Chapter 7
Maya
"Okay, spill." June slides a fresh coffee across the table toward me, her eyes bright with curiosity. "And I mean everything. The real story about last night."
We're tucked into a corner table at The Sweet Spot, June's bakery. The afternoon lull gives us privacy for the kind of conversation that wasn't appropriate this morning with Lucas hovering nearby.
"I already told you guys," I say, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. "Storm knocked out power, I needed somewhere to stay, Lucas offered his couch. Very innocent. Very neighborly."
"Uh-huh." Harper raises an eyebrow, settling back in her chair with the patient expression of someone prepared to wait me out. "And that's why you were wearing his clothes and looking like you'd been making out all night?"
"I was not—" I sigh, exasperated. "My clothes were wet. He was being practical."
"Practical," June repeats, grinning. "Is that what we're calling it?"
I take a long sip of coffee, buying time.
"Nothing happened," I say finally. "We talked, we almost... but then that text came and everything got weird."
"What text?" Harper's voice sharpens, her journalist instincts pinging.
I pull out my phone, showing them the message from last night. "'Sweet dreams, Maya. See you soon.' He's getting bolder."
The mood at the table shifts instantly. June's smile fades, replaced by concern, and Harper leans forward with focused intensity.
"Maya, this isn't just harassment anymore." Harper says quietly.
"I know." The words come out weak. "But what am I supposed to do? Go to the police and say 'my former client is sending me cryptic texts'? They'll tell me to block his number and call if anything actually happens."
"You could file a restraining order," June suggests.
"With what evidence? A few creepy phone calls and some texts that could be interpreted as business-related?" I shake my head. "Evan's too smart for that. He's always careful to stay just on the legal side of the line."
"Then we make our own line," Harper says with conviction.
"You guys don't understand," I say. "Evan isn't just some creepy ex-client. He's connected. Influential. He could make things very difficult for anyone who gets in his way."
"Let him try." June's voice has gone uncharacteristically hard. "He's not in Seattle anymore. This is Willowbridge. We protect our own here."
"Besides," Harper adds, "he's not the only one with connections. My paper may be small, but I still have contacts in the big city. Guys like Evan hate having their business practices examined too closely."
I stare down at my coffee, weighing my options. Keep them at arm's length and try to handle this mess alone, or trust them with the ugly truth. They're going to dig anyway. Harper especially.
"Okay," I say, taking a deep breath. "You want the full story? The stalking started professionally. Evan Pierce was my biggest client. At first it was just extra meetings, dinner invitations. I thought it was networking."
"But it wasn't," Harper finishes for me.
"No. He started showing up outside my apartment unannounced. Sending expensive gifts I never asked for. Making comments about how we were 'perfect together' and how I should leave Derek because he could 'take better care of me.'"
"Maya, that's—"
"Stalking. I know. I tried to handle it professionally. Set boundaries, redirect conversations back to work, bring other people into meetings. But Evan doesn't take no for an answer."
"When I tried to end the contract, he went ballistic. Called me 'emotional' and 'unprofessional.' Then he contacted my boss, told him I was difficult to work with, unreliable. I think it's the main reason my boss fired me."
"He sabotaged your career," June says, steel in her voice.
"Systematically. Derek said I was overreacting, that I should just finish the project and move on. That maybe I was 'sending mixed signals' without realizing it."
"Derek is a fucking asshole," Harper says flatly.
"Harper never swears," June adds. "Not unless she's really pissed off."
"I missed you guys," I say quietly. "More than I realized."
"We missed you too." June reaches across to squeeze my hand. "