by Diana Gardin
“Pretty damn sure.”
“We need to be completely sure. Call your friends and make sure Greta stays at that party. Meet me at Kyle’s apartment.”
When we hang up, he texts me the address, and I head for Kyle’s apartment.
“Ronin.” I bark into the phone when Ronin answers his phone.
He listens as I ask him to keep Greta in his sight.
“You sound off. What’s up?”
In my haste, I don’t explain the situation. “Just do this for me. I’ll fill you in when I know what’s going on.”
“You got it.” In the background, a loud cheer goes up from the party. I disconnect the call.
Kyle’s place is located just outside of Wilmington, in one of the beach communities between the larger city and Lone Sands. When I pull up to the duplex, it’s dark.
I don’t bother to sneak, knowing Kyle is still at the party. I reach both hands into my pockets, patting, searching.
“Dammit!”
Realizing my lock pick is in the glove compartment of the Jeep, I hustle to get it and arrive back at Kyle’s doorstep. Kneeling, I stick the small metal pick into the lock and snake it around inside, searching for the small groove. When I hit pay dirt, the lock turns easily in my hands. I turn the knob and let myself into the darkened house.
I enter into a dark, narrow hall. Flipping the lights, I follow a tiled floor past a living room, a dining and kitchen combo, and a bathroom. When I arrive at a bedroom, I flick the light, and all of the air escapes my lungs on a strangled cry.
I freeze, horror descending on me like a swarm of locusts invading an unsuspecting town. The words I want to shout are stuck in my throat, and I can’t speak.
Greta’s face is plastered all over the wall behind Kyle’s bed. Her face, animated in some, still in others. He’s caught her from a distance, and from closer up. Greta on a surfboard, riding a wave. Greta, smiling and laughing with Berkeley and Mea in a girly boutique. Greta, getting out of her car. Greta sitting in her car. Greta, walking up the sidewalk to her apartment.
It’s just Greta, over and over and over again.
In his bedroom.
“Abbot!” Jacob calls my name from the front of the duplex.
“In here.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. The dull ache of fear combined with the laser-hot streak of anger make it scratchy and raw.
On his dresser, there’s dozens of surfboard figurines, much like the one he anonymously sent her. An array of women’s jewelry in assorted boxes on his nightstand.
“Sick son of a bitch!” My voice is hoarse. My stomach is rolling, tumbling over and over again until I have to run to the bathroom to empty its contents. When I finish, I stand up and wipe my mouth. On shaky legs, I return to the bedroom. Jacob is on the phone with the detective he’s friendly with in the WPD, the same one who is assigned to Greta’s stalking case.
“Get here, now,” Jacob says loudly. “We’ve got him.”
I have no doubt that when they begin combing through Kyle’s things, they’ll find more receipts for the flowers and gifts he bought her. He’s definitely going to go down for this.
As long as I don’t get my hands on him first.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. When I see Ronin Shaw’s name on the screen, I pick up immediately.
“Dude. I’m not sure why you didn’t want Greta to leave, but she said she wasn’t feeling well.”
Panic rises inside of me, threatening to boil over and consume me completely. Never, in all the times I’ve been sent on a dangerous mission, have I felt fear like this.
“She’s gone? Dammit, Shaw! I told you to keep her there! Kyle is her stalker.”
I hear the sharp intake of breath on the other end. “You sure?”
“Yes, dammit!” I look at Jacob, who has finished his call and is watching me intently.
“Fucking shit. Kyle took her. They left ten minutes ago.”
With an ever-tightening fist of terror in my stomach, I relay the information to Jacob.
“Go,” he orders. “I have to stay and wait for the detectives. Go now!”
I don’t need to be told twice. I break into a run and don’t stop until I reach the Jeep.
28
Greta
My head is pounding, and I blame the headache for making me hear the sentence that just came out of Kyle’s mouth incorrectly.
“Kyle…what did you just say?”
We’re sitting in front of my apartment, in Kyle’s car. I turn to face him, my mouth hanging wide open in utter disbelief.
