Page 2 of The Capo

Still, I had to warn her.

But first, I had to get the hell away.

Hearing a slight whistle, I crouched down behind a parked car, placing my hand over my mouth. He was closer than I’d thought. Oh, God. I was shaking all over, ice trickling through my veins. He’d caught me in the funhouse, using the mirrors as a disguise. Blood trickled from my wrist where I’d cut it trying to find my way out, the shattered glass something he’d done, not me, his anger evident by the bellow he’d issued.

No one had come to my defense inside the club. No one had cared whether I lived or died, every guest determined to keep their precious identities secret. And I was one of them.

I shifted to the edge of the bumper, darting a quick look around the fender. While I couldn’t see anything, I sensed he was close, his aftershave unique; the strange combination of moss and exotic spices left me feeling nauseous.

I couldn’t stay here. I was a sitting duck. After taking a deep breath, I scurried away, remaining low to the ground. Then I heard a pinging noise, sucking in my breath as I noticed a coin rolling down the pavement. Dear God. The fucker was playing games with me. Still shaking, the moment I heard his dark chuckle, I knew I was a dead woman.

“You can’t get away from me. I will find you and when I do, you will pay for your sins.”

The man was obviously deranged, so much so I was almost as angry as I was petrified. But I refused to play the victim to some insane asshole. The keys were in my hand, my roommate’s car not that far away. At this moment, I was thankful mine was in the shop, the vehicle far too easy to spot. At least my roommate’s Monte Carlo was older, the kind of car that would fade into the woodwork. I crawled forward on the cracked pavement, grabbing the coin into my sweaty hand, clamping my fingers around it. This was about survival, and I refused to come in second in the game.

I moved closer, holding my breath. He’d cut me off from the club and there was no one else on the street, no one that would come to my assistance. The moment I heard him laughing again, I shifted forward past several vehicles. Now I had to cross over an open space. Dear God. He was continuously walking between the cars. I glanced down at the coin in my hand. Then I reared my arm back, pitching it as far away as possible.

As soon as I took a single step, I heard him chuckling in a dark and demonic way, growling under his breath and racing toward the sound, I bolted toward my car, remaining low. My hand was shaking like a leaf, but I managed to slide the key into the lock, panic rushing in when I opened the door. Thank God the hingesdidn’t creak. After closing the door, I shoved the keys into the ignition, glancing out the windshield before turning the engine.

Or at least I tried.

My God. I’d flooded it immediately. Really? Another wave of terror rushed in as I watched him turning around slowly. Oh, my God. He pulled something shiny from his pocket. A weapon. I couldn’t care less whether it was a knife or a gun. I had to get out of here.

He took his time, scanning the parking lot as he moved closer. I sucked in and held my breath, counting to five before trying the engine again. When it turned over, I was gleeful, but that was short lived as he took off running. A screech left my mouth, but I managed to throw the gear into reverse, backing out then forced to slam on the brakes, barely missing hitting another car. As soon as I changed gears, throwing it into drive, I hit the accelerator hard, perspiration trickling down my forehead, but I refused to remove the mask in case I was a random target.

I hit the road and refused to stop, but in the rearview mirror, I could see him still running after me.

By the time I hit the highway, I could finally breathe. I couldn’t go to the police; they’d make a big deal out of it. My contract. Morals clauses. Tears formed in my eyes, but I was safe. If there really was such a thing?

“Answer the damn phone,” I said in passing, the fifth ring the same thing I’d gotten the last time I’d called. And the time beforethat. The first time, Ginny’s voicemail had been full. Why hadn’t she answered?

She spent so much time with her boyfriend, which was why she hadn’t been home the night before when I’d raced back to the apartment, shaking like a leaf when I’d tried to lock and bolt the door. I’d remained in the dark, staring out the front window, half expecting the monster to burst in through my door at any time.

I’d fallen asleep only when light had drifted over the horizon.

I ended the call, disgusted that I couldn’t get in touch with her. At this rate, I’d be forced to drive over to her boyfriend’s place, even though I wasn’t entirely certain where he lived. Shit. I was sick inside, butterflies taking up residence in my stomach.

The photo shoot had been arduous, more so than typical. And long. I’d worked ten hours and was exhausted. At least it paid well and had gotten my mind off the horrors from the night before.

But someone had sent weird, horrible roses to the photoshoot. Maybe they’d been beautiful once, a dozen white roses, but the edges were already dark from age, drooping in the vase. The card had simply been addressed to me. I’d spoken with the florist, but the girl was only able to determine the order had been placed through the internet. After that, I’d rushed home without saying another word, constantly looking over my shoulder for ghosts and goblins. Jesus Christ.

My hands were shaking as I fumbled with the key, finally jamming it inside and opening the door. There was a light on, which meant she’d come home. Thank God. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart.

“Ginny! Are you here?” I called as soon as I closed and locked the door. “I need to talk to you.” I dropped my things, smiling from hearing her favorite heavy metal music blaring from her room. She was okay. Everything was going to be okay. We’d figure out what to do together. I laughed, imagining her in her usual attire. The girl managed to make leather and chains look good, something I’d never been able to do.

I’d be forced to tell her I had a stalker. Then she’d convince me I needed to go to the police. God. This was so bad. I’d fucked up everything. Why? Why? Why had I wanted a night out by myself? Why had I wanted to pretend?

Ginny and I were an unlikely pair of friends, but it worked and we’d been roommates for a couple of years, although I’d been successful in modeling where she’d been struggling. Still, she had a rich boyfriend, rarely staying home any longer. Maybe I’d advise her to go stay with him for a week or so. Just to play it safe. That was the best plan.

Then what about you?

I couldn’t just pick up and leave, although the strains of modeling and the hatred for Los Angeles and all the fake people were intensifying. But going home wasn’t an option. I laughed. My home was no longer in New Orleans. And my mother couldn’t give a shit. I was nothing but a bother to her. Jesus. I wasn’t even thinking straight.

Calm down. Breathe.

“Ginny!” I called again, trying to ignore the sick sensations tearing through me as I reached the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. She’d left the kitchen a mess as usual, which forced me to roll my eyes. Other than that, she was theperfect roommate. I cracked open the bottle, taking a sip before heading down the hallway to her room. The closer I came, the more intense the nausea became until I felt faint. I could swear there was a strange smell coming from her room.

The door was partially open, which meant she wasn’t with Rory. Still, I knocked. “Hey. Are you in there?” There was definitely a disgusting scent. What the hell?

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