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CHAPTER1
OLIVIA
Ibite down on my lower lip as I glance in the rearview mirror. The glare of headlights causes my heart to pound harder.
When I left Belton Community College after my six-to-nine pm psychology class, I spotted a man loitering near the parking lot. He was tall and thin with wiry hair and a build to match. Probably around forty, with greasy waves hanging down over his forehead and flopping into his eyes as he moved. He followed me out through the parking gate, and he’s been riding my tailpipe for miles. At least, I think it’s still him. It’s dark, and with lane switches, I’m not completely sure. But if it’s not him, all the drivers tonight are followingmuchtoo close.
The low pressure alert for my tires dings, and I nearly come out of my skin. Is that a coincidence? Or did the creepy guy do something to my car? I'm afraid to pull onto the side of the highway.
With a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, I exit the expressway at a familiar exit. The cafe where I used to work is closed at this time of night, but there’s an Irish Bar called Four Leaf that’s always busy.
The tire alarm becomes louder and more insistent. And the car pulls to the right, causing me to wince.
I need to stop now. I’m on a tight budget and buying a new tire would ruin the month.
Leaning forward, I stare straight ahead at the dark street and drive faster than is legal. As soon as I turn left onto Carelton Avenue, I see lights that blaze like a beacon, shining up at a four-leaf clover sign.
My tire starts to make a flapping sound. I slow to a stop farther away from the door than I’d like. A dark van approaches at highway speeds. It’ll be on me in seconds.
Get out. Run!
As I jump from the car, I take nothing but my keys. My cheap white sandals slap against the concrete, and I hear loud breathing. A quick look over my shoulder reveals the man—it is him—jogging after me.Chasing me!
“Hey, your tire’s flat. You need a hand?” His tone is casual, as if he can’t see that I’m terrified.
“No,” I say breathlessly, sprinting the final ten feet to the door.
His footfalls are fast. He’s right behind me as I wrench the door open and fling myself inside. The ankle strap of my sandal snaps, and I stumble forward into a waitress. It upsets a tray of drinks, causing a tidal wave of beer and liquor to splash over the front of me.
I gasp as I crash down to my hands and knees.
From behind me, the guy’s hand grabs my shoulder.
He’s got me!But I’m here. He can’t just drag me out, can he?
My heart feels as though it’ll pound out of my chest as his fingers tighten. I jerk my shoulder and scramble forward until I ram into a pair of legs that are clad in dark gray trousers.
From above me, there’s a voice that’s smooth and deep, with a faint Irish accent. “What’s this then?”
I look up, and I’m stunned. Oh, my God.It’s him.The man I fantasize about.
Staring up at his gorgeous face through my lashes, I mouth the words, “Help me.”
He’s blond and broad-shouldered. For a moment, his hard expression scares me, but then a large hand reaches down to gently touch my head as he moves around me, taking a position between me and my pursuer.
My head drops, and for a moment, all I can do is pant to catch my breath. When I look up, I realize half the bar is staring at me.
I clamber to my feet, shaky. I turn just in time to see the man who chased me rush out of the bar. Two men stand near the door and glance at the blond man in the dark trousers. He inclines his head, and they head out into the night, presumably to be sure the man leaves.
When the handsome man turns, his expression is dark.
“Sorry,” I whisper, crossing my arms over my chest where my sundress is wet and practically transparent.
His dark blue eyes take me in, from my straight blond hair and thin frame to my dirty knees and broken shoe.
“Not a thing to be sorry about. The day I regret seeing a pretty girl at my feet is the day I best take to my grave.” The grim words are spoken so low that it takes a moment for them to register. At least he thinks I’m pretty.
My gaze drops to the dirt on my knees. I’m a complete mess. “I should go.”
