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“Go, have fun with Alex. Anyway, I’ve got John Cena outside waiting for me,” I joke, tossing a thumb in the direction of the lobby of the spa. He’s been sitting out there, probably making people uncomfortable for the last five hours.
We both reach our lockers, the locker room empty, but we can hear the showers running, and both of us shrug with Delaney saying, “You really do have a kick ass bathroom at Ethan’s, maybe just go home and shower there.”
“I will. It will make you feel better.” I wink at her, and she laughs.
“Am I that obvious?”
“Maybe a little. You have a really expressive face,” I tell her, and we can’t help but laugh. Delaney can’t hide anything; her face pretty much says what she’s thinking.
I unlock my locker and pull my phone out, checking to see if I missed anything from Ethan. Not that I think he would have sent me a text. He knows where I am, and it was his idea that I spend the day unwinding.
But when I look at the screen, I gasp out loud, nearly dropping my phone on the floor. My legs go weak, and I feel the color drain from my face. A day that was supposed to be stress-free, has just gone to shit.
“Zoey, what is it?” Delaney asks, and I can hear the fear in her voice as she steps closer to me, her eyes falling on the phone’s screen. “What the fuck?” she mutters, grabbing onto my wrist. “Who the fuck is that?”
With both our eyes on the screen, we take in the ninety-seven missed calls. All from the same number. A number I don’t recognize. But it can only be one person.
My hand is shaking so badly that the screen begins to blur, my eyes trying to focus on the number of missed calls. Maybe I’m seeing it wrong. How could someone call me ninety-seven times and not think that this will send up a red flag.
“Zoey,” Delaney says, her hand tightening on my wrist. “Do you want me to go get the security?”
I shake my head, not letting her words register fully. This guy is really trying to fuck with me. First the picture sent to Ethan threatening my safety and now the excessive amount of phone calls. He knows I’m alone. He somehow knows I’m not with Ethan, and he also knows I wasn’t going to have access to my phone.
I quickly swipe the screen, the phone returning the call to the number, and I listen. A part of me hopes this fucker answers, but I know he won’t. He’s a weak ass motherfucker who only gets off on me not knowing who he is.
I hear the telltale chime and then the recorded voice says, “This number is no longer in service.” Not that this is a surprise. He’s still avoiding it all, running from being caught. How long can he evade the police? It feels like no one is doing anything to catch this guy. He’s just out there manipulating our lives.
“Fuck,” I call out, tossing my phone into the locker, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’ve got to call the detective.”
“Maybe he can trace the number?” Delaney suggests, her voice shaking. I hate that she’s here with me experiencing this. I want to protect my family from this as much as possible and Delaney is as close to me as family.
“There’s no way,” I tell her. “We’ve been here before and nothing comes of it. This asshole is just fucking with me now.”
I whip off the robe I’m wearing, stuffing it in the locker, I quickly get dressed. Without me saying it, Delaney does the same, following me out to the check-in area of the spa.
“Did you enjoy your treatments, Ms. Holden and Ms. Hayes?” the poor girl working the desk asks and I blow right past her.
Shoving my phone at the security guy, I storm out the door with him following closely behind. “Find out who the fuck this is!” I scream as soon as I exit the building. Standing on the sidewalk out front, I scan the property, realizing this guy has to be close or else he has someone following me.
Delaney is right next to my side within a few seconds, and she pulls out her phone. “I’m calling Ethan,” she says, but I shake my head.
“No, don’t. He’s out with Brandon trying to find a suit for the wedding. I don’t want him leaving.”
“But, Zoey, he’d want—”
Cutting her off, my voice is harsh, but not at her. I’m angry about all of this. I’m tired of living in fear and I’m tired of this guy thinking he has some kind of control over me.
“I’ll tell him, but first I’m going to the police station with John Cena here and then I’m going to find this asshole and this time, I won’t just hit him over the head with a fucking toilet tank cover.”
“His name is Eric,” Delaney whispers. “It’s on his shirt.”
I burst out laughing. She’s the only person in the world that could make me laugh in this situation by pointing out that my security guard’s name is not John Cena.
“I’m coming with you,” she now adds, her words firm. “Don’t even try to argue with me Zoey Holden. Alex will understand.”
“Fine, but we’re not leaving just yet,” I say, letting out a hard breath. “You’re a fucking coward!” I scream out into the open. “And this isn’t over!”
CHAPTER21
