Chapter 2 #2
Her breathing hitched. Her soft-soled sneakers were silent on the worn carpet runner as she headed for the next flight of stairs.
Nope. Nope. Not today. Tall-Dark-and-Definitely-Dangerous will just have to leave.
She’d go up to the fifth floor where the attic was, wait this creep out, then circle back.
Her phone vibrated. Loud in the silence. Jarring.
“Seriously?” she hissed under her breath, twisting awkwardly to dig into the pocket of her oversized hoodie. Her fingers fumbled with the device as the bag of groceries slipped sideways.
Unrecognized number. She pressed decline and stuffed the phone back into her pocket.
Behind her, the man straightened. She heard the soft shift of leather shoes against the old, bare hardwood floor on either side of the nailed runner. Her shoulders tensed.
The phone rang again.
Kiki cursed under her breath. Same number.
She hit decline with more force than necessary.
“Are you going to answer it if it rings again?” the man asked.
His voice was deep. Smooth. Amused.
Kiki didn’t reply. Didn’t turn. She climbed another step. Another.
Then his voice came again—closer, this time. “You are Kiki Reese, I presume.”
She froze mid-step.
His tone wasn’t threatening. Just… certain. Like he knew her. Like he was used to being heard. And obeyed.
All the wrong things to sound like with me.
Kiki tipped her head back, stared at the water-stained ceiling, and counted to ten while she asked the universe why it hated her so much.
Her phone vibrated again.
With a dramatic groan, she powered it off, turned, and skirted past him to walk back down the stairs. A storm of nerves was beginning to boil low in her belly. She didn’t look at him. Didn’t want to look at him. But she could feel him—his presence as palpable as a lightning strike on her skin.
The door across from hers creaked open with the familiar squeak of misaligned hinges.
“Kiki!” Harvey’s cheerful voice bounced off the hallway walls like a rubber ball. “You’re home!”
No. No-no-no. Not now. Food. I need food—and quiet.
“Hey,” she mumbled, biting the inside of her cheek.
Harvey ignored her less than welcoming greeting, opened the door to his and Jim’s apartment wider, and stepped out.
He smiled and said a name that made her jaw clench.
“Mr. Aeto! I see you’ve met Kiki!”
“Not quite, but I’m hoping to,” Nikos replied in a dry voice laced with humor.
Kiki wanted to groan, curse, and maybe launch herself out the nearest window. Or better yet, launch Harvey and Jim out one. Why had she given in to their blackmail?
Because for the first time in a long time, you actually allowed yourself to talk to someone other than a cat! she admonished silently.
The man had been calling for three days. Repeatedly. With the tenacity of a debt collector. She’d hoped that he would get the message that she didn’t want to talk to him, but apparently, he was very dense.
She ignored him as she swiftly sidestepped to her door where she stabbed the key into the deadbolt like she was slaying a demon, unlocking it and the secondary one with ease before she shoved the door to her apartment open.
Then—because it was just that kind of day and he was just that kind of guy—he tried to follow her into her sanctuary. The one place no one—except on rare occasions Harvey or Jim—had ever entered.
She stepped inside and pivoted—stopping him short—and slammed the door in his face. The satisfying click of the deadbolt sliding into place echoed like a victory drumbeat.
Maybe he would take the hint now and leave her alone.
Could seeing him be considered fulfilling her date requirement?
“God, I hope so,” she muttered as the silence on the other side of the door grew.
She leaned against the door and closed her eyes. She could still feel his presence, even through the barrier between them. She shivered. Her internal warning system was blaring! The man was to be avoided at all costs.
Pushing away from the door, she pulled her hood down, revealing a riot of tangled black curls that framed her face like an unkempt halo.
Her skin was the warm shade of creamer stirred into strong coffee.
Her features were sharp and soft all at once—high cheekbones, almond-shaped dark eyes, and a heart-shaped face with the quiet beauty of mixed heritage.
She had no idea who her father was except that he had been an American soldier on leave. Her mother had been of Asian descent.
Kiki didn’t care anymore.
She was a ghost in the world—invisible by choice.
She stepped further into the small apartment. It was an eclectic boho mix of muted colors and clashing patterns. Books lined every wall, softening the cramped apartment like insulation made of stories.
The windowsill above the radiator overflowed with dried rose petals and the herbs that she grew in a terracotta pot. A patchwork quilt lay rumpled over the secondhand floral couch like a sleeping cat. It was one of her many thrift store treasures.
Speaking of attitude wrapped in fur—
“Ms. Peabody,” she murmured.
A tiny, imperious meow answered her, followed by the soft thump of a calico fluff ball landing gracefully on the narrow counter. The cat blinked at her, tail curling around her paws like royalty awaiting tribute.
“I know. I know. He’s still out there. But don’t worry. If I move again, you’re coming with me. Maybe Alaska this time. Men don’t follow you to Alaska, and you’ve got plenty of hair to keep you warm,” she teased.
She gave Ms. Peabody a scratch behind the ears before placing her now-squished groceries on the counter. She studied her dinner options. Chicken tikka microwave dinner and the avocado that hadn’t survived the trip home without bruises would have to be good enough for tonight.
“Here’s your gourmet dinner.”
She opened a can of tuna-flavored cat food—at least that is what the label said it was—and poured it into the cat dish. She tilted her head, listening with quiet amusement to a muffled voice coming from the hallway.
Harvey. Definitely Harvey. Pleading. Animated.
Something about giving her a chance. That she really wasn’t as strange as she seemed.
“Oh, if only you knew how strange I really am, Harvey. You and Jim would both be screaming and doing the sign of the cross,” Kiki chuckled.
Her chest tightened at the thought of alienating the two men who had been so sweet to her. She hated the part where good intentions twisted into guilt. The part where hope tangled with fear. Harvey and Jim meant well, but they didn’t understand what it cost her to let people in. To even try.
“I should never have agreed to going out,” she groaned.
She blinked hard, refusing to let the burning behind her eyes win. She read the directions for her less-than-appetizing dinner and placed it in the microwave. She would eat, relax for a bit, then do a little research—on Nikos Aeto.
She started when a knock sounded at the door.
“Kiki,” Harvey called softly, “please, just open the door. Let him say hello.”
The microwave beeped. She opened it and pulled out her meal, glancing at it before she looked at Ms. Peabody.
“What do you think?” she asked.
She released a dry laugh when Ms. Peabody sneezed.
Kiki sighed. “Okay, okay. I answer the door.”
Resigned, she picked up Ms. Peabody, hugging her like a shield, and padded back to the door. The cat didn’t even complain about dinner being interrupted. Who could eat with strangers around?
“Be polite, get rid of him, flee to Alaska,” she breathed, closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths before she opened them. “You can do this. Just—don’t touch and don’t look too closely.”
Ms. Peabody meowed in response, though the sound was quiet and cautious.
Reaching out slowly, Kiki opened the door.