Page 137 of Fame and Obsession

After my self-assured, pat on the back speech, Julian breaks the silence and bursts my bubble. “How can we even be sure she’ll take the bait? What if all of this is for nothing, and we just get a bunch of groupies posting a lot of stupid shit we have to sit through?”

“It’s a possibility.” I narrow my eyes at him. Putting doubts in Detective Jaxon Hough’s head wasn’t on the agenda. “But she’s using a screen name that’s a variation of her letter signatures, Julian. She wants you to know it’s her. She wants you to see her. Unless you have a better idea, I don’t know anything else to do to flush her out except put on a white dress and place myself on an altar.” Tilting my head, I lean back in the chair.

Was planting that image in his head a dirty trick? Of course. But sometimes you have to hurt the ones you love in order to hurt the ones you hate.

And that was a well-aimed dart to the darkest corner of his mind.

“Fine,” he growls, but as he paces again, that vein in his temple starts to pulse. “But once we get it, and the log is emailed, this is done. And you’re done—are we clear?”

“I’m doing this for you, Julian,” I say tightly.

He pauses mid-pace. “So am I.”

“If you two are done, I have a few miles of red tape to slice through so this little stunt of yours doesn’t end up costing us a conviction—and me my job.” Hough’s tired voice booms through the speaker phone. “I’ll be waiting by the computer. Bale, send me a text right before the email is about to come through, all right?”

Julian’s stare is still boring a hole through me. “Sure, no problem.” Without another word, he disconnects the call and throws the phone on my bed, and stalks toward me. Once he reaches my desk, he places a hand on either armrest and leans in until our noses almost touch.

As usual, having him this close kickstarts my heart. When he speaks, his voice rumbles with the ferocity of a possessive man.

“This will be the last thing you do concerning this situation, am I understood?”

“Julian—”

“When this is done, you will dismantle that website and shut that fucking computer off. You will never breathe in this bitch’s direction again, or so help me, Phoebe, I will handcuff your ass to the headboard. Is that clear enough for you?”

God, he’s hot when he’s domineering.

“Yes.” It’s all I can manage.

“See how much smoother we work when you’re agreeable?” Leaning closer, he drags his lips up the length of my neck.

“I hate you, Julian.” I groan as he flattens his tongue along my collarbone.

“I know, but there’s such a fine line between love and hate. Just like there’s a fine line between here”—he hooks a finger underneath the strap of my tank top—“and here.” Slowly, he pulls it down my arm.

Throwing my head back, I curse as his mouth trails behind his finger. He barely gets the strap past my elbow when a sharp ping from my laptop signals the blog has become active.

“Shit!” I push him off me, slipping my strap back in place as I swivel the chair around to face the screen. Julian leans over me, his fingers skating a heated line across the back of my neck.

As the typing begins, I inhale a sharp breath, and the hair on both arms stand on end.

“It’s her,” I announce, never taking my eyes off the screen as the typing continues.

AngelMia: Finally, a place for Julian’s true fans.

“It’s not her screen name,” Julian notes behind me. “How do you know it’s her?”

“It’s a variation. It may not be AngElmie, but it’s the same concept. Faith said stalkers are a lot like hackers. They’re loyal to one online name. They couldn’t care less about real names. They toss those away without issue. She said if you want to find a stalker, you need to pay attention to their online name. That’s the one they have a hard time changing.”

“You scare me,” he says, with a strained laugh.

I shake my head. “Not me—Faith.”

AngelMia: Anyone hear about Julian’s old girlfriend, Vivian? Shame really.

Watching the screen, I rub my palms up and down my thighs. “Here we go.”

Hang yourself, bitch.

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