Chapter Nine
“What happened?”
“I called Jackson and told him I was meeting Elena at her office downtown. He liked to know where I was when he couldn’t be with me.
” And she’d been foolish enough to believe it was because he was protecting her, not controlling her.
“But when I got there, Elena said she was hungry, so we walked over to Blackwell’s, which was close to her office building.
“When Jackson got home from work, he had this look on his face.” An ugly sort of smirk. “And asked me how the food was at Blackwell’s.”
“He shouldn’t have known you were there.”
Chloe looked at Jayla, who had made that comment. “No. He shouldn’t have. But when I asked him how he knew, he said I told him when I called him. But I couldn’t have. I hadn’t even known.” Taking a shaky breath, she added, “We argued about it. It got… heated.”
“Of course you told me! How else would I have known?”
“I don’t know, Jackson. You tell me.”
“Are you accusing me of following you? What? Is everyone stalking you?”
That had stung bad enough, but then he’d gone for blood.
“You know, it makes me wonder sometimes.” He spread his arms expansively.
“Where is this supposed stalker you had? They just kind of disappeared, which I think is pretty suspicious. Makes me wonder if they ever existed at all outside of that pretty little head of yours.”
At first, she’d been hurt, but then she’d gotten mad. “You know what? I don’t need this. Get out.”
When he’d just stood there, staring at her like she’d sprouted another head, she pointed at the door. “Leave, Jackson!”
“Where am I supposed to go? I live here!”
“I don’t care! Get out of my house!”
He reached for her, his voice all apologetic. “Chloe, baby, I’m sorry I got so upset. I just don’t know what you want me to say. I mean, you told me where you were going, and now you’re claiming that you didn’t. What am I supposed to think?”
“I didn’t tell you I was going there because I didn’t know when I called you!”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, you didn’t tell me.” He smiled at her like everything was all better. “Maybe I somehow got a cool superpower and the knowledge just floated into my brain.”
Jackson walked away, heading to the bedroom, so Chloe called out, “I still don’t want you here.”
Glancing over his shoulder, he shot her the puppy dog eyes.
“Please don’t kick me out. Don’t throw us away over a misunderstanding.
I said I was sorry. Here…” Heading into the bedroom, he came back out a moment later with a pillow.
“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. Give you time to cool down.
It’ll be better in the morning. You’ll see. ”
She never should have conceded…
“The next morning, he made me breakfast and apologized again.”
“I’m so sorry, Chloe. I had a terrible day at work yesterday and was in a bad mood, but I never should’ve taken it out on you. Please say you forgive me.”
“Like an idiot, I forgave him. But the trust was gone.
I started questioning everything, looking back on our relationship, and ended up seeing him differently, and not in a good way.
So, while he was at work one day, I grabbed his duffel out of the closet.
I was going to pack up some of his clothes and have them ready for him when I told him I needed a break to think about things and get my head on straight.
“When I opened the bag, there were already some clothes in there, but there was also a box from a jewelry store.” A familiar white box with gold-edged green script. The box was also the right size.
Hands trembling, she reached into the bag, telling herself that it was just a coincidence, but when she opened the box…
“It was the same necklace I’d given to the police. It should have still been in evidence.” Chloe lifted her glass to her lips, only to find it empty.
That moment had rocked her to her foundations as the question popped into her head: What if Jackson was her stalker?
Just thinking it had made her so sick to her stomach, she’d had to run to the bathroom to throw up, had then lain on the floor for a good half an hour before she’d finally been able to get up, but the question wouldn’t leave her.
“I brought the necklace to the jewelry store, hoping someone there might remember who bought it.”
“Did they?” Jayla asked, nudging a bottle of water Chloe’s way, but she ignored it in favor of pouring another glass of scotch.
“Ah, yes, the Diana,” the manager told her as he gently removed the necklace from the box with gloved hands. “An exquisite piece.”
“Do you remember who bought it?” Chloe asked in a rush. Her hands fumbled with her phone, but she managed to bring up a picture of Jackson. “Was it this man?”
The manager frowned. “It was a woman. I remember the sale. She said it was a gift for her future daughter-in-law.”
“The manager remembered.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t Jackson.”
But Chloe hadn’t been relieved. More questions swarmed her brain.
What if Jackson had roped his mother into buying it?
What if he’d sold the woman a story of a relationship that hadn’t existed then?
She had yet to meet his mom, but what mother wouldn’t believe her son?
Chloe had then berated herself for letting her paranoia run wild.
What she needed to do was confront Jackson.
Leaving the box on the table so he’d see it when he got home, she’d been a trembling mess when she asked him, “Why do you have this, Jackson?”
She wasn’t sure what she expected, maybe a look of guilt or even anger. Instead, Jackson picked up the box and uttered, “Shit. I forgot I still had this. I checked it out of evidence when I took your case. I need to get this back.” Grinning at her, he kissed her cheek. “Thanks, babe.”
So plausible, so believable, yet something deep inside told her he was hiding something, and the question lingered: What if Jackson was her stalker?
“He said he checked it out of evidence and then forgot about it.” Chloe let out a small laugh devoid of humor.
“I tried to get answers another way. I searched for anything in the house he’d written on, and aside from his signature, which was little better than a squiggle, I couldn’t find anything.
