Slow Release (Ebony and Ivory Book 1) (16 page)

Damon

I sat in my chair, smoking a cigar and nursing a bourbon, as I watched Skye sleep in the pale moonlight illuminating the room.

I had to give it to her. What she said over dinner made sense. This was a vendetta that went far beyond business. I had worked with thousands of models over the years, and I was going to have to go back through my archives to see where they were now. Just the thought of it was overwhelming. Now, this stalker wasn’t just costing me sleep by making me worry about Skye. No, he was costing me time and money as well. This wasn’t the kind of job I could just pawn off on Marcus. I would have to be personally involved because I was the only one who would remember what issues each of the women might have had with me.

How fucking ironic was it that, for all these years, I went out of my way to be straight up with the women I slept with, and now that I was finally ready to settle down, my past was coming back to haunt me. Go figure.

At times, the industry I worked in could be a revolving door. So many women had come and gone it was impossible to keep up with them. Unless they ended up doing really well in their career, the memories just didn’t stick. It all became a blur, one model after another and all looking the same, until it was a sea of unknown names and faces. That was the primary reason I hired Skye. It was because she was different that she seared my soul with those blue eyes the second I saw her portfolio.

Modeling was as much a game of chance as it was about looks or talent. You could have everything that was needed, do all the right things, and still not make it in the industry. Then, there were situations like Skye’s where the first agent who saw you recognized your potential and turned you into a star.

I knew that if anyone could help me figure out the identity of this guy, it was Marcus. I didn’t just want to know who was doing this; I also wanted to know why. I wanted to make damn sure I didn’t make this mistake again. Maybe Skye was right. Maybe I was trying to rationalize something that couldn’t be rationalized.

“Hey, what are you still doing awake?” Her sleepy voice informed me she had just woken up.

“I can’t sleep. What are you going to do about it, Skye?”

“Come here.” She patted the bed beside her.

I tossed the last of my bourbon back and pulled my sweats off before I joined her in the large king sized bed where she lied nude. My body hovered over hers. I looked down into the baby blues that still sucked me into their depths the same way they had the first day I saw them.

Her legs opened and invited me into the haven I needed to give me relief from my troubled thoughts. Sliding into her depths was like making my way home after a long journey. This was where I needed to be. I felt secure inside the woman I loved where I knew I was the only one who had access to her. I didn’t have to worry if anyone could hurt her when she was wrapped up safely beneath me. I was selfish, protecting her because the thought of losing her weighed down too heavily on my soul, crushing me.

I pushed deeply into her core, rotating my hips so that my cock raked over her clit in perfect timing.

“Oh fuck, baby, you give me what I need.” I could feel her body clamping down on me, revealing to me that I was hitting her sweet spot. I loved knowing I brought her pleasure she had never before experienced. Her fingers raking down my back as she trembled beneath me sent me over the edge. Tonight, I would fall asleep with her body curled safely in my arms. I just hoped I would find her stalker before it was too late—before Skye, and the promise of our bright future, was ripped from my grasp in someone’s act of revenge.

Damon

I sat and watched Marcus roll his chair around the large plastic floor mat that enabled the movement. He tried to talk me into putting in a linoleum floor just so he could roll around, but I informed him that would never happen. Marble maybe, but linoleum, there was no chance. We’d come to the happy medium of installing short Berber carpet and putting down a large plastic mat.

“Damn, boss, how many women have you worked with?”

“Thousands,” I answered with no hesitation.

“How do you get all these beautiful women?”

“Years of work. Little by little, I made my way up the ladder of success. I invested money back into the modeling business and in real estate. Over the years, I made a name for myself. On another note, I believe Skye was on to something when she said we should look into people who felt like their dreams had been shattered.”

“What you should be looking at is if any of them had mental issues or drug problems you weren’t aware of. It’s going to take a little bit of work to find these girls and see where they all are now, so anything to narrow the scope of my search would be helpful. What you have to realize is this could be an effort to get you back for something that happened years ago. People underestimate stalkers; they’re anything but stupid. It takes skill to engineer what he’s done up until now. Have you thought about how he was able to get to that mural to deface it?”