Kyle blinks rapidly, looking everywhere but directly at me. When his gaze finally settles on mine, his face is almost pained. “I said I love you, Greta. I always have. Since high school. I just think that now is the perfect time for me to say it. This can be our time.”
His tone is soft, and there’s an expectant expression of pleasure on his face. Whatever he’s expecting me to say, however he’s expecting me to react to his proclamation, it’s drastically different from the reality.
“Oh, Kyle,” I say softly. “That is so sweet. I had no idea…that you felt this way.”
He nods eagerly, reaching across the console to take my hand. “It never seemed like the right time, you know? I mean, I was kind of shy in high school. And then we were at different colleges. But then you started working at Night Eagle with me. And I thought…” His voice trails off, and a dark expression crosses his face. “And then you started dating Abbot.”
I nod sympathetically, my mind spinning in a million different directions. It’s not every day that someone professes their love for you. Looking into Kyle’s eyes, I only wish I could feel the same way.
But I don’t.
I squeeze his hand gently. “Listen, Kyle. I’m flattered, I really am. I wish I was the right girl for you. You’re a great guy. But…things are super complicated right now. I’m still tangled up in my feelings for Grisham.”
Kyle’s expression is blank. “But you broke up with him.”
I nod. “Yes, but that was only a week ago. And I love him, Kyle. That doesn’t just go away overnight. Maybe in a year or two…”
I watch as Kyle’s eyes shutter. His expression is completely bland. I can’t read anything from it. “Yeah, okay. You’re letting me down easy, but you’re basically saying it’s never going to happen.”
All I can do is look down at my lap. “I’m so sorry, Kyle.”
Kyle says nothing; he just stares out the windshield.
I wish I could read his expression. I wish he’d say something.
After a few tense moments of silence, I grab my bag and unlock my car door. “After you think about this, Kyle, you’ll see that I’m right. We’re not right for each other. I’ll see you at work on Monday, okay?”
He doesn’t answer, just continues staring out his front window.
I sigh as I exit the car.
Wow, Greta. You’re bowling a strike tonight. No pins left standing.
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck begin to strain outward as I walk up the sidewalk. They’re literally standing on end. It’s a sensation I can honestly say I’ve only felt once before. And I don’t like it. I’m almost at the stairs when I turn back to face the parking lot.
Kyle is still sitting there in his car. His eyes are burning into me. A shiver slithers up my spine. Quickly turning back around, I force myself to take the stairs one at a time until I reach the second floor, and then I unlock my apartment door with trembling hands.
Mea isn’t home yet. She’s either still at Drake’s, or she’s found a hot date for the night. Sometimes, she stays at her cousin’s in Wilmington. Either way, my stomach tightens at the prospect of spending the entire night alone. As soon as I place my purse on the bar top, there’s a knock on the door.
With a sigh, I walk back toward the door. I reach for the knob, and then hesitate. “Who is it?”
“It’s Kyle. Greta…I just didn’t want to leave things that way. Let me apologize.”
“Oh
, Kyle, you don’t have to—”
I pull the door open, and my sentence is cut off as Kyle violently shoves his way into the apartment. He slams the door behind him with his foot, and the anger on his face transforms him from the sweet guy I know into a stranger wearing a mask of rage. I stumble backward so fast my feet begin to twist. A barstool catches me before I fall. It tumbles to the ground.
“Seriously, Greta.”
Kyle stands before me, his hands fisted, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. “How can you be such a fucking idiot? Everything you could ever need is standing right in front of you.”
I blink. My mind hasn’t caught up to the action in the room. Did Kyle really just force his way into my apartment? And now he’s yelling at me? What the hell?
“Kyle! What are you doing?”
He ignores my question. Spittle is forming in the corners of his mouth as he speaks quickly. His brown eyes light up with fury. “When’s the last time Abbot sent you flowers? And your favorite…roses?”
“How do you know that my favorite…” My voice trails off as I stare at Kyle. Something clicks in my brain, and suddenly, my limbs are paralyzed with fear.
