by Ava May
But Ainsley didn’t say goodbye. His eyes were on her door, and he gently moved her out of the way as he stepped in front of her. That’s when Claire saw it.
The lock on her door was busted.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, her heart speeding up to match the erratic pace it’d hit last night in the alley. “Ainsley—”
“Let’s go back downstairs,” Ainsley said quietly. “And go back to the car.”
As soon as they were back outside and safely locked within Chad’s BMW, Ainsley pulled out his phone and dialed nine-one-one. “Yes,” he said calmly to the other line. “I’m at the corner of Bradley and Kent, at two-sixty-seven apartments. I’d like to report a robbery.”
It wasn’t long before they saw the flashing red and blue lights behind them. Two officers exited their patrol car, and Ainsley left the BMW with Claire to take them upstairs. They stood aside as the police nudged the apartment door open, their weapons out and flashlights on, ready for anything. Claire couldn’t hear anything besides her blood rushing in her ears, but a small voice in her head kept whispering, “Calm down, girl. I don’t want to kill you unnecessarily.”
It only took a minute for the officers to sweep her studio apartment. Soon they were back at the door, opening it wide and flicking on her main light. “Whoever it was, they’re gone now. But ma’am, if you notice anything missing,” one said, handing her a business card. “Please, don’t hesitate to call me.”
“T-thanks,” Claire nodded, still a little shaken up. As they left, she turned to Ainsley. “Well, this is goodnight,” she said, trying to smile. “Thank you for staying—”
“Oh, no, I don’t think so.”
Claire jerked her head up at the voice, her eyes connecting with Chad’s at the top of the stairwell.
“What are you doing here?” she frowned.
“Ainsley texted me,” he said, glancing around as he approached them. “You really live here?” he asked.
Claire could feel her face growing hot. “Chad Michaels, if you only came out here to insult me—”
“Of course not,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve come to take you home. Well, to my home.” He was already reaching for her hand.
“What? No, I’m fine here! The police already came, and—”
“And left you with an empty apartment and a broken lock, I know.” Taking her arm, Chad began pulling her back toward the stairs. “Besides, I’ve got amazing security back at the house, and with all of your bad luck , I’d say that you need it more than I.”
Claire couldn’t argue with that, but she couldn’t just leave without checking her apartment over either. “I need to see if anything’s missing,” she said, yanking her arm back. “Give me a moment.”
“Oh, so you are coming then?” Chad smiled. Claire didn’t bother answering.
Her apartment, to her relief, wasn’t the torn up mess she would’ve expected after someone had taken the time to break her lock and get inside. Everything was just as she’d left it, though some of the papers at her makeshift desk were scattered on the floor. She stooped to pick them up, trying to remember what she’d printed and if any of them were missing.
“This is where you live?” Chad asked, peeking inside.
She could practically hear the, “It’s a bit small, isn’t it?” Shuffling her papers, she set them back onto her card table and grabbed her backpack, turning to her small dresser.
“Do grab more than one outfit,” Chad advised, looking over her shoulder.
“I’m not staying with you for very long,” Claire shot him a look. “Just until my lock gets fixed.”
“Oh, good idea—Ainsley!” he called into the hall. “Can you ring a local locksmith? Tell him that we’ll pay double for a speedy job.”
“You’re the one who invited me,” Claire muttered.
“Oh yes, of course,” Chad agreed. “I just don’t want anyone getting any ideas when they see your broken lock. Don’t want your neighbors suddenly making off with your belongings.”
He had a point, not that Claire would ever admit it.
She gently took two work suits from inside of her closet and rolled them up, placing them carefully at the bottom of the bag. Then, on second thought, she shoved a few jeans and t-shirts inside as well. As she went to her bathroom to grab her toiletries, Chad stopped her. “Please don’t think that we don’t already have plenty at the house,” he said, steering her back to the hallway.
“Sir,” Ainsley said, hanging up his phone. “A Jerry Samson will be here in the morning to repair her door.”
