She snorted. Not that she could talk. She was pretty much a beanpole herself—and getting thinner according to the scales in the house she’d been showing. Where had those ten pounds gone?
Yeah, she knew where they’d gone. Stress and lack of money to buy proper food. She was lucky she hadn’t gotten ill from lack of vitamins. Or scurvy. Did people get scurvy anymore? Most people took vitamin boosters when they couldn’t afford fruit or vegetables, which were crazy expensive.
She couldn’t even afford the boosters.
She walked swiftly along the pavement, wishing she’d managed to find a parking spot in one of the more populated streets. She couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes watching her.
Creepy eyes.
Right. Didn’t most stalkers have creepy eyes?
Okay, stop it. She didn’t have a stalker. Someone would actually have to notice her in order for her to attract a stalker. What she had was an over-active imagination. Lack of sleep. That was her problem. All she needed was a good night’s sleep, without worrying about her job or her mother or the possibility of her gums rotting and her teeth falling out.
She really needed to sort some of those booster shots out. She wouldn’t look good without any teeth.
She just needed to sell this house. Then she’d be right. She turned a corner, power walking by now. A stitch developed in her side. Add getting more exercise to her to-do list.
Things could be worse. She had fully expected to be out of a job by now, but life had actually seen fit to do her a favor and give her a reprieve. Her boss’s mother had taken a fall and broken her hip. Not exactly a joyous occasion. But apparently, she lived in Utah, and Pete was her only son, so he’d left to help his mother.
And she had a job for another week.
Of course she was under no illusions that as soon as he was back, she’d be out on her ass. She just needed to sell this house before that happened. It would give her a financial cushion and some time to find another job.
Her footsteps slowed as she reached the alley where she’d been attacked three nights ago.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Why hadn’t she taken another route?
Because another route would have added another ten minutes to her journey. And she needed to suck it up and remember that Killer and his idiot friends were long gone. They weren’t coming back. She was safe.
She resisted the urge to touch the healing bruise on her face. Her heavy-duty concealer had it well hidden. She could do this. One step at a time. She was five minutes from her apartment. There were still people around. No one was going to hurt her.
She glanced around as a chill crossed her skin. No one. See? She was being an idiot.
No one was stalking her.
“Crista?”
She turned with a scream, her legs tangling with one another as she slammed down to the hard-concrete footpath.
Her ass connected with a thump. Ouch!
“Shit! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” She glanced up into a concerned, handsome face.
“Marc.” Mr. Angelo’s grandson. Not Killer. Not a stalker. She really needed to get a grip on herself. This was just embarrassing.
“I’m really sorry. I called out from the shop, but you didn’t hear me. You looked a bit stressed so I thought I’d check how you were.”
“Me? Oh, I’m fine.” She was also sitting on a no-doubt bruised ass on the ground with her skirt nearly up around her ass. How the hell was she going to stand up without flashing him?
“Oh, here, let me help you.” He reached out and she grasped hold of his hand, letting him pull her up.
Marc was a handsome guy. His smile was cute. He had good manners. And he’d helped her when she was in danger. And yet she felt nothing when he touched her. Not a tingle, no flood of warmth, it was like she was dead down there.
Yeah, and she knew who had deadened the area. Now she felt nothing. For anyone. Except when she thought of him. Which happened way too much for her peace of mind.
Thank God, she had no intentions of ever seeing him again. She wasn’t ever going back to the Clacka house. And she was certain Nax Clacka would never have a reason to be in her neighborhood.
He obviously had money. Even if they’d had to pool resources to buy that house, it had still cost a pretty penny. And they’d paid cash.
Yeah, he definitely had no reason to hang out in her neighborhood.
So now that she’d decided to never see him again, she really needed to start forgetting about him. He was just a fantasy to give her some relief from her crappy life. Maybe she needed someone else to focus on. Someone to take her mind off him and his gorgeous eyes, sexy mouth, and grouchy personality.
Someone nice and handsome. Like Marc.
So what if he didn’t turn her on? Sexual interest wasn’t everything. It wasn’t even the most important thing. What if her husband was in an accident and things down there didn’t work anymore? Wasn’t it more important that she enjoyed his company, respected him, loved him?
“Crista? Um, Crista?
She startled as the voice penetrated her musings. Then she went bright red as she realized that she had settled her gaze somewhere south of Marc’s face.
Right on his crotch.
Oh, dear Lord. She looked up at him hastily, hoping he hadn’t noticed. The way he stared at her with a mix of amusement, arousal, and embarrassment told her that he’d definitely noticed. She bit her lip.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m really, really certain that I’m not.”
His eyes narrowed with concern. “Anything I can help with?”
She gave him a smile. “A new life?”
“Hm, I’m a little short of those today. It can’t be that bad, surely?”
Way to act all depressed, Crista. He was only asking to be polite.
“Of course not. Just one of those weeks, you know?”
“Well, you’ve certainly got plenty of reason to be feeling out of sorts.” He studied her face. “You haven’t had any more trouble?”
