“What?” I stammer. “Not even two minutes ago, you were thanking me for my services, and now you’re telling me I can’t be here?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“This doesn’t make any sense.”
She drags the back of her palm over here forehead that’s now sweating. “I just changed my mind. There’s nothing to be concerned about, and I need you to leave.”
I point out through the open curtains, point squarely at the cars lined up on the curb of the street. “Does this have anything to do with that man who was out there taking photos?”
“What?” she questions with exasperation digging against the back of her throat. “What man?”
My teeth bite against my lower lip as I shake my head, trying to figure out just what in the hell is going on, but I’m coming up with nothing. “Something is going on, and I can’t help you unless you tell me what.”
“That’s the point.” She swallows and wets her lips, forcing the fakest smile I think I’ve ever seen. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, that there’s nothing going on and that I don’t need your services anymore.”
I’m firm in my resolve though. “And I’m telling you that I think you’re full of shit.”
“Fine,” she huffs and darts past me to palm her hand around the doorknob. “I’m full of shit, but you’re fired.”
“Fired?” I question with a slight chuckle. “You can’t fire me.”
“I just did,” she seethes through gritted teeth, and that’s just about when I begin to realize she’s being serious. “So you need to get out of my house before I have to call the police or something.”
“You can’t fire me.” I shake my head, still in a state of shock, my head in a complete tailspin. “You technically haven’t even hired me, considering we haven’t even talked about payment for services—”
She rips the door open and gestures for me to exit. “And we’re not going to talk about it because like I said, this is over.”
“No….” I scrunch my brows and stammer out lowly, “It’s not over.”
“It is,” she yells, reaching forward to grab my arm. She drags me towards the front door and then pushes me, but she’s not strong enough to force me outside. “What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” I spin to face her fully, bracing one hand against the frame of the door. “There is nothing wrong with me, but you’re either a sociopath or there’s something you’re not telling me.”
She shrugs with apathy weighing heavy on her shoulders, exhales softly. “The only thing wrong with me was that I was stupid enough to bring you here for nothing.”
“You’re really doing this, aren’t you?” I nod, trying to take it all in, but it’s a hard, bitter pill to swallow. “You’re going to push me away faster than you invited me in and you’re not going to tell me why.”
She pushes me gently with one hand against my chest, but it’s enough that I stumble backwards just enough so that she’s able to close the door on my face. I hear the lock latch into place immediately after, and while I stand there still stunned, I glance over at the oversized living room windows to see her rip the curtains closed.
Nothing about this makes sense. Nothing except for the fact that something has obviously scared her, and I’m going to figure out what. If my hunch is right, that somehow the messages I’ve been receiving are related to the letters she’s been receiving, then I’m just involved in this as she is.
CHAPTER FIVE
ELLA
After pulling the curtains to a close, I take a measured step back from the window and then take another step until my knees bend against the edge of a chair. I stumble backwards and drop down into the chair, staring blankly ahead at the windows.
Any chance I had at pretending these letters were nothing ominous have now gone out the window. My phone vibrates from my back pocket, so I adjust myself in the chair so that I’m able to access my phone. It’s an email from a design client, but work is the last thing on my mind right now.
I brush my free hand through my long hair before digging back into my text messages to look at the message I had received as soon as Luke stepped out my door the first time. It reads:
213-555-7373: The timeline has been breached and by involving outside resources, you have only served to escalate the situation. Be on high alert that any further involvement will result in bloodshed, and not yours…
It was a clear threat, and though I can’t source the validity of the claims, I have a hunch that whoever this sicko is, that they’re not playing games. Something tells me that I should trust Luke, something tells me that I’m going to need him to help me get to the bottom of this, but I simply can’t risk it without knowing more. There aren’t a lot of people in this world I’m close to, not anymore. Hell, off the top of my head, there’s only one person that comes to mind… Kara Jean.
If Luke is right, if this is someone who knows me, then most likely they’d know that Kara is my closest friend in this world. Losing her is something I’m not willing to risk, not unless I can’t help it.
Not able to sit still—my entire body is lost in a state of jitters while my head is lost somewhere in a daze, floating around on weightless clouds of overthinking—I rise to my feet and rush into the kitchen to pour a tall glass of wine.
As soon as the rim hits my lips, I down the entire glass in one go. Quickly, I realize that I need something a little bit stronger. Luke’s line of questioning, while not as intense as I was beginning to suspect, opened up some old wounds. I never really got over the sudden loss of my parents all those years ago. They were taken away from me in a tragic car accident on their way home from a fundraiser for Grimm Industries charity.
I reach into the top cabinet and grab an old and unopened bottle of whiskey. It takes a little grunting to twist the top off before I pour myself an overfilled glass. If I’m going to make it through tonight—not even thinking about tomorrow and the day after that—I’m going to need a strong drink.