“Excellent,” Chad nodded. “Have a man here to meet him.”
“Of course,” Ainsley said, following them down the stairs.
As they got into the car and Chad urged her to sit in the back next to him, she put her bag on her knees and wondered when this had become her life.
Chapter 4
Claire was working late again. Smith had finally emailed her back, and had attached a picture of his work schedule that week. As she had suspected, he wasn’t working on the day the company claimed he’d attended a workshop. Plus, in his reply, Smith said that safety workshops weren’t a thing at the company, and that he’d certainly never been to one it they did exist.
Rubbing her eyes, Claire checked her watch. It was already midnight, and the realization left her blood cold. She quickly saved her work and stood up, shutting down the computer.
Chad hadn’t contacted her since that morning when they’d had breakfast together again. Ainsley had taken her to work, and Chad had texted her around noon that her lock had been fixed. It made her glad that she’d brought her bag of clothes with her—she could take the bus home and be done with accepting help from Chad Michaels.
As she stood, she slung the bag onto her shoulder and moved her purse over it. The bus would be arriving soon, and she knew that if she wanted to get home before one a.m. then she should start heading toward it.
She paused, half-bent to lock her desk drawer, when she heard a noise. It was a slight creaking noise, like a door opening. But she was the last one in the building.
Wasn’t she?
Claire flipped the keys in her hand so that they slid between her fingers as she formed a fist, dropping into a squat behind her desk so she could watch the office entrance. She could hear footsteps now, and see a shadow over the door. With another creak, she watched a hand open it.
“Claire?”
She let out the air she hadn’t known she’d been holding in. “Chad!” she yelled. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Chad stuck his head into the room, squinting in the darkness. “Claire, where are you?” he asked, ignoring her question. Claire huffed as she stood up, pocketing her keys as she flicked on the lights.
“Ah, there you are,” Chad smiled.
“Chad, it’s midnight. What’re you doing at the courthouse?” she asked again, rubbing her forehead.
“Oh, same as you, I’m sure,” he shrugged, glancing at the posters on the wall. “Finishing up the odd paperwork and answering a few emails. Ainsley said that you hadn’t called yet, so I thought I’d join him.”
“Join him?” she repeated. “Wait, you don’t mean—”
Chad flicked a thumb over his shoulder at the door. “He’s been waiting outside since six. I told him you liked to burn the midnight oil, but, well,” he said, laughing at his own words. “Of course I didn’t mean it literally.”
“I’m taking the bus home,” Claire announced, glaring at him.
“Yeah?” Chad asked, and Claire tried to ignore the way that her stomach curled at his carefree tone. The idea of sitting at the bus stop alone, in the dark, scared her. “You want to?”
Claire opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t find the words.
“Well,” Chad said, taking off his hat and leaning against one of the desks. “While you think on it, do you mind if I talk?”
Claire frowned, but sat back in her office chair. Chad took that as his green l
ight, and closed his eyes with a sigh.
“Claire,” he said, opening them again. “I wanted to apologize.” Claire had half a notion to scoff at his words, but his tone stopped her. She’d never heard him speak so seriously. “What happened in college,” he said, shaking his head. “It was wrong. I was a stupid boy pretending to be an adult, and I didn’t think about how much my pride would hurt you. I’d take it back if I could,” he said, talking faster. “I’d tell everyone, and wear a shirt that had our names on it in a heart.” Catching his breath, he said, “I wouldn’t be ashamed of someone who made me happy.”
“Well,” Claire said awkwardly after a moment. “That’s good of you—”
“I always regretted it,” he cut her off. “And then, when I saw you the other day; well, I thought I’d imagined it. Sure, there was some girl being kidnapped, but it couldn’t have been you. But then, I turned down that alley and helped the girl up, and it was you. It was your eyes, your smell. Suddenly, I’d found you all over again.”