“He’s all you can think about. What is it, the sex? I never had you pegged for a fucking cunt, but I guess I could have been wrong. Maybe that’s what you need from me.”
It was Kyle.
He sent the flowers, the box at the door. He keyed my car…
He’s my stalker.
When I realize the truth, it sends a reaction through my body that I don’t expect. Instead of becoming more frozen in fear, my limbs immediately loosen. My head clears, because I’m in a bit of a situation here. I’ve thought a million times about what I would do if I came face-to-face with my stalker, but I never, ever, thought it could be someone I know. Someone I like.
“You’re not going to hurt me, Kyle.” I sound calmer than I feel. I concentrate on taking slow, deep breaths as I edge sideways toward the end of the bar. All I can think about is making it down the hallway and to my bedroom before he can get to me.
His lips twist into an ugly sneer. It’s an expression I’ve never seen on him before, and I pause to stare at his face.
“No, it’s not going to hurt, Greta. You’re going to like it.”
I don’t have time to react as he lunges for me. I turn, attempting to run, but he’s on me before I can take a single step. I only succeed in knocking my bag and everything else off the top of the bar. He grabs me from behind, squeezing me painfully tight. I immediately begin to struggle. As his grip continues to tighten, Grisham’s voice comes to me from somewhere deep in my mind. “Struggling to free your arms first will just expend your energy, giving him the advantage.”
I stop struggling. Remembering everything Grisham taught me in the training room, I take a step to the side. It’s small, but it’s enough. Then I squat down suddenly. Kyle stumbles forward a bit, his arms loosening their hold on me considerably. Then, closing my eyes, I jerk backward with my head. The back of my head slams into his chin, and as I stumble forward with stars in my vision, Kyle’s arms release me completely as he lets loose a string of curses.
I’m free. I’m free. I’m free.
I twist to the side, throwing my elbow up high. I connect with hard tissue; his stomach. He grunts, taking a few stumbling steps backward.
It only takes me a split second to realize that I have an opportunity. I turn and begin to run. I can hear Kyle; I can feel him as he comes after me.
Make it to the gun. Make it to the gun.
But I don’t make it. Kyle tackles me from behind. I sprawl out on the floor, the wind leaving me as I hit the ground. Flipping me over so that I’m trapped beneath him, Kyle looms above me. Panic saturates every part of me, keeping me still and lifeless on the floor. My body is beginning to ache in the places where I’ve hit the floor, but I ignore the pain.
Kyle’s lips curl in a cruel grin. I can’t see any light in his eyes; he’s gone completely dark. The friend I’ve known for years is gone, replaced by the stalker I never wanted.
“You like it rough.” He says it like it’s an observation, a fact.
Then he hits me, his open palm striking the side of my face with a resounding slap. The sharp stinging is enough to bring tears to my eyes, and my vision swims for a moment before my eyes widen in shock. I have no time to react before Kyle grips both sides of my shirt and gives it a violent jerk, scattering buttons all over the hall.
Shaking my head feverishly, I try to reason with him. “No, Kyle, stop. I don’t want this.”
Somewhere in the distance, probably still in my purse, I hear my phone ringing. The ringtone is the one I set for Grisham, “Halo” by Beyoncé. I try and focus on Kyle while simultaneously wishing with all my heart that Grisham would choose now to be extra persistent. Maybe when I don’t pick up my phone, he’ll come to my apartment. Hope blossoms in my chest, a beautiful flower I firmly grasp in my desperation.
“That’s Grisham,” I warn Kyle. “He’ll show up”
Kyle sneers. “Then I guess we better make this fast. He’ll make a quick exit if he finds us together.”
My stomach lurches. “Don’t, Kyle.”
He just shakes his head at me. “Stop acting like you don’t want it, Greta. The hard-to-get game is over.”
Desperate, I draw my knees up beneath me. “Then let me be on top. That’s the way I like it.”
He freezes, clearly not expecting me to say such a thing. “You’re fucking with me.”
Yes, asshole, I’m definitely fucking with you. Fall for it. You sick bastard.
“No. You were right, Kyle. I do want you. So let me have you…just the way I like it.”