I’ve come to the conclusion that if I’m unable to have Luke protect me, then I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands. I’m going to have to protect myself, and though I’ve never personally shot a gun, I’m going to teach myself really fast.
The only problem is that I don’t have a gun. Fortunately, I know exactly the place to find one, but it involves going back to high school—figuratively speaking. It requires seeking assistance from one of the many people I left behind and swore I’d never see again.
CHAPTER SIX
LUKE
I shake my head in disbelief again. Did that really just happen? I mean, of course I know it did. I was standing right there. It’s like a switch was flipped in her head and she decided there was no other option other than for me to leave.
I’m confused. I’m angry. I’m terrified she’s going to end up dead and I’m going to live with the regret that there was more I could do to save her, if only she’d let me. My phone vibrates in my pocket and it’s the last damn thing I need right now.
I reach down to retrieve my phone and there’s a text message:
213-555-7373: So close, yet so far, though you were warned about trying to be the white knight. Pack up your armor and go home before you end up caught up in a perilous game.
I squeeze the phone so hard in my hand that I fear I’m going to crush it. Whoever is fucking with me is going to pay when I find out who it is, but the fact that they can rhyme is cute, I guess. The pieces of evidence are piling up that Ella’s stalker—or whatever the case may be—has something to do with the messages I’m receiving, but as far as I can tell, we have nothing that connects us together.
Still standing outside Ella’s door, I briefly consider knocking to get her attention once more, but there’s already too much on my plate. She’s basically done me a favor because now I can focus my attention where it belongs, on figuring out who my secret admirer is. She obviously has issues, but if she’s not going to le
t me help, then there’s nothing more I can do right now. I can’t force my way into her life or through her front door, not without picking up some charges of my own.
I pack up my pride and make a quick exit off her porch and out of her neighborhood.
# # #
I forced myself to be content with leaving Ella behind, but on the long car ride back over to the hideout, overthinking got the best of me. I tried to decipher what’s going on from every angle, but as a man on the outside of whatever it is that she’s going through, nothing seemed to make sense.
She has to know more than she’s letting on, I mean, that much is obvious. You don’t go from willingly hiring a security expert to firing them just as quickly. There’s more to the story, and even though it’s technically none of my business anymore, I’m determined to get to the bottom of it, if only because I’d never be able to live with the regret if something should happen to her.
I pull into the gravel lot and park beside Marcus’s car. As soon as I kill the engine, my feet hit the gravel and I slam the door shut behind me. I make quick work getting inside the building, going into the office on the right and then heading into the secret elevator situated at the back of the room.
The retina scanner scans my eyes, and then the gears begin turning as I’m lowered down into the secret hideout of the basement. When the elevator doors sling open, the first thing I see are the twins sparring with each other on the training mats. It’s been a good two months since I’ve seen either of them and I’m curious as to where they’ve been.
They’re both shirtless and sweaty, too preoccupied with throwing punches at each other to notice that I’m approaching. I drop down onto my ass and cross my legs waiting for them to notice me with a sly grin on my face. When they do finally notice me, both in unison, they turn to me with the same shit-eating grin.
“Nice to see you boys are back,” I say. “Now, care to tell me where the hell you’ve been?”
“It’s actually top secret,” Zane says, as he begins to approach, his brother Zach staying put in the back. They both are equally tan with the same emerald eyes and buzzed-cut hair. The only way I’m able to tell them apart is by the tone of their voices and the fact that Zane has a scar from a knife wound just beneath his left breast. “But let’s just say that we’ve been soaking up sun in the Caribbean.”
“Yeah,” I cock my head. “That doesn’t sound like work.”
“You’re right, Luke,” Zach says, joining his brother at his side. “But let’s keep that on the downlow because Dom thinks we’ve been gathering intel, when in fact we just needed a break after the Seth Grimm disaster.”
“I thought that was taken care of.” I lift myself to my feet, using my hands as leverage against the hard floor. “I thought that after you two basically blew up that building downtown that things were over…you know, since Seth Grimm is dead.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Zane says.
“The problem being that Seth Grimm is dead,” Zach adds.
“And his people aren’t too pleased,” Zane says.
“In fact, they’re kind of pissed,” Zach says.
“And they’re out for blood,” Zane says.
“Out for our blood, so we needed to escape the heat,” Zach says.
“So, we escaped to the Caribbean for some relaxation,” Zane says.
“For some booze, weed, and chicks,” Zach says.
“I’m going to need both of you stop it right now,” I say, staring them both down one at a time.
“Stop what?” they both question in unison with the exact same pitch and exact same tone, perfectly demonstrating what I just told them to stop doing.
“That finishing each other’s sentence thing is cute in high school, but your grown-ass adults.” I clear my throat and cross my arms over each other. “Now tell me more about these Caribbean girls.”