“Oh no, I’m sure Killer and his friends have better things to do than follow me around.”
“Follow you around? You’re worried they might stalk you?”
“No. No. I just mean, I’m sure I’ll never see them again,” she said hastily. Her heart raced, her palms grew sweaty. No one is following you, Crista.
It was time to leave now, before she made a complete idiot of herself, although she thought the ship had kind of sailed on that one.
“Um, I should get going. Cook Mom some dinner.”
“She hasn’t snuck out again?”
“No. I’ve rehidden the key.”
“That’s good. How long has she had dementia?”
She breathed out. “She was diagnosed two years ago. Sometimes she’s really good. Other days she has no idea who I am.”
“I’m so sorry.” He reached out and touched her arm and she swore she heard a growling noise.
Marc tensed and turned towards the alley, dropping his hand from her arm. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was a cat or a dog.”
He remained on alert. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll go get a flashlight and check down the alley. You want me to walk you to your apartment?”
Yes. “Oh, no, I’ll be fine. Thank you.” She took a step away.
“Wait! I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yes?”
“I wondered if you’d like to go out for dinner.”
“Dinner?” What would it hurt? She never went anywhere other than for work or to run errands. She never had any fun. Marc was a nice guy. “Yes, of course. I mean, I’d love to.” She should be happy. This was what she’d been searching for. A distraction to get her mind off Nax.
He gave her a big smile. “Great. Pick you up tomorrow night at seven? Will your mom be okay on her own?”
He really was a nice guy. “I’ll ask my neighbor if she’ll come sit with her for a while
.”
“Great. See you then.” He turned and jogged back into the bakery.
Crista stood there for a moment, wondering whether she’d made the right decision. It wasn’t like she was in a good place for starting a relationship.
But then, when would she ever be?
As she walked away, she felt like she was being watched again.
Really, she had to stop this.
7
Nax stood in the dark alley and watched Crista walk towards her apartment. It hadn’t been hard to find out where she lived. Actually, it had been disgustingly easy. She hadn’t even realized he had followed her from her work.
She needed to learn how to guard herself better. Anyone could attack her. Like that idiot male human who had just been talking to her. Who had dared to touch her.
Who was he? When he had first approached her, the little female had seemed frightened. Nax had very nearly stepped out of the shadows to protect her. But then Crista smiled at him. He had been too far away to hear what they were saying, but he had seen the male touch her.
Mine.
No. Not his. She was simply a job. He was to find out what he could about her to make certain there was no sinister reason behind the offers to purchase their house. He also wanted to know who had hit her.
And then he would make him disappear.
He didn’t care that Frankie had told them it was against the law. He would simply make certain no one was around to see him. Then he would hide the body.
Nobody would ever know what happened.
* * *
She bubbled with excitement.
She’d sold a house. She stood up from her desk, looked around to make certain everyone else had gone home, and then let loose with a victory dance. She’d just negotiated terms and a sale price. Now all she had to do was get all the paper work ready.
That money was really going to make a big difference. And hopefully, Pete would see this sale as a reason to give her another chance. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d left or from the mysterious buyer wanting the Clacka house. Hopefully they’d moved on to something else and so could she.
She checked the time. Shit, she was going to have to work fast to get the paperwork ready then get herself home to get ready for her date.
Things were finally looking up.
Two hours later, she raced into her apartment. She had an hour to make Mom dinner, have a shower, and get dressed.
“Hey, Mom, I’m home,” she called out as she moved over to the small kitchen area. The whole living area was one room with an attached bedroom and bathroom.
“Crista? Is that you?”
She glanced over at the sofa. She always said hello to her mom when she got home but most of the time she didn’t even get a greeting back. Or worse, her mom asked who she was and got agitated because she couldn’t remember her.
“Mom?”
Her mother smiled up at her. She held a stuffed cat in her lap and was patting it. It was one of Crista’s old childhood toys.
“Hello, dear, did you have a nice day at school?”
She’d learned not to correct her mom; it usually upset her. She swallowed heavily. “It was great. What are you doing with William Shakespaw?”
Her mom glanced down at the cat. “We’re watching television. He’s been a very good kitty today, haven’t you? I’m a bit worried because he hasn’t moved for a while.”
She had to clear the lump in her throat before she could talk. The last thing she wanted was to upset her mom, especially when she was so happy. She blinked back tears.
“I’m sure he’s just happy sitting on your lap.” She moved over and crouched in front of her mother, giving William Shakespaw a pat. “Mom, I have to go out tonight.”
“On a school night, dear?”
“It’s Friday. I’ve got a date.”
“Really? That nice Andy Brewer? He has such good manners. Not what you normally find in a sixteen-year-old boy.”
Andy Brewer had been a genius at math. He was now doing a ten-year stint in jail for fraud. She wondered if he still had nice manners.
