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Pacing in front of the movie theater, I checked the time on my phone again and frowned. Paul was late, and he was never late.
I tried calling him, but it went to voice mail. I was just about to call again and leave a message when my phone rang. It wasn’t his number or one I recognized, but I answered it.
“Paul, are you okay?” I asked right away, worried he’d been in an accident.
“This isn’t Paul,” a familiar voice said, and I froze more solid than the sheet of ice on the sidewalk.
Martin.
“How did you get this number?” I whispered.
“I’ve had it for some time, my darling.”
“I’m not your anything,” I choked out, my heart racing as memories assaulted me.
“You’re not his either,” he said. “You will never belong to anyone but me.”
My eyes widened in fear. “Did you do something to Paul?”
“Let’s just say you shouldn’t expect him to show up for the movie.”
“Are you following me?”
Nervous, I glanced around. It was the afternoon. The sun was shining, though it was cold. A few cars were parked in the lot. Everything looked so normal. But looks could be deceiving.
“It’s so cold, my dear. That pink cap is cute, but you’re not dressed warmly enough. Your nose is red.”
He’s here.
Panicking, I ran, shot to my vehicle like a bullet from a gun, but I didn’t move fast enough. Suddenly, Martin was there and backed me into the door I’d been about to open.
Dressed as he always was in a dark navy suit and tie, his eyes as cold as ice, he caged me in. I cranked up my chin. He might be unchanged, but I wasn’t. I kneed him in the groin.
“Fuck.”
When he doubled over in pain, I yanked open my door. Cranking the key, I gunned the engine and left him hunched over in the parking lot. I didn’t pause to look for Arturo or anyone else.
My tires skidded on a patch of ice, but I regained control of the vehicle before I went off the road. My thoughts chaotic, I knew only one place to go where I would be safe from Martin, one person who could hold him accountable.
On the way to his parents’ house, my phone rang again but I ignored it. I wasn’t going to talk to Martin again. Not if I could help it.
When I finally reached the gate at the Skellins’ property, my hands ached from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. I pushed the intercom button and waited. Glancing around and panicking that Martin might pull up after me any minute, I seriously considered ramming the gate.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” Grace said through the intercom. She could see me on the camera. Even over the crappy speaker, I could tell she was nervous.
“And your son isn’t supposed to come near me. Yet, he did, and he hurt my friend. Let me in, or I’m going to the police.”
The gate opened, and I drove in.
I was still scared, but my heart began to pound harder for a different reason. Was Ella inside? Would I see her?
I parked in front of the house and got out. The front door opened before I reached it.
“What the hell is going on?” Winston planted his feet wide apart. It was Sunday, but he wore a suit like his son. He hadn’t changed much either. His eyes were cold, and his frame was so large, it nearly completely blocked the doorway but not quite.
I pushed past him, catching him by surprise.