Zane models his left hand by holding it up and waving it in my face. “Well, neither of us got married…so there’s that.”
“Right, because you’re both such eligible bachelors,” I scoff jokingly. “It’s good to see you guys back in the game.”
“Same, bro.” Zach offers me a fist bump, and then his brother does the same. “But just so we’re clear, the official story as far as Dom is concerned is that we were doing intel.”
“Right,” I chuckle and roll my eyes. “I’m sure he’s going to believe that.”
“Uh, guys,” Marcus yells from behind me, stealing my attention as I twist around to face him. When I first walked in, I hadn’t even seen him there at the monitors. “We have a problem.”
“What?” I race towards the monitors, the two brothers following closely behind me. The three of us circle the desk and take a look at the camera footage on the computer screens. I’m half expecting for this to have something to do with Dom again, but my gut feeling is that it’s something far worse.
I lean over Marcus’s shoulder, squinting to get a better view at a small box in the bottom half of the screen until he zooms in on the black and white footage. It’s a man on a motorbike with a black helmet. That’s suspicious enough as it is because nobody comes out to this abandoned factory unless they’re here for us or with us.
I point my finger against the screen, hovering just around the motorbike’s license plate. “Zoom in.”
“Why?” Marcus questions, all the while not hesitating to do as told.
A second later and the video zooms in once more so that I’m able to read the license plate that reads simply: CAT.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath before I’m racing off to the elevator, leaving the three men behind. Zane races towards me, but the elevator closes before he can reach me.
I’m impatient, as the elevator rises through the shaft. I need to get my hands on that man because it’s too much of a coincidence that the same bike that was at Ella’s is now outside my place of work. He must have somehow dipped behind me and followed me here. Now, I’m thinking that the man wasn’t there for Ella, but instead he was there for me. His license plate might read CAT, and in the grand scheme of things, something tells me that this man thinks he’s the cat. Well, he’s about to be the damn mouse.
As soon as the elevator lands at ground floor, I tear out of the shaft and race out of the office and out of the factory. Just as I do so, the motorbike spins out against the gravel, sending shards of rocks into the air.
I make the split-second decision to jump into my car and give chase. By the time the door is closed, I’m already peeling out backward and then throwing the car into gear. I don’t even care that gravel is being thrown all over the back of my new car.
He’s got a good head start, but I’m not about to let him get away. He’s been harassing me for the better part of two months now, and I’m going to figure out why, even if it means totaling my car in the process.
The gravel parking lot gives way to paved roads as I careen around a sharp corner. The man ahead weaves in and out of traffic, something I’m unable to do. I slam on my horn to warn the civilians to get out of my way, but they don’t abide. So, I wait for my opening and take it, crossing over into opposing traffic so I can pass an elderly couple in a minivan.
The motorbike takes a sharp right at the red light ahead, almost being taken out by a black SUV in the process. All the while, I’m stuck behind a line of three cars and there’s too much traffic in the other lane to pass. I look for an escape route and the only available option is a narrow alley to my right, formed between two, tall, brick buildings.
I whip the steering wheel to the right and jump up onto the sidewalk first and then race down the alley. The right-side mirror scrapes against the brick exterior and sparks before being ripped off by the friction against the rough surface. Just up ahead, I see the bike racing down the street at the opposite end of the alley.
My foot pushes the pedal to the metal and I pray silently under my breath that there’s no traffic at the end of this alley. Once I reach the end of the slim alle
y, I ramp off the curb and almost lose control as I fight with the wheel to make a hard, right turn to give the biker chase.
He cocks his head over his shoulder as I give chase and then pushes the limits of his engine even further. He races forward, weaving around a school bus. That’s when I hear the distinctive howling of a train in the near distance. My eyes search the road ahead and see a train about to steamroll through an intersection.
And the man on the bike? He’s got nerves of steel or a death wish. I guess we’ll see which one it is. He races even faster, trying to outrun the train across the tracks, but he’s never going to make it.
Just as the bike hops the tracks, the train blasts its horn. There’s about to be an explosion, but there’s nothing. Just the train blasting through the intersection. I come to a stop just in front of the train and try to get a peek through the space between cargo cars.
That’s when I see the man on his feet with his bike perched at his feet. He must have crashed when landing, but he’s standing tall, so that means the son-of-a-bitch is still alive. It’s like he’s taunting me from the other side, knowing I can’t get to him.
My eyes shift to the back of the train, but there’s no end in sight. I guess that’s one of the downsides to working in the industrial part of town. He got away this time, but next time he won’t be so lucky.
I watch him as he picks his bike up off the asphalt and hops back on.
# # #
I’m stewing with rage as I exit the elevator back into the hideout. The twins and both Marcus are standing there to greet me, wanting to know what happened and why I raced away as fast as I could.
“What was that about?” Zane questions, arms crossed over each other. “You darted out of here like a bat out of hell?”
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