Guarding Gemma by Fern Fraser

Author:Fern Fraser [Fraser, Fern]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-22T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Dylan

Gemma's laughter echoes through the marble foyer as we enter her penthouse apartment, the sound at odds with the day's emotional toll. She glances at me over her shoulder, blue eyes sparkling.

“I can't believe I made you blush at the bridal shop. Who knew big, tough ex-military guys could get flustered?”

I force a smile, trying to match her lighthearted tone. My mind is still back at the boutique, holding Gemma as she broke down. Seeing her so distraught tore at my heart.

She heads to the kitchen, calling, “Want something to drink?”

“Water, thanks,” I reply automatically, my senses on high alert.

I walk behind, surveying the open-concept living space for any signs of intrusion. Everything appears untouched, but I won't relax my vigilance. Not with a dangerous stalker fixated on Gemma.

“The housekeeper dropped off a delivery from the farmer's market,” Gemma calls over her shoulder as she heads to the kitchen.

Gemma goes straight for the fridge, rifling through the produce. “Fresh peaches, look! And oooh, heirloom tomatoes.”

Her delight is innocent, oblivious. She seems perfectly at ease, relaxed in the familiar safety of home.

Before stationing myself near the kitchen, I check whether the doors are locked and windows secured.

The popping of the cork punctuates her playful humming as she reaches again for the fridge.

“Don't be such a stoic. I'm having wine. You should join me.”

A loud smack is followed by a sharp gasp, shattering the calm. On the floor lies the broken remains of a pasta container, its contents strewn across gleaming hardwood.

In two long strides, I'm at Gemma's side.

She turns, face bloodless, holding a slip of paper. I take it from her trembling fingers, fists clenching as I read the chilling words constructed from letters cut out of magazines.

You look so beautiful in that wedding dress, my darling Gemma. I can't wait to see you walking down the aisle toward me. We will be so happy together.

She searches my face with frightened eyes.

“Where did you get this?” I demand.

“It was in the fruit delivery that got unpacked today,” Gemma says shakily. “The housekeeper must have put it in the fridge.”

Gripping her shoulders, I make her look at me. “I'm right here. Nobody is coming near you.”

I keep my voice steady, showing complete confidence despite churning inside.

She nods, blinking back tears. I pull her into a brief, fierce hug before stepping away to case the residence systematically.

I check doors, windows, and surveillance feeds. Finding no apparent signs of a break-in does not calm me. No one gets in or out without me knowing, so how did this happen? My security measures are ironclad. There was no way an outsider breached the place undetected.

I think back on the case details viewed through this new lens. A picture starts forming that I don't like one bit. The stalker hasn't only bypassed physical security measures today. He also knew intimate details–like Gemma's dress shopping trip. An outsider wouldn't have access to her schedule. The awful truth dawns, sinking like a stone in my gut.

This implicates someone closer to home.

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