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“What?” I shout at the pair of them. Zarya shrugs.

“Well, what if it is him? He knows you’re looking for him. He knows you got close. Maybe he didn’t leave a calling card, because he doesn’t need to.”

She has a point, but something in my gut tells me this is someone else.

“No, I know him. If he was watching me, he would have killed me, not dress my flower like a garden display at a luau.”

The concern written on my sisters’ faces makes my stomach sink. The last thing I want to do is bring trouble to our door. Father taught me better than this. Years of pointed lectures, drilled into my brain.

Check your mirrors, Patience. Where are the exits, Patience. Watch for familiar faces, Patience.

The man I want is in this city. Somewhere. I’m not going to be bullied like a child on the playground. It’s not like we don’t know something about whoever this is. We have a number and we know they’ve been following me. See, two things. We know two things. But what would happen to them if I’m wrong and bring real danger into our lives?

“I can leave the city for a bit. At least until we figure out what this is?”

Zarya looks up from the phone with sternness in her eyes.

“Since when do we fucking run?”

I pin her with a look. Obviously, we have had to run in the past, thanks to her inability to regulate her feelings. She catches on to the meaning behind my expression and lets out a frustrated sigh.

“We don’t. Whoever this is, isn’t running to the police with your name and address. They want something.”

Her eyes catch a glint of the light. Determination in her stare bolsters my mood. Her support always makes me feel better, even if she is a bit rambunctious.

“What if it’s a trap?” Litza asks from her spot on the couch. Resting her elbows on her knees, she leans over to look at the photos again. “What if the person who did that”—she points at the phone and then at me—“wants you?”

“I don’t think so…it feels more friendly rather than threatening,” Zarya interjects.

I can’t help the heat burning my neck.

“That is friendly to you? Ruining my flower? My art? My whole fucking portfolio?”

Snatching the phone from Zarya’s fingers, I zoom in on the string of flowers. My lips purse as I see the delicate handiwork that went into this act of vandalism. Tulips, daisies, and daffodils.

A lump forms at the back of my throat, making it hard to speak. Daisies and daffodils are the last two flowers I made. This asshole has been watching me for months.

Throwing the phone on the cushion, I lean down to grip my glass. Frozen margarita sloshes over the side of the glass, coating my fingers. Fuck it. If there was ever a time to drink, it would be now. Bringing the glass to my lips, I toss my head back. Every muscle in my body stiffens. My head throbs. The roof of my mouth tries recirculate blood against the sudden onslaught of the brain freeze. Shit. Pace yourself.

“Zarya’s right, you know. It doesn’t look threatening. I still think we need to be careful. But all we need is more information, and we have the ability to get it.” Litza reaches over to lift the phone off the cushion.

Zarya turns to face me with that same sharpness in her eyes.

As kids, we would laugh about how Zarya would go from bubbly to bitchy, as if a switch had been flicked. As the older sister, she takes her duties personally.

“We all have little hiccups. We’ll find them.” A wicked grin crosses her face. I almost feel sorry for the bastard if Zarya gets ahold of him.

“Hiccup is a nice way of saying that you burned a warehouse and several hundred acres because they didn’t change their whole operation overnight,” Litza comments as she takes another sip of wine. I grab the glass from her lithe fingers and set it on the coffee table.

“It’s true though.” Zarya purses her lips. “That fucking farmer had it coming. He was killing the prairie dogs with his fertilizer, and he didn’t care.”

Elitza, seemingly understanding that she needs to shut the fuck up, nods in agreement.

“I didn’t say he didn’t deserve it. Just take pride in your work. You don’t need to dimmish it by calling it a hiccup.” She smiles and bats her eyes at Zarya.

Zarya holds her breath for a second before letting it out slowly and nodding.

“Do you think you can find something on that?” I ask Litza, and she nods.