothing," Vander and Mason bark, and yeah, this is going from bad to worse.

I drag her chin to me, getting us back to the issue at hand. "You're staying here. Tomorrow, we will have your security bring us to the warehouse to collect your things. Vander and Lenox will work on the copycat, and Greyson will continue doing his shows, so no one thinks anything is off. That's the plan. Now we both have to live with it."