Claire frowned. “You could’ve found me before I was being mugged at knifepoint, you know,” she said irritably. “There’s Facebook—social media. And my number hasn’t changed.”
Chad just shook his head. “I was too ashamed. But, Claire,” he moved, suddenly sinking to his knees in front of where she sat. “We’re here now—you, and I, and I’ve never stopped thinking about you. Do you think that we could try again? To be us?” he asked, placing one of his hands over hers.
Claire blinked. This was her Chad. Behind the locked dorm room door, in the words of his cheesy notes, or the cuddles late at night under the sheets.
But her Chad had betrayed her, and she’d realized that he hadn’t really been her Chad at all.
“You know what?” she said, glancing at her watch. “You just made me miss my bus.”
Chad stared up at her, and a smile broke his sullen face. He stood up, dusting off his pants, and extended a hand to her. “Then I guess I owe you a ride,” he winked.
Claire rolled her eyes, but took his hand. “Something like that.”
Sure enough, Ainsley was waiting outside with the same BMW that he’d driven her around in the day before. She thought about it for a moment, and slid into the backseat after Chad. He lit up at her choice, happily leaning in towards her. She just rolled her eyes, promptly dropping her bag and purse in between them. Chad just laughed, and told Ainsley to take them home.
Chad led her to the same guest bedroom as before, and Claire had him locked out before he’d even finished talking. She heard him laugh as he walked away, and she couldn’t help but smile.
By the time she’d taken a lunch break at work the next day, she had a solid defense for Smith. They were due to meet for court the following week, and she was confident that it was going to be a quick win. She’d already explained her strategy to Smith, and he was ecstatic. She’d even asked him if he’d like to offer the company a deal—make a large demand, reveal their evidence—but he’d declined. He wanted his day in court.
Regardless, she still had a lot to prepare. She typed into the night, and it was as she was just finishing up her closing statement that she heard someone in the building.
“Hello, Chad,” she called, saving the document and printing it out. She always did edit better on real paper. Slipping it into her folder, she heard the door open behind her. “Here to pick me up?” she asked, turning around to send him a smirk.
Only, it wasn’t Chad standing there.
“Hello, Claire.”
His voice made her heart sink. It was him—the man from the alley.
“You are one tough woman to find you, know that?” He stepped into the room properly and closed the door behind himself. “I stalk your workplace, and the one night I grab you, someone else ruins it. So I go to your apartment—and you’re never there.” He was slinking toward her now, his steps slow but deliberate. “What’s a man to do, but try, try again?”
“What do you want?” she breathed, her voice shaky.
“Oh, Claire,” the man laughed, suddenly grabbing a chair and yanking it underneath himself so he that was sitting just inches from her. “I only want what I asked you for that night: your purse.”
Claire frowned. “You’re telling me that you’re doing all this for a wallet?”
“Well, that is what I’d want you to think.” Shrugging, he added, “It’s what they want you to think, anyhow.”
“T-they?” Claire stuttered.
“Oh, my clients,” the man said, pulling out a knife. It glinted in the artificial light, and Claire gulped. “They wanted to know what you’ve gathered on the Smith case. It could cost them millions, you know.”
Claire’s eye widened. “This is about the Smith case?”
“Oh darn,” the man sing-songed to himself. “She knows. Guess I can’t leave her, then.”
Claire scowled at him, her hands fists in her lap. “What—” But suddenly the knife was in front of her face, and she scrambled backwards.
“Uh-uh,” the man said. “Can’t let you leave, sweetheart. Can’t let you tell.”
Claire jumped as he dived, slashing the air with his knife. She pushed herself under a desk and clawed to the other side. The man laughed behind her, and it made her sick. As he shook a desk and called for her, she realized.
He was playing with her.
“Claire!” he yelled. “Come out!”
But Claire wasn’t listening. She was trying to grab her purse from where she’d set it on the ground earlier today, her goal clear—she had to get to her phone.
But the man saw her reach for it.
