by Emelia Blair
“Too soon,” I glare at him.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
I try to stand up but he blocks my way, and I scowl at him. “I was thinking that somebody’s going to kill Ian and I had better do something.”
“You could have called us.” Zayn isn’t relenting.
“Sure.” My voice is thin as paper. “I should have sat down, made myself a hot cup of tea, tried calling all of you, one by one, telling whomever answered their phone, ‘Hey. Somebody just sent me a weird-ass picture of Ian in his jogging attire with a red cross on it which smells like blood. Do you mind getting out of bed and coming all the way to my apartment area and see if he’s all right?’”
Zayn tightens his lips, and I take a shuddering breath, trying to channel my anger and shaking fear into something positive. “Look, I did what any of you would have done. The car meant to run him over on the sidewalk. I went with my gut. And now we’re both fine. Just let it go.”
“Fine.” His words are curt, and I wince at the quiet anger in that word. I don’t get a chance to say anything further because just then, Philip and Fergus burst into the room.
My brother and I share many similarities, having inherited our mother’s golden hair and blue eyes, but that’s is where it ends. Our personalities are like fire and water. I have more of a fiery temper that doesn’t take long to ignite while Philip’s temper is quiet, like an oncoming storm.
Right now, however, nothing about him is quiet. He looks like he is ready to rip something apart with his bare hands.
“Why?” he demands. “Why can’t you let me age like a normal person?”
“Hello to you, too, Philip.” I am feeling much better, dangling my legs from the bed where I am sitting.
“The doctor said you’ll be fine. But you can’t sleep for the next twelve hours,” Fergus’s rich Irish accent reaches my ears.
“Why is no one talking about how someone tried to run Ian over with a car?” I ask, annoyed. “He could have died.”
“Because I wasn’t the one who just crashed her car.” Ian enters the room and comes to stand next to me. “How’s the head?”
I point towards my forehead. “I have thread in it. I feel disfigured.”
“You’ll always be beautiful to me,” he murmurs and I can’t help but grin when Philip gags.
“Get a room,” he tells us, and I raise a brow.
“We’re in one. Why don’t you show your ass out?” I bare my teeth at him in a smile.
Zayn scowls where he is leaning against the wall. “I think we have more pressing matters than Ian slobbering over your sister, Philip.”
“There’ll be no slobbering.” My brother narrows his eyes at us.
“I can’t make any promises,” Ian replies, but I feel his hand grip mine.
I know they are trying to lighten the mood, but Zayn is right. It’s time to discuss this attempt on Ian’s life.
“I haven’t told Charlotte anything yet,” Philip sighs. “Her pregnancy isn’t going so well. She shouldn’t be taking any stress.”
“Yes, well. She knows something’s up. She texted me yesterday morning; wants to meet up.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to be around her. It might put her in danger.”
There is an agreement in the silence. Both Charlotte and Sarah had been through rough experiences of their own, and we don’t know who is targeting me. Dragging them into this isn’t the best idea.
“I called Henry and told him. He’s on his way here to meet you.”
I nod, and we all look over when Zayn speaks up.
“Trying to get rid of Ian was a bold move. So far, this person hasn’t graduated beyond gifts. I saw the picture. I doubt you’ll be getting any prints off of it beyond your own or Ian’s.” He straightens, his piercing eyes aiming at me. “This guy knows your patterns. He knows where you live, who you live with. And he’s getting rid of the competition. He must also be aware that you’re getting rid of all the ‘gifts’ he’s sending. It won’t be too long before he turns his anger on you for not responding the way he wants you to.”
I pale and entwine my fingers with Ian’s. “What do you expect me to do? It’s not like I’m going out of my way to paint myself as a target. I just go to work and back home. For all my meetings outside, Jacob sticks to my side like glue.”
A sharp knock on the door has me looking around. A tall, handsome man with dark hair and alert green eyes stands at the door in a pressed and polished navy-blue suit.
“Henry,” I smile in greeting.
However, he doesn’t look too happy. “Well, at least you’re still in one piece.”
“How sweet,” I say drolly.
Henry Chapman strides into the room, a powerful presence just like that of his father’s. He studies my face before demanding, “Are you ever not in trouble?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “If someone’s going to lecture me, let it be your dad. You’re a year younger than me. I can still take you.”
My friend and the current police commissioner scoffs at me. “In your dreams, Agatha.”
I spot the file in his hand as he greets the rest of the people in the room. “What’s that?”
Henry hands the file to Ian, his face grim. “That’s all I have on your stalker.”
Ian moves through the scant few papers and frowns. “This tells us nothing.”
“Exactly,” Henry sighs. “Whoever this person is, they’re very smart. There’s no pattern here. I took a look at the handcuffs you sent in for testing. I found out where they are manufactured, but it’s an online shop. And the delivery was done to a bogus address.”
Ian stills. “The handcuffs? The ones from when I was helping you move?” I purse my lips and nod. His jaw tightens. “This asshole got into your house.”
“Or was invited in,” Henry interrupts. “A house party, a dinner. It’s not that uncommon for that to happen. You moved all your stuff to your old home. Anybody could have walked in.”