So, I’d say something like, ‘Hey, could you write this down for me?’ hoping to see his handwriting, but he’d always say, ‘I’ll text it to you,’ and I was afraid that if I tried to push the issue, all it would do was raise his suspicion.
“I felt like I was constantly walking on eggshells. I wasn’t eating, I was barely sleeping.
I was doubting everything one minute and questioning my sanity the next, and honestly, playing amateur sleuth was stressing me out so badly I was making myself sick.
So, I went ahead with my original plan and told Jackson that I needed a break.
I played it off as the pressure of performing. ”
“I’ve been under so much stress at work, Jackson, the expectation… I just need some time to myself to think and get my head on straight.”
“I’ve noticed you’ve been off lately, but you shouldn’t be alone. You need someone to take care of you. I can help you. Believe me, I know all about work stress.”
“He tried to talk me out of it, but conceded when I said that it would just be for a little while, that I just needed a few days alone, maybe a week.”
“He didn’t give you trouble?” Erik asked with some surprise.
“Not that night.” That night, he’d looked sad, but understanding.
“Whatever you need, Chloe, baby. I love you. I will always love you, and when you’re ready, I’ll be there.”
“When did the trouble start?”
“There were a few times I felt like I was being watched, but I told myself it was just my leftover trust issues, that I was being hyperaware, and that it would pass. And then there were the texts. One a day to start, just telling me he loved me, that he was there for me if I needed him, which was sweet, and I was sure to answer, but then on the fourth day, things shifted. He started sending multiple texts asking when he could come home, and even though I told him I needed a bit more time, he kept asking. Then the asking turned into demanding, and I knew I had to end things.”
Jayla shot her a look of commiseration. “He didn’t take it well?”
“I was too afraid to do it in person, so I called while he was working, when I knew he wouldn’t be able to answer, and left him a voicemail. His response was a text that just said No. That was it. No. That night, he discovered I’d changed the locks on my apartment.”
Too scared to be by herself, she was at an old school friend’s house when the first text came through.
WHY THE FUCK IS MY KEY NOT WORKING CHLOE?!
DID YOU CHANGE THE FUCKING LOCKS?!
DO YOU THINK THAT WILL FUCKING STOP ME IF I WANT TO GET IN?
WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?
YOU’RE MINE CHLOE!
WE LOVE EACH OTHER!
WE DON’T END LIKE THIS!
WE DON’T END PERIOD!
“The texts kept coming. One after another, after another. I didn’t even want to look at them.”
Just thinking about those texts had her hands shaking so badly that she had to stuff them under her legs to keep them still.
“Why don’t you call the police?” her friend had asked her. “This is harassment.”
“Jackson is a cop. What if I call them and they don’t do anything?”
“You’re right. All he’d probably get is a slap on the wrist, and you’ll be left dealing with the fallout.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You can stay with me as long as you need.”
“I stayed with a friend for a few days, got a new number, and she helped me go through my socials, block him so that I didn’t have to see anything from him.” And, according to her, there’d been a lot.
Downing the remainder of the scotch in her glass for courage, she prepared to relive the worst night of her life.
“There wasn’t much I could do about the opera house. I let security know, and my friend had her husband go with me, so I had someone to walk me in and out.”
She’d been so worried about Jackson showing up outside the Met to confront her, she’d forgotten that the roses had been left in her dressing room.
“He was waiting for me when I got done with the VIP meet and greet after the show.”
Tired from the long night, Chloe was dragging her feet as she walked into her dressing room.
She was barely through the door when someone grabbed her arm in a brutal grip, and she only managed to get out the smallest scream before a hard hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her as the door clapped shut.
Jackson loomed over her, his eyes filled with so much heated rage that she began to tremble.
“I saw you come here with him! I saw you! Who the fuck is he? Are you fucking him?”
Eyes wide with fear, she shook her head and tried to pry his hand away. He was so much stronger than her, his restraining grip a punishing hold she couldn’t free herself from, no matter how she struggled.
His fingers squeezed painfully. “Don’t fucking lie to me! Do you know what I did for you? For us?! Do you even realize the lengths I’ve gone to?! You don’t get to throw this away!”
Tears streamed from her eyes. She was so scared he was going to kill her, her heart was racing, and she could barely breathe; his hand over her mouth felt like it was going to suffocate her.
Maybe it was the tears, or maybe he’d simply exhausted his rage, but his face suddenly softened, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you, Chloe, and you love me. I know you do. We can go home now, and it’ll all be better. You’ll see. What we have is forever.”
He dropped his hand, and Chloe let out an ear-splitting scream. Jackson threw her away from him, that mask of rage dropping back over his features as he bellowed, “You fucking bitch!” But security had arrived, forcefully bursting through the door.
“I could have had him arrested, pressed charges, maybe they would have stuck, but instead of facing my fears, I ran. First, to my friend’s house, then all the way here, and now look at me. Running solved nothing.”
Chloe’s lips twisted in a grimace. “You know, my father managed to do some digging; he talked to someone on the force after I told him what happened. It turns out the police never assigned a protective detail to me. Jackson showed up on my doorstep, and I took him at his word. I let the wolf in.”
Erik’s eyes met hers, his gaze penetrating. “Jackson Savoy is no wolf. He’s a rat that this wolf is going to exterminate.”