“Actually, this is a different boy. His name is Marc. He has very nice manners too.” He was a nice guy. Too bad she didn’t seem to be attracted to nice. No, she had to be attracted to grumpy.
Okay, she needed to stop thinking about him. It was never going to happen. He’d forgotten all about her and she should do the same.
“I’ll bring you back some dessert if you like.” Her mom had a sweet tooth.
“Oh, thank you, dear, but I’m on a new diet.”
Her mother was skin and bones. She didn’t have an ounce of fat to lose. But Crista just nodded. She’d fix her some dinner and bring something home anyway, in the hope she’d eat it. She walked into the kitchen, taking a few minutes to collect herself. She grabbed hold of the kitchen counter and let her head drop, taking a few big breaths. She had to keep moving. She didn’t have time to dwell and it wouldn’t help.
She’d shed enough tears when her mom had been diagnosed. More over the past two years, watching her deteriorate more and more. What she wouldn’t give to have her mom back. She’d been full of life and love. She’d always been the life of the party. People had gravitated towards her warm personality and infectious laugh.
And she’d given the best hugs.
Crista straightened and wiped her eyes. Falling apart wouldn’t help. Getting angry wouldn’t either. She just couldn’t understand that with all the medical advancement over the past century that no one could figure out a cure for this horrible disease.
“Okay. Okay. You’ve got forty minutes. No time to wallow.” Life kept going on, even when your beloved parent was slipping away from you. There were always bills to pay and chores that needed doing.
She quickly cooked up a pasta with some canned sauce. It was debatable whether ten percent of the sauce was made with real tomatoes as the package claimed, but it made her feel better to think her mom was getting some vitamins.
“Here’s your dinner, Mom.” She put the food on the table. “I’m just going to have a quick shower and get ready.”
“Sure. Sure. Me and Mr. Whiskers will be there in a minute.”
Mr. Whiskers? She shook off the urge to correct her. Not important. Not like William Shakespaw cared what he was called.
She checked to make sure the door was locked. She had the key on her and made her way into the bathroom.
After a shower, she got dressed, fixed her hair and make-up and was just stepping back into the living room when the doorbell rang. She looked through the peephole, opening the door with a smile.
“Hi, Marc.”
He held a bunch of flowers in one hand and a small box in the other. The flowers were artificial, of course. Real flowers were hugely expensive and were only grown indoors or in the country.
“Please come in.” She stepped aside, wishing she’d had time to tidy up before he arrived. But, oh well, wasn’t like she could really tidy up the cracks in the walls, stains in the carpet, or the fact that all the furniture was about fifty years old. “Are those for me?”
She reached out for the flowers.
“Actually, they’re not.”
Her hand dropped to her side. Um. Okay. Embarrassing.
“They’re for your mom.”
Oh, that was so sweet.
He turned towards where her mom sat at the small, worn dining table. William Shakespaw sat on the table beside her. She winced, wondering how Marc was going to handle things.
“Hello, Mrs. Nelson. I’m Marc.”
“Oh, hello.”
“I brought you some flowers.”
Her mother reached out to touch them. “Pretty. This is Mr. Whiskers.”
Marc’s gaze flickered to the stuffed cat then to her then back to her mom. If there was any discomfort on his face, she couldn’t tell. She relaxed slightly.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Whiskers.” He turned back to her. “And this is for you.”
&n
bsp; “Thank you.” She opened the box. Chocolate. “This is amazing. Thank you. I can’t remember the last time I had chocolate. I’ll put them in the kitchen.”
It was really sweet of him. He was such a nice man.
She put them in the pantry and turned back to find him standing close. She jolted a little in surprise.
“Sorry.” He took a step back. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I guess I’m a little jumpy.” Way to act crazy, Crista.
“Understandable.” Sympathy filled his face. “Are you ready to go? Will your mom be okay?”
“Yes, I’ll just stop and tell Mrs. Johnson I’m leaving. She lives next door. She keeps an eye on Mom for me.” She said goodbye to her mother, spoke briefly to Mrs. Johnson, then walked out of the building to his truck.
He helped her in, shut the door then climbed in. “I’ve got a booking at Pinco’s.”
Pinco’s was a small pizza place about ten minutes away.
“Sounds great.”
* * *
What was she doing? Why was she out with this male? It was the same male from yesterday. The one who had startled her and caused her to fall.
Nax should have taken care of him when he’d had the chance.
A low, rumbling noise came from him as he watched the male reach out and brush her hair back off her face.
No touching. Mine.
Before he even realized it, he was moving towards the restaurant. He forced himself to stop. He couldn’t go into the restaurant. He couldn’t make Crista aware of his presence.
This was the worst assignment he’d ever been given. He clenched his hands into fists. Was this male the one who had hit her? Perhaps. That was even more of a reason to make him disappear.
Only, she didn’t seem to fear him. Nax needed to figure out a way to listen in on their conversation. He knew he should set some listening devices in her home. Maybe place some on her clothing. And her phone.
And now would be the perfect time to accomplish that.
Nax Page 7