“I haven’t thrown any parties in a while.” I glance at Philip. “I mean, aside from the one I threw for you and Charlotte. That was months back, though.”
“We haven’t established an exact timeline for when this thing started,” Henry raises a brow. “This could have been around that time. Something you said or did probably set this person off. They know your routines too well for this to be a stranger. It’s probably somebody you know and interact with.”
“That could be anybody.” My voice is now strained. “I work with my clients, my teams. I know everybody in the building, even the janitors.”
Henry studies me. “Well, you’re being watched. I can put two plainclothes detectives on you to keep an eye but the fact that your relationship with Ian pushed your stalker to such extremes means he is very obsessed with you, more of a romantic kind.” He pauses. “Are you sure you haven’t received anything else? Messages, letters?”
I shake my head. “Just photographs. Of me.”
I try to pull my hand away from Ian, my body chilling at the realization that I am putting him in danger, but he won’t let go.
He gives me a pleasant smile and embraces me.
“I don’t believe it has escaped your stalker’s notice that you’re tossing out his gifts. It’s probably a combination of that and Ian staying with you that pushed him to today’s incident. Things will only get worse from here.”
I want to curl into myself, this crawling dread in my bones making me want to leave the room along with all the problems that are being thrust upon me. However, I force myself to slowly breathe to calm myself down. “What about the email address that I got the message from?”
“Bogus. Fake one. Created and discarded within minutes of you receiving that email.” Henry watches me like a hawk. “Are you sure you haven’t seen that guy again?”
I shake my head.
“Maybe you should take a vacation?” Fergus suggests.
I raise my brows at him. “Are you suggesting I run away?”
&n
bsp; Henry interrupts then. “It won’t matter. Either she’ll be followed, or the stalker will wait. I need to know your daily schedules, everything.”
“Jenna,” I said automatically. “She handles everything. She’s been down with a cold for a week or so, but I have her address on file.”
“And how long have you known her?”
I smile warmly. “Since college. We lived in the same dorm.”
Henry nods. “I’ll have a word with her then. You look after yourself.” He nods at everyone else and leaves.
“Well, I should—” My words die when I see everyone glaring at me, and I immediately change the ending of that sentence, “—go to bed. I should go to bed and rest.”
Even as I mute the conversation that breaks around me, I start planning how to escape to the office.
It’s easy to cover stitches with makeup.
It isn’t easy to ignore the man glaring at me from the table across the coffee shop.
It had taken a lot of threatening to finally get Jacob to take me to my meetings. I had finally told him that if he didn’t drive me, then I would just take a taxi.
That offended the older man, and he begrudgingly drove me to this meeting. However, he chose to sit in the restaurant to keep an eye on me.
The client I am supposed to be meeting is one of my older ones. He just set up a new company and wants me to spearhead its PR department. I smooth my blue jacket and cross one leg over the other, impatience in my blood.
The sooner this meeting ends, the sooner I can get back home. Ian was called away to an important meeting the moment we had stepped back into my apartment and I know he will be a few hours. So, I am taking this opportunity to wrap up my meetings he insisted I cancel.
To say that I am feeling a little guilty is an understatement. But I can’t abandon my work and career simply because he wants me to be safe.
I am in a public setting.
Unless my stalker intends to blow up this restaurant, I am as safe as I can get.
Seeing my client walk in, I school my features into a professional smile and stand up, ignoring the slight twinge in my leg that I noticed after returning from the hospital this morning.
The meeting is going without a hitch ‘til Michael gets a phone call.
I excuse myself and go to freshen up.
Walking into the bathroom, I text Jenna to reschedule my meeting with George this evening because Ian will be back and I am supposed to be in bed.
I feel her sympathy about my situation through her words and smile. Even while sick, she still insists on working from home.
Taking out my lipstick, I fix it.
I am just about to powder my nose when the lights flicker.
Frowning, I lean forward towards the mirror when the lights go out, plunging the room into pitch black darkness.
“What the hell?” I murmur, straightening.
When the light suddenly flashes on, I am no longer alone in the bathroom.
The figure standing behind me wears a dark hoodie which is pulled over his head, hiding his hair. The familiar clown mask makes my heart nearly stop. He advances on me, and I start spinning to back away, unable to find my voice to scream.
My back hits the wall, and just at the moment, I find some strength in my quivering body. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
He tilts his head, and I see something glint in his hand as he draws something out from his pocket.
I don’t know where I get that bit of courage from, but my hands tighten on my purse, and I swing it at him, survival instincts in full gear.
He ducks and makes a grab at me, ripping my blouse in the process.
Kicking at him with my heel, I push past him and throw open the bathroom door, throwing myself into the hallway. I hear the sound of him shuffling inside, but I don’t wait around for him.
I bump into a surprised server and hear some words come out of his mouth, but my brain isn’t working. I keep moving, and as soon as I reached the dining area, my hands automatically go to my jacket, which I pull together to hide my torn blouse.
My eyes are wild, and I lower my head as I quickly walk past the startled Michael, straight to where Jacob sits.
