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I see the disappointment in his eyes. “Of course,” he says, and he turns and leaves. He goes to the bar and pays his bill, and heads for the door. I stand there in the hallway, watching him. I feel a mild sting of guilt because he looks genuinely let down, but I know I’m doing him a favor. I am not the girl for a nice guy.
As my gaze sweeps the room, I see the man with the suit glance after him and peel away from the blonde woman, heading out the door after him. The blonde woman doesn’t blink; she spins away smoothly and starts talking to one of the other guys in their little group. The group subtly shifts, closing in as if the big guy in the suit was never there.
Damn it. I was right.
I push my way through the crowd and rush out the front door to the parking lot.
I’m looking around frantically when I see them. The big blond guy is standing over Cassius, who is curled up on the ground. He’s kicking him in the stomach.
My Taser is in my hand so fast I barely remember grabbing it. As the blond guy turns to face me, I Taser him before he can do anything to me. He falls to the ground with a grunt of pain.
When he’s down, I kick him in the face so hard I break his nose. I kick him again with the full force of my combat boot, and I hear his jaw crunch.
My hands are shaking with fury as I call 9-1-1 from my cell phone and tell them a man’s been attacked in the parking lot. I tell them that the attacker is disabled now, and I make sure that they know which one of the two was the assailant.
The guy in the gray suit tries to get up. I Tase him again.
God, poor Cassius! He didn’t do a damn thing wrong except try to say hi to me in a bar. Fury chokes me, and I resist the urge to kick the bastard again.
Instead, I lean down and spit in his face, “Tell Joshua to stay the fuck away from me. Tell him if he ever sends anyone to harass me again, I’ll go to the police and tell them everything about him, and he’ll go to prison for the rest of his life.”
I hover in the shadows, and I don’t leave until I see a cop car is pulling into the parking lot. Cassius is just staggering to his feet as they arrive, and the gray-suited guy is crawling away. I watch the cops close in on him. Then I hurry back into the restaurant.
My stomach is tying itself in knots as I go over and tell Sarah I’m not feeling too well and I’m going home early. She jumps up and wants to come with me, seeing the look on my face, but I won’t ruin her evening just because I’mfucking crazyand being stalked by my serial killer ex-lover. I insist she stay, and I tell her over and over again that I had a great time, my stomach is just acting up.
I take a cab back to her house, and I don’t start crying until I storm through the front door. When will I ever be free of him?
He’s got men following me around, ready to beat the ass of any innocent man who even talks to me. I have no hope at all of making my own way in life as long as he knows where I am.
I’ve got to disappear. Go off the grid.
I’m leaving tomorrow.
CHAPTERELEVEN
TAMARA
I toss and turn all night, and when dawn breaks, I give up on sleep.
I pull on an ankle-length black-and-gray plaid wool skirt, thick black tights, and a black turtleneck sweater, with chunky flat boots. My boots have steel toes; I’m also wearing a ring that could put a man’s eye out, and I have my pepper spray and Taser close at hand. I cover myself in weapons these days.
Then I pack. It doesn’t take long. With shaking hands, I scribble a note for Sarah. I tell her how grateful I am for everything she’s done for me and promise that I will be in touch soon. I tell her that I just need some time alone.
I call a taxi to take me to the bus station, then I sneak out so I won’t have to go through the pain of saying goodbye, to say nothing of answering any awkward questions.
How could I explain my life to her?
“My former lover-slash-kidnapper sent a squad to spy on me and beat up any man who even talks to me, so I don’t feel comfortable staying here anymore.” She’d freak out. She’d insist I call the police.
I walk to the front of the gated subdivision, and I get there just as a taxi is pulling up. The guard opens the gate for me.
“Laura Jones?” The taxi driver calls out the fake name I gave him. Yes, I’m paranoid these days. I think that’s a normal reaction after what I’ve been through.
“Yes, that’s right.” With a regretful glance behind me, I climb in.
Everything is fine until, a few miles down the road, he makes a turn that’s so sudden it throws me against the door. At first I think he’s dodging a pothole, but then I see he’s pulling into a parking lot. “Joshua wants a word,” he informs me.
Fucking Joshua.
