I rest my hand on his sides, moving it up his body. I take in every little feature that I've missed over the years. There are a few new tattoos and scars that cover his body, but all in all, it's still the Arthur Stone that I know. The one that I'd fallen in love with since I was a little girl.

I toss aside his hair and rest my palm on his cheek, gentle enough so I don't wake him. He still has that little scar on his right eyebrow. I remember when he bumped his head getting to the back of the van. It was the first time that he got drunk and I had to babysit him.

I run my thumb along it and let the memory take me back. The hair still doesn't grow in that spot, giving a bad boy look.

I turn my body around and nestle up into him, letting the warmth of his body take hold of mine. Instinctively, his arm tightens around me and brings me closer to his chest. He doesn't wake up or stir otherwise.

Everything about this feels so familiar and safe. When it feels like the world around me is crashing, King is here to hold it on his massive shoulders. Throwing and ripping the world apart to make sure that I'm safe and protected.

I know for a fact that I would never be able to get through this without him. Not with Tommy chasing me relentlessly.

Should I be giving myself to King this easily?

What if it ends like before?

Has he really changed or is this just a trick to win me back until his attention falls on another woman?

Part of me wants to jump out of bed and throw him out of the apartment. To make him pay for all the years of hurt he's given me. The wound inside my heart is still there, although not nearly as big as before.

The other part of me wants him to never leave my side. This feeling of having someone in my life is something that I've dearly missed. Someone who looks forward to seeing me when we get home from work. The feeling of being wanted.

King insists that he made a mistake before. That he let his inexperience and jealousy get in the way of our relationship. That he's matured and won't ever make the same mistake. And I can see that he's trying his best to prove it.

Only time will tell if I can forgive him or not. If I let the past be the past and focus on the present and future. To give myself to Arthur "King" Stone once more.

Last night might have been fun, but that doesn't mean I should just drop my guard. That would be foolish of me.

Everything in the last month has shown me that King is serious about making this work. The distance he's willing to go to protect me and catch Tommy. Sleeping on the couch and rocking me to sleep every night while I'm just a bumbling mess. No one has ever done that much for me in my life.

I bite down on the side of my lip and pull myself from his arms. I need more time to think. A cup of coffee and maybe a cupcake should help clear my mind. After last night's workout, I think I deserve that much at least.

I tip toe to the kitchen and brew two cups of coffee. The soft pitter patter of the coffee hitting the metal carafe sounds off in the apartment. I lay down on the sofa and let the smell waft through the apartment, stealing glances toward the bedroom and at King. I dig into my cupcake and stare out the window, watching Portland wake up around me.

This could be our new home. A new beginning to put everything behind us. Of course, we would probably need to move out of this apartment. I don't think I can be here after what Tommy's done. Even if we catch him.

I open the garbage bin and drop the cupcake cup into it. A familiar chirp sounds from the bedroom. I pump my arms and run there.

I pick his phone off the floor and shut the door behind me, King stirring in his sleep. I don't want him to wake up. After his performance last night, he needs the sleep more than I did.

I glance at the caller ID, recognizing Cat's cell number. Maybe, she has some news about Tommy. I can feel the excitement pouring out of me.

If Cat's calling there's a chance that she's made a break in her investigation. It might even be enough to get the fucker arrested and locked up.

"Hello," I whisper, trying my best to keep my voice down. I pour myself a cup of coffee, dropping two lumps of sugar and a couple drops of hazelnut cream..

I was in a sweet mood today.

"Camilla? Is King there?" she says in a hurry. It's almost like she's out of breath.

My voice goes up a couple octaves as I set the two coffees down. "He's asleep. What's the matter? Is it about Tommy?" I hold the phone next to my ear with my shoulder while I bring a nail to my teeth. I clamp down on it and pull nervously at it.

It's a old, bad habit that I've mostly gotten rid of until now.

There's something about Cat's voice that's making me uneasy. Like some thing's happened that isn't according to her plan.

"I've got the fucker. I got a nice, clean picture of him after he left my house. I've been tailing him for the last week, nothing unusual. That is, until he came to install those locks for me." Her voice trials off and I feel my heart almost jump out of my throat. I can just imagine her walking around her apartment taking a puff of her cigarette in victory. "I caught him, Camilla."

