Chapter 19
NINETEEN
LIAM
Greg Alcott walks the same route every night.
I’ve followed him for three evenings, picking out the perfect spot to approach.
Down the back of the university and through the old underpass, along the terraced street that cuts behind the leisure centre.
Quiet and badly lit, the sort of route many people would avoid.
I’m guessing Greg has never had cause to worry about being followed.
I’m about to give him a huge slice of cause.
Of course, I could have confronted him on night one or two, but I keep putting it off.
If he is the fucker who’s been tormenting my girl, beyond his sleazing over her, Kat will know I’m the one who guts him with my fists and leaves him as crow fodder.
I’m not quite ready for her to know that side of me yet.
But I’m done waiting.
I let him get halfway through the underpass before I close the distance between us.
He must hear my footsteps as he begins to turn, but he’s too late to dodge me.
I force him back against the wall with a hard shove, tangling my fist into his preppy V-neck sweater.
His eyes widen as he takes in my heart-eyed mask and dark clothes.
I half expect him to fight back, but instead he lets out an almost laughable whimper.
His back hits the brick wall hard enough to make him heave out a breath, and he looks up at me with a stupefied expression.
‘What the fu—’
‘Quiet,’ I say.
Greg’s face runs through several expressions. Confusion. Anger. Disbelief.
I wait, letting his apprehension build. This is the bit that unnerves people. While they understand hot rage or demands, silence leaves them on an uneven keel. He wets his lips and looks along the underpass, waiting for someone to save him.
He’ll be waiting a fucking long time.
‘Tell me what you know about Katherine Elliott.’
I see him working it over in his head, trying to decide what to tell me. ‘Nothing. I don’t know her.’
Tightening my grip on his shirt, I close the space between my face and his before holding his gaze. I can see the sweat on his forehead as he tries not to meet my eyes, but he has nowhere else to look.
‘Final year economics. Pretty little blonde who loves pink clothes. I’ve heard that you’ve been making her uncomfortable.
Staring at her in the corridor and in class.
You let your eyes go where they have no business going, and it makes her fucking skin crawl.
’ I screw his shirt tighter still. ‘Tell me what else.’
‘Nothing.’ His voice is high. ‘I look, that’s all. I’ve never touched her, hardly even spoken to her. I swear to God she’s lying to you.’
‘Shut your fucking mouth.’ I cuff him, splitting his lip. ‘You don’t get to accuse her of anything, you creepy little fuck.’
Pot. Kettle. I suppose. Greg folds in on himself.
‘The notes,’ I prompt, watching the way he reacts.
He stares at me, confusion widening his eyes. ‘What notes?’
The fear in his face is real, and he’s far too much of a pussy to be out stalking my girl. His frame doesn’t seem quite right up close, either.
He has no idea what I’m talking about, but I still intend to scare the shit out of him, so he’ll never fucking look at Kat again.
‘Someone has been following her,’ I say, quietly. ‘Leaving notes. And scaring her in her own home.’ I put my forearm across his throat and crush forward until my hearts are the only thing he can see. ‘Promise me it’s not you.’
‘It’s not.’ The words come out as a broken sob. ‘I don’t even know where she lives. I’ve never followed her. I cornered her that one time, but that was it.’
‘But you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?’
The silence answers that question.
‘She is not yours to think about,’ I growl. ‘Not to look at. Not to be in the same room as if you can avoid it. And you’re going to start avoiding it.’
His face is growing purple. ‘If I hear you’ve even sniffed in her fucking direction, I’ll come back. And next time I won’t be asking questions. If you look at her, I’ll gouge your eyes out and make you eat them. If you touch her, I’ll burn the skin off while you beg for your life.
I pause long enough to take a ragged breath. ‘Have I made myself clear?’
A tear tracks down his purpling cheek as he nods.
‘Say it.’
‘I understand. I won’t go near her. Never again.’ His words are a strangled whisper.
I step back, and he sags against the wall, ducking his head down and his shoulders heaving. He’s a coward with a wandering eye, and I’m fairly certain nothing to do with the notes.
I cross him off my mental list.
‘If I hear otherwise…’
‘You won’t,’ he says into his thighs. ‘I promise. You won’t.’
The biting wind wraps around me as I step out from below the underpass. The relief of crossing one name off should feel like progress, but whoever is after Kat is still out there.
Still breathing.
For now.