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He pounded on my door. “Open up, bitch.”
Whoa. Now that had taken a turn for the worse really fast.
“I’m warning you, Lila.” His voice was full of venom. “If you don’t open this door, you’ll never work in psychiatry again. I’ll make sure no clinic hires you after today.”
How the hell should I handle this? Should I call HR? The cops? I didn’t want to do either.
Before I could decide how to diffuse this situation, another muffled male voice spoke from the hall, but I couldn’t make out the words. Had one of the neighbors from my floor come to my rescue?
Dr. Creep’s bellows were easy to hear, though. “What are you d-d-doing here?”
The other man spoke. I pressed my ear to the door. The voice was too low for me to make out the words. He didn’t talk for long, though, before Dr. Rothwell swore at him.
“Screw y-y-you assho—”
Whack!
Thud.
What the hell was going on out there? I hoped Dr. Creep wasn’t hurting one of my neighbors. I peered through the peephole but couldn’t see anyone. I wanted to open the door to see what was happening, but I didn’t want to risk it. What if he forced his way in?
I had dealt with a lot of violent people during my residency at the addiction clinic. Walking into work every day had been dangerous, but it was worth it. I had helped hundreds of people recover from their addictions for a chance to lead normal lives.
I wasn’t a wuss, but I wouldn’t be reckless. And opening the door when a drunk and possibly violent Rothwell was on the other side would be considered reckless.
A muted dragging sound came from the hall. I still couldn’t see shit through the peephole. I dashed to my phone and turned it on just in case I would need to call 911. Then I grabbed the baseball bat Nana had left me in the umbrella holder, the self-defense lessons from my childhood playing in my mind to remind me how to fight.
I waited.
Listened.
Nothing. No noise. No one talking.
My phone dinged.
“ARGHHH!” I jumped, and the phone flew out of my hand.
I lunged to get it and stared at my screen in shock.
Hawk:Rest easy. Problem taken care of.
Rest easy? How? What did he mean by ‘taken care of’? Was that him earlier? What did he do with Dr. Creep? Break his arm? Or worse…
No. There was no way Hawk would actuallykillhim. Even though I knew a man like Hawk was totally capable of it…he wouldn’t. Not for something like this. I mean, Dr. Rothwell hadn’t hurt me. The creep would probably wake up tomorrow with a black eye, nothing more.
Oh no, what if Hawk got sued or ended up in jail for it?
Me:What does that mean? What happened? What’s going on? Where are you? Are you here? Was that you in the hall? What did you do with Rothwell??????????
Hawk:I have to go, Kitten.
I knew what that meant. There was no point in probing him with the bazillion other questions I had for him. How did he know where I lived? Why was he even here?
How was I supposed to rest easy when I now had two stalkers?
With the chain on, I cracked open the door and peeked into the hall.
Empty.
No blood on the floor either. That was a good sign, right?
I thought about calling Mae, but she would make me call the cops on both Hawk and Dr. Rothwell.
What if nothing had actually happened and I was overreacting? If I called the cops, they’d find Dr. Rothwell and question him, and then I’d be on his father’s shit list. Plus, I didn’t want to get Hawk in trouble.
There was nothing I could do except crawl into bed and toss and turn while a million questions raced through my mind. I hugged my bat while Karma snuggled into the crook of my knees. Half a minute later, she was asleep. Her little snores filled the room and settled my nerves.