I clap my hands together with excitement. "What do you mean?" I shout into the phone. Loud enough that I'm sure King will wake up. I can't contain my emotions.

If she's telling the truth, then my worst fears are in the past. I can put Tommy and the whole stalking business behind me. I can get the police to listen to me and arrest him.

I can start to focus on my art. Move out of here. And maybe even start something with King.

A possible relationship. One that's better than before.

"Before he left my house, he asked to use my bathroom. At the time, I didn't think anything about it. But when the fucker left, there was this weird smile on his face." I take a sip of my coffee, my hand shaking in glee. "As soon as I closed the front door, I rushed to the bathroom," she stutters. I hear the flick of a lighter on her end. Cat takes a couple puffs of her newly lit cigarette.

"How did you catch him if he left?" I ask.

"I didn't catch him. In my bathroom, right above the toilet, is a vent. The creep put a camera in my vent. There's no doubt in my mind that he put it when he went to the bathroom. I could tell by that stupid grin of his."

"A camera?" I ask.

That's when my heart stops. The cup in my hand falls to the ground and crashes, sending porcelain fragments and hot coffee flying in all directions. It spatters on my skin and on the white cabinets in the kitchen, yet I don't feel it. King's cell drops into the puddle of coffee.

That's 'cause I'm already rushing to the bathroom. I can hear Cat yelling from the phone, but I'm already inside the bathroom. I flick on the lights and angle my head until I can see up the vent.

A couple seconds pass until a red light flickers on for a split moment and turns off. It does it again a couple seconds later. It's clear as day now that I know it's there.

I drop the lid of the toilet and jump up on it. I dig my nails into the vent and pull with what little strength I have. The screws come undone and a shower of chipped paint and dust falls on my head.

I stand on the tip of my toes and force my hand down the vent. The tip of my fingers touch plastic and I grip with my nails, pulling back with all my might. The camera falls out of my hand and onto the floor, the lens pointing up in my direction.

Covered in dust and chips of paint, I ease my way off the toilet. The red dome light under the lens flickers and turns off.

This can't be happening right now. My head shakes on its own.

How long has that been there?

Days?

Weeks?

Months?

He's been watching me this whole time. Every intimate and private moment has been captured by that creep. I can almost see that stupid smile of his as he watches me from his dark cave.

I slam my foot down on the camera. Again. And again.

There's a surge of pain, but I don't stop. Not until it's a pile of broken pieces on the ground. I drop to the ground and sink my head between my legs. I grip at my hair and feel disgusted with myself.

Questions bounce through my head.

What does he want with me?

Why is he doing this?

Why won't he just leave me alone?

Someone's hands envelop me and bring me close. I look up to see King holding me, his eyes on the broken pieces of plastic at my feet. There's a trail of blood from the pieces to my soles. King grabs a towel and wraps it around my feet.

After-wards, he picks me up and takes me away. All I can do is point at the broken pieces on the ground, incoherent words leaving my throat. I don't know what to say. I can't keep doing this. He's destroying every part of me.

King sets me down and rocks along with me. He nods to all my words and mutterings, holding me hard against his chest.

Protecting me like always.

Chapter 15.

King leaves me on the couch while he pokes around the house. He figures that since Tommy has already broken in he might have a chance to sneak more cameras around the house. King isn't wrong.

It doesn't take him long to find other cameras. The creep set one up in every room, including the bedroom. King pulls out the batteries and drops them on the living room table. The sight of them makes me want to throw up.

Just when everything is getting a little bit back to normal this has to happen. Something inside of me wants to throw gasoline all over my things and just burn the whole loft down. Be done with the intrusion of privacy and Tommy. Then, King and I can move to Hawaii and get the fuck away from all of this.

This whole time, Tommy's known every step that I've taken. Nothing is my own anymore.

Not my loft.

Not my life.

"None of the information is stored in the cameras. It seems like they send it out through your wireless internet. He probably has everything saved somewhere." King sits down next to me, draping a hand over me and pulling me in.

Great! So the fucker can watch me whenever he wants. Even if we have all his damn cameras.

