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I release a slow breath and reach for the envelope clenched between her fingers without responding. Scanning the dark scrawling, I shove back the trickle of fear.
You can’t hide from me forever.
I should be terrified, but mostly I’m just pissed off.
Maisy stares at the note over my shoulder, her big green eyes so wide they’re like a second from popping out of her head. She claps her hand over her mouth and another gasp escapes. “No….”
“No what?”
Her porcelain skin has lightened a few shades, making the freckles really stand out.
“It can’t be,” she mutters.
“What are you talking about?” That hint of unease comes back with a vengeance.
“I know that writing….” She leaps up and crosses the living room, then jerks at a drawer in an antique, white-washed oak desk. Rifling through the papers, she pulls out a stack of envelopes. Then she races back to sit beside me. Ripping one of the envelopes open, she reveals a letter.
The penmanship is exactly the same as the note clenched in my fist.
“Who wrote those?” I blurt, my pulse skyrocketing.
“My ex, Jasper.”
My brows slam together as pieces of a complicated puzzle begin to align. It can’t be. Lots of people have similar handwriting, right? “There’s been a man stalking me,” I mutter. “I think it’s this guy I dated for a while, but I’m not sure. His name is Mark.”
Maisy’s face grows paler still, a sick green pallor tingeing her cheeks. “Mark Jasper….”
“What?” I screech.
She grabs her phone and flips through her photos, going back a year or so. Then she flashes me the screen and all the blood drains from my face, only ratcheting my manic heartbeats.
Dr. Mark and Maisy grinning happily.
“Is this him?”
“Oh shit, it is.” I shake my head, my thoughts spinning. How is this possible? “I just don’t get it,” I finally squeak. “Your last name isn’t Rattinger, it’s Jordan.” And I specifically remember Dante doing a background check on Maisy before he let me spend the night here all those weeks ago. There’s no way something like this would slip by him.
“No, my ex-husband’s name is Mark Jasper Whitaker. My maiden name is Jordan.”
“So how could they be the same man? How could Dr. Mark Rattinger the plastic surgeon be your Jasper Whitaker?”
“I don’t know.” Tears brim in her eyes, and they’re about a second from spilling over.
All I feel is anger. This bastard has been living a double life? Not only was he a crazed stalker, but he was married when we were dating?
A sharp knock on the door sends my heart climbing up my throat. Shit, it must be Dante. I’m honestly surprised it took him this long to find me.
Maisy trudges to the door, and as her hand closes around the knob, a prickle of fear surges through my gut. I leap up and dart after her. “Maisy, no wait—”
The door whips open, and three masked men barrel inside.
Before I can get a scream out, an iron grip winds around my throat, and a hand clamps over my mouth. A faint, sweet smell invades my nostrils, and my mind starts to swim. I kick and punch, but already my movements are slowing, growing more sluggish with each attempt.
Darkness invades the corners of my vision, and in an instant, cold oblivion pulls me under.
CHAPTER49
FURY IS POWER