“Yes, I have. I looked into it, and there was a lot of outsourcing. The bad news is there were so many people involved in setting up for that event that it wouldn’t have taken much effort for someone to get in unnoticed. The good news is that I don’t necessarily believe that someone from my inner circle has betrayed me anymore. I think we’re better off pulling these girls up in the system. Like you said, we’ll look for women with mental issues or drug problems first. These girls are screened when they’re hired so if that’s the case, someone purposely hid their medical history from us. If they were concerned about us knowing they had issues, then that tells me they were smart enough to realize it might keep them from getting hired. I think I would remember if I had an unstable model. This is someone who kept a lot of secrets, and there’s always one consistency with secrets—they always come out sooner or later. You do what you do and find them. I’ll do what I do and get ready for this first runway show that Skye has. Maybe we can finally put all this to rest and get on with Skye’s career. The poor girl has been subjected to too much drama for her to even enjoy her newfound success. One way or another, I have plans to put a stop to all this stalker shit.”

Skye

I stayed in my room to prepare for the runway show scheduled for tomorrow. The tedious beauty routine would keep me busy while Damon talked to Marcus.

I wondered what solutions they would come up with to try and find out who was behind all the drama we’d been dealing with lately. Whatever they decided to do, I just hoped it would get results.

Much of the stress of dealing with a stalker comes from not knowing who it is. As much as I tried to not let my mind run rampant with crazy scenarios, it has gotten to the point where I felt like I was constantly looking over my shoulder. There were only three people I trusted to not be the stalker: Damon, Jerome, and Marcus. As far as I was concerned, everyone else was suspect. It didn’t matter if they were male or female; no one was exempt.

Though my stalker didn’t hold me captive physically, he did mentally. I wondered if that was his intent—to always be in the forefront of my mind. A stranger, someone I didn’t even know, was always with me because he or she consumed my thoughts by using fear tactics.

Fear is a powerful assailant because it has the ability to control us against our will. Was that what he wanted? Control? How could it be enjoyable if he couldn’t see the effect of what he was doing to me? Maybe he could see; maybe he was watching me when I didn’t know it. For all I knew, the guy could be watching me through high-powered binoculars, and I wouldn’t have a clue.

Suddenly, the thought hit me that he might be watching Damon and me in our most intimate moments. Whether he was or not, the fact remained that he was right where I suspected he wanted to be—in my head.

The Stalker

I observed her all day today, and she had no idea. I watched her as she did all the things I assumed a model normally does before their very first runway show.

She’s beginning to excite me in ways I never expected. I suspect the reason I never anticipated feeling sexually charged by watching her is because it’s never been an issue before. I’ve been sexually excited by killing, but I’ve never been physically stimulated from just stalking.

I walked over to my coffee table and tried to push aside the thought of how much I enjoyed watching her from the wooded area surrounding Damon’s mansion. I was home now and ready to unwind. I busied myself cooking up the concoction that would give me release. It was a mixture that would bring me euphoria and blissful stamina, better known as a speedball. I tightened the belt around my arm and flicked my finger at my chosen vein. It plumped up nicely and protruded as if anticipating the drug that would soon be released into my system. The sound of the mixture sizzling in the spoon made my heart race. For me, the preparation of the drug was as much a part of the high as the drug itself. I pulled the potion into the syringe, tapping it to dislodge any air bubbles. Next, I felt the prick of the needle push into my skin and the rush of pulling the blood back into the syringe to confirm I hit the vein. Finally, I pushed the drug into my system, and then there was the rush.

Skye would know the pleasure that came with the concoction of my making tomorrow, and I’d be right there with her. I had to listen to her tell her lover that he introduced her to so many firsts. Well, I would introduce her to my own first. It would be so special, and we would share a rush so intense that the body never forgets the sensation. I would give her the pleasure of her first high.