I pick up one of the cameras from the table and hurl it across the room. It hits the wall next to the art frame King put up days ago, making it fall to its side. The camera shatters into pieces and King doesn't say anything.

I shudder at the idea that these things have been watching me all around the house.

Every time I'm in the bathroom. When I spend nights watching my favorite reruns. Even when I take some time to myself. A shiver rolls through me and I push away King. I regret it the second his body leaves mine, but I can't take this anymore.

"I can't be here right now. I don't feel safe." I grab my purse and walk toward the door. King beats me to it, pressing his palm against it. I shoot a look his way that I'm sure would kill a tiger in its tracks. I can't have him holding me in here. Not now.

"We can't leave." I'm about to protest when he grabs hold of my wrist to calm me. "Not yet at least. I've got Cat making her way here right now. We need to hear everything that she found out." His hand moves up my arm and caresses me. He smiles for a moment before he looks at the living room table. His eyes grow cold and he squeezes the side of my arm a little too hard. "We'll catch the fucker. Don't you worry."

I nod at his words. I walk toward the kitchen and pour myself another cup of coffee. With a shaking hand, I bring the cup to my mouth and close my eyes, trying to just remember the fun I had last night.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath.

King rushes to my side, his eyes looking out the kitchen window at me. "What is it?"

The mug hits the counter top hard, drops of coffee flying everywhere. "He knows."

King turns his head to the side like a confused puppy. His upper lip rises a little and gives way to one of his canine teeth. If I wasn't having the worst realization yet, I might have leaned over and kissed his confusion away.

"That night with the axe. He must have gotten angry when he saw us kissing on my bed. And I'm almost sure he must have seen last night. What if?" I stop myself and shake my head.

"He won't be to happy about last night," King finishes my thought. He turns on the heel of his foot and makes his way back to my bedroom. When he comes out, I can see the gleam of the pistol in hand before he puts it in the crevice of his back. "Just in case," he says when he sees me staring at it.

"What do you think he'll do?" With an uneasy hand, I bring the hot black coffee back to my mouth. I need this right now. I can't handle anything else.

"Well, if he brings a axe to the door when we make out, I want to be ready after he sees what I did to you last night." He smirks at me and eyes me for a moment. There's no doubt in my mind that he's picturing me naked right now.

There's a warm, bubbly feeling in my stomach and I hold back laughter. "This isn't a good time for that." Although, I can't help but rub my legs together and look down below his waist.

"Is it ever a good time?" he asks, slinking across. He throws his hands out in front of me as he strides toward me. He walks up to me and does a little spin before his hand grabs hold of my back and pulls me close. Coffee stains mark his white t-shirt, but he doesn't care.

His hand glides across my face and moves aside the hair. My mouth opens wide, ready for his descending lips. When he's inches away from making me lose my damn mind, there's a knock at the door.

Both of our heads shoot to the door and wait. There's another knock.

King holds a finger to his lips and lets go of me, his hand reaching for the gun at his belt loop. With it in hand and finger on the trigger, he looks into the peephole of the door.

I'm frozen in place until he lets out a sigh of relief. The gun goes behind his back and he swings the door wide open.

Cat struts inside, a folder under her armpit. "You're not going to believe what I found out about this asshole. I need something to drink before I can break it all down," she says, shaking her head and dropping the folder onto the kitchen counter-top.

She grabs a mug off a hanger and pours herself some coffee. She opens the fridge for the creamer and pours herself half of it, along with a few cubes of sugar which swim like tiny icebergs before melting. In one chug she downs the coffee and slams the mug on the counter like she was at the local bar.

"I needed that." She makes her way toward the folder. She opens it wide and a bunch of papers and photos fly across the counter top. "You're not going to be too happy about this." Cat takes one of the pieces of paper from the pile of folders and hands it over to me.

It's a photocopy of a student ID. The name of the local college is in the right corner with a picture of Tommy in the opposite one.

"Is that him? The guy who did your locks?" she asks.

It's him all right. The only difference is that he was maybe a couple years younger in the ID. Like he had taken the picture when he first started college. The Tommy that fixed my locks was rougher around the edges.

"Pretty much." I set the photo down and feel my stomach churning. I almost want to throw up.

King turns the picture toward us, tapping his finger on the paper. "How did you manage this kind of pull?"