I can see the shocked indecision in his eyes, and in the second that he hesitates, I use my knee to thrust upward as hard as I can. He howls as I connect with his testicles.
Kyle falls forward, but I scoot out from beneath him and half-crawl, half-lurch for my room. I slam the door behind me and lunge for my nightstand. I fumble, then pull the drawer open and pull out my loaded handgun. Its solid weight settles in my hands as I hold it steady and aim for my bedroom door.
It takes a few beats, and he’s clearly moving slower than before, but I hear Kyle on the other side of the door.
Go away, Kyle. Go away, Kyle.
He opens the door. Surprise registers on his face as he sees my gun, but only for a second. Then he composes himself and his righteous anger is back in place, a permanent mask.
“Now I don’t even want you anymore, bitch. Now I just want to end you.”
I cry out. “Don’t, Kyle! I’ll use this, I swear to God I will.”
He laughs. “No, you won’t, Greta. You’re not brave enough. That’s probably not even loaded.”
He comes for me, and I squeeze the trigger.
Twice.
29
Grisham
The ride to Greta’s apartment is torturous. I don’t stop for a single red light, and I drive like a madman as I swerve around any vehicle stupid enough to be in my way. When I finally pull up, I practically leap from the Jeep. Stumbling slightly before I catch myself, I spring for the apartment. Jacob texted me on my harried drive that the police were on their way to Greta’s as well. I don’t waste time, thrusting her front door open, glad it’s been left unlocked.
Until I discover the state of her apartment.
A barstool is lying on its side. Her purse and the rest of the contents of her bar top lay strewn on the floor. I’ve only just had time to take in the state of the room before I hear her scream. My head jerks to the back of the apartment in the direction of her bedroom. I’ve only taken half a step in that direction before the first gunshot rents the air.
Then the second.
In a blur, I’m down the hallway. My heart slamming against the walls of my chest, my lips moving in a silent prayer. I haul ass until I get to the doorway of Greta’s room. She’s standing there, eyes wide open, gun held in her hand
s. She stares at the unmoving form of Kyle on her bedroom floor.
Oh, my God.
I can’t stop the relief that flows through me at seeing her standing there, safe, but the state of her indicates that she’s been in a fight. She’s disheveled, and her hair hangs loosely from its previously neat ponytail. There’s also a prominent bruise beginning to form on her left cheekbone.
“Greta, baby.” I step over Kyle and walk toward her slowly. “You did good. Give me the gun now, okay?”
Her eyes lift from Kyle’s limp body and focus on me for the first time. I can see sheer terror there, and it breaks me in half.
Kyle is so damn lucky Greta already shot him.
Her arms shake as she swallows. “Grisham?”
“It’s me, angel. You’re safe.”
That’s when her face crumples and she lowers her arms. I grab the gun and gently take it from her hands. Placing it beside us on the nightstand, I pull her into my arms.
She begins to sob, deep, heaving cries that shake me to the very core. Every single one of them drives me further and further out of my mind, but I struggle to keep it together. For her.
“I got you, Grits. I got you.” I hold her, feeling like I need to do it. Like having her in my arms is necessary for me to continue functioning.
“Don’t let go, Grisham. Please.”
I just grip her tighter, clutch her closer.
“Is he…is he…?”
I know what she’s trying to ask, and I gently pick her up in my arms. There are sirens outside the apartment now, and I know that any minute this place will be crawling with uniforms. I carry her to the living room, sit her gently on the couch, and kneel in front of her.
“You stay here. I’m going to go check.”
She nods, her expression miserable as she stares down the dim hallway.
I move quickly down the hall to her bedroom. Kyle is still lying on the floor. I kneel down beside his form.
One half of me wants him to be dead.
You deserve it, you bastard.
The way he hurt Greta will stay with me forever, a grudge I’ll never be able to forgive. But the other half of me knows that if he’s dead, his ghost will haunt Greta forever. She’s not a killer; she’ll grieve him whether he deserves it or not. And she’ll carry the guilt on her shoulders until it finally drags her down.