“I don’t think so!” he yelled, and she yanked her arm back just as he stabbed the carpet where her hand had been. “You want this?” he hissed, grabbing her bag. He shook it, and threw it across the room, the contents of it flying out. “You don’t get it! It’s mine!” Claire moved while he was laughing, her eyes on the little metal thing that had fallen out by Aaron’s desk. She grabbed it before the man noticed, and held it by her side.
She texted the number Chad had left her on that cream colored paper. Help, she wrote. Mugger trying to kill me. She debated writing something about the Smith case, but she didn’t think she had the time. She hit send and stuck the phone into her pocket.
“Cla-aire!” the man called again. “Claire!”
Bang!
Claire jumped at the sudden noise, and for a moment she thought that the man had smashed a desk. But then an angry voice sneered, “You!”
She opened her eyes, and whirled around. “Chad?” she gasped.
He was there, hitting the man with an umbrella while Ainsley held a gun on him. “Miss Claire,” he said, obviously relieved. “Thank goodness.”
“You piece of shit!” Chad roared, stomping the man until he crumpled, his hands held out in surrender while the knife lay forgotten on the floor.
“Chad!” Claire yelled. Chad looked up, an angry mess of messy blonde hair and fierce blue eyes.
“Claire,” he breathed, a smile blossoming on his face. “God,” he said, leaving the man as he jogged between the desks to her. His eyes searched hers, and whatever he found there made him laugh. “So, still think this isn’t attempted murder?”
“Shut up!” she yelled, throwing her arms around his neck to cry into his shoulder. “You suck at rescuing people!”
“But I did rescue you!” he laughed, hugging her back. A siren in the background made her look up as blue and red lights flashed through the windows.
“Worry not,” Ainsley said, gun still pointed at the man. “We called the police.”
“Oh,” Claire said, feeling breathless. “Oh, good.”
Chapter 5
She went back with Chad that night. After all the police statements and the shock blankets and the phone calls to her boss, the only thing she wanted was that big poster bed in the guest room.
Chad didn’t even ask, he just helped her into the car and took her there. Ainsley drove in silence, gla
ncing back at them every once in a while through the rearview mirror. Claire didn’t care, and—as Chad silently welcomed her into his arms—she got the feeling that he didn’t, either.
The house was quiet when they arrived, and though Claire realized that it was really no more so than normal, it still made her nervous. She didn’t want to be alone, and the warm arm around her shoulders was only too tempting.
She didn’t expect him to take her to the guest room, no advances made.
“Goodnight,” Chad said, closing the door himself for once. She stared after him, her arms around her stomach, and a small voice slithered through her mind. “Just like in college,” it hissed. “He says he wants you, but then he leaves you.”
“But,” Claire said aloud, her voice making her flinch in the silence. But Chad hadn’t left her, not like last time. She was the one who had always demanded space, and he was simply finally giving it to her. But she didn’t want it, not tonight.
She changed into her nightgown, and let her hair down from the usual bun. She ran her fingers through the brown curls, smoothing out the little knots that had formed during the day, and sighed. It was now or never.
The click of the door’s lock sounded like glass breaking in the darkness, and Claire closed her eyes from it. She strained her hearing, trying to judge if Chad had heard it and was getting up. But, as she stood there, crouched by the connecting door, she heard nothing. Holding her breath, she turned the knob, and opened the door.
Chad wasn’t standing in the doorway like she’d imagined he’d be. She breathed a sigh of relief and stood, trying to make out his room in the darkness. Taking small steps, she used her outstretched hands to avoid furniture that might otherwise trip her.
As she skirted around an end table, she bumped into something huge and flat with her back. Using her hands to feel it, she realized that it curved, and that just past the end it had a blanket sticking out. She’d found the end of his bed.
Bingo.
Keeping a hand on the edge of it, she followed the side up to the wall that it was pushed against. She could hear Chad breathing now, but it wasn’t the slow, deep rhythm of a sleeping person. He was awake.