He must have sensed something is wrong because his eyes narrow and he starts getting up.
“What’s—”
“He’s here!” My words are a frantic whisper, and I try to control my rapidly beating heart.
“Where?” Jacob’s hand immediately goes to his concealed gun.
“Bathroom. I was there and—” My fingers rake through my hair, an agitated gesture, “—lights went off, and then on and there he was. I think he had a knife on him.”
“Stay here,” Jacob forces me to sit and goes to investigate.
My knees are shaking and I suddenly really want Ian.
My hand has just gone to my purse which is, miraculously, still clenched tightly in my right hand when I hear Michael’s confused voice. “Agatha. I thought we were… what’s wrong?”
One look at my pale face tells him things aren’t alright. I swallow.
“I’m sorry, Michael. Can we reschedule the meeting? I’m not feeling so good.”
He blinks. “Yeah, of course. Definitely. You want me to take you to the hospital or something?”
The poor man looks flustered, and weirdly enough it makes me feel a little better. “No, no. Jacob can take me. I just want to go home. I’ll have my assistant call you and set up another time.”
He nods. “Okay. Feel better. I’ll send you an email of the points I wanted to discuss.”
“That would be great.”
My eyes are anxiously looking towards the entrance of the hall that leads to the bathroom. I bid Michael a hasty goodbye and see Jacob coming out of the hall. When his eyes meet mine, he shakes his head.
“He was long gone,” he tells me on reaching me. “One of the staffers saw someone in a hoodie running out through the back door which is, conveniently enough, located at the end of that hall. But he didn’t catch a glimpse of his face. He had the hood pulled over.”
I draw in an unsteady breath. “I think I want to go home. And, uh, could you get in touch with Henry and let him know?”
Since Jacob is working with Philip’s company, he and Henry have a direct line about this whole mess. I honestly don’t want to talk to anyone but Ian at the moment. I want his arms around me so that I can feel safe.
However, we won’t be going anywhere for a while, because when we get to the parking spot where the car is parked, the tires are slashed.
9
Ian
I lean against the door jamb of the bedroom and watch Agatha throw in my clothes into a suitcase.
“I’ll unpack that the minute you’re done,” I tell her, calmly.
“I want your ass out of this house,” she snarls.
I don’t take her words personally.
When I found out about the incident from yesterday afternoon, I rushed home to her, dread crawling in my veins.
I found her at home with Jacob sitting on the couch. Her face was white, her fingers tightly interlaced and her back ramrod straight.
The minute I laid eyes on her, all my anger drained, and I just strode over to her and pulled her into my arms. She came willingly, and when Jacob left, locking the door behind him, I just held on to her, not saying a word.
She seemed to have drawn strength from me and hours later, her mood was better.
That lasted ‘til she received another envelope on her doorstep.
What struck me as odd is that no one suspicious came up on the security cameras of the lobby. Nobody hiding their face, everyone going about their business.
The picture was of me kissing Agatha in front of her office window. Another cross was on my face and a thin red cross over Agatha’s chest.
Henry identified the blood as chicken blood, something which is just as creepy.
I always knew Agatha was a strong personality, and right now I know she is trying to kick
me out because she thinks it will keep me safe.
I appreciate the thought, but I am not planning on going anywhere.
“You think he’s going to leave me be if he thinks I’m not living with you anymore?”
Agatha throws in another shirt of mine, and I wince at how roughly she is handling the fine silk. She closes her eyes momentarily as if trying to collect her thoughts and then turns to look at me. “You’re not thinking this through. He can go at you through your brothers. Or your parents. God knows how psycho this person is.”
My blood chills at the reminder, but that is a possibility I’ve already thought about and handled. “Jake and Ryan have had their winter holidays extended so I sent them with Mom and Dad to Thailand for a long vacation. They’re out of harm’s way for two weeks.”
I walk over to her and slide my arms around her waist. “We’ll fix this. Whatever is going on, we will get to the bottom of this. I promise. But kicking me out isn’t going to solve anything.”
She looks so miserable at that moment that I feel something clench in my chest.
“I hate this,” she mutters. “I hate feeling so helpless and scared. This isn’t me! This is affecting my work, my social life, my personal life.”
I kiss her on the mouth, a gentle, reassuring touch. “I’m right here with you. Nothing is impossible, Agatha. This guy’s going to slip up at some point. But meanwhile, you have to be careful. I know you have meetings and all that. But now we know he can reach you in public areas as well.”
She pulls away from me, upset. “I can’t just stop living my life, Ian!”
“I’m not saying you should,” I say, hiding my frustration. “Go to the office tomorrow. Follow your routine, but don’t go out. Make sure you’re surrounded by a lot of people. And then, be the first to leave.”
When she exhales, I sigh, putting my hands on her shoulders, and then link my fingers behind her neck. “Tell Jacob to drive you to my office. I know you have work backlogged and you prefer working from your office. But it’s not safe to be alone in your office. You’re vulnerable there. But if you come to me, we can work together on our own stuff. I have late meetings, otherwise I would come to your workplace.”