When another thirty minutes pass with no contact, my heart thuds into my ribcage as my feet pound the concrete stairwell of my apartment building. I charge down them, my steps so frantic, I misdial a frequently called number several times during my short trip.
I stop hailing a cab like a madman when the FBI switchboard operator answers my call two seconds later. She dispatches me through to the Ravenshoe division even faster than that.
“I’m Alex Rogers, requesting an update on a target.” I rattle off Regan’s details to the agent who accepted my call.
My graceful slide into the back of the cab turns into a thud when he updates me on Regan’s location.
“Are you sure?” I double-check while pressing my phone closer to my ear, certain I heard him wrong.
“Positive,” he replies, his tone relaying his confidence. “She hasn’t left her apartment since she entered it early this morning.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
I throw bills at the cab driver, encouraging him to floor the gas.
* * *
We arrive at Regan’s apartment with a record-setting pace under our belts. After awarding the cabby’s tenacity to wrangle the populated streets of Ravenshoe into being his bitch with a few more bills, I enter Regan’s apartment building. I take a quick detour through the service room hidden at the back of the foyer to ensure the security wires I cut last night are still tethered.
I’m not surprised when I notice they’ve been repaired. Isaac is as pedantic about personal safety—or should I say staff scrutiny?—as he is about concealing his criminal activities from the eyes of the law.
After my pocket knife makes quick work of the freshly installed wires, I take the emergency stairs two at a time. I could ride the elevator, but a conversation I had with the security personnel of Regan’s building last night changed my mind. He said they were in the process of having additional security measures implemented in Hector. That usually means CTV cameras in layman’s terms.
The situation in my stomach worsens with every stair I climb. I’m not worried Regan is injured. My girl is fierce, and I’m confident she can protect herself. It is the niggle in my gut warning me that my world is about to be upended causing my weighted steps.
By the time I reach Regan’s floor, I’m sweating profusely and wheezing like Brandon did when he busted into the hallway to say he spotted Regan’s stalker reentering her apartment. The memory reminds me that I should give Brandon an update on Regan’s case. He probably has no clue her stalker wasn’t really a stalker, and that Jay was merely one of the many suckers Theresa snagged in her web of deception the past year.
My bangs on Regan’s door match the mad thump of my head. I don’t know exactly what I ate to make me feel like this, but I’m never eating Chinese food again. I’ve never been so unwell.
“Rae?” I bang again.
This time I only get two thumps in before the door swings open. Instantly, my woes are a thing of the past. Regan’s hair is wet and swept to the side, exposing inches of her ravishing neck. Her smell is fresh as if she’s recently showered, and her face is. . . vibrant and red.
Hmm, that’s odd.
“Are you okay? I’ve been calling you all day.”
She steps away from me when I attempt to cup her jaw to kiss her hello.
“What’s going on?” I lift my hand to my mouth and breathe out to make sure the acid scorching my chest isn’t affecting my breath. My teeth still smell minty fresh from their recent brushing.
I drop my hand from my face. “Did I do or say something wrong last night? I’m having a hard time remembering anything.” I chuckle, hoping it will lighten the mood. It seems to have the opposite effect.
“You need to leave.” Regan’s pitch is as sharp as her lips are furled.
“Okay,” I reply, stunned by the severity of her tone. “I’ll leave. . . once you tell me what’s going on.”
Her already narrowed eyes slit even more. “I don’t need to give you an explanation. I just need you to leave.”
I shove my foot in the way when she attempts to slam her door in my face. The width of my boot means I can only see half of her, but it is open wide enough I can’t miss the agitation crossing her face.
“What the hell is going on, Rae? We were fine last night, so what happened between now and then that’s gotten you all worked up?”
Her pupils dilate as she fights hard to ignore the moisture teeming in them. “Nothing happened. I’m just done.”
The sneer of her words shock me, but not as much as what she has to say next, “I told you at the very beginning, if I want you, you’ll know. If I don’t, you’ll know that just as quickly. I don’t want you anymore.” Her tone dips during her last sentence.
“That’s not true,” I deny, shaking my head. “You wouldn’t be standing here on the verge of tears if you didn’t want me. You want me; you’re just scared. It’s okay, baby. We can work through your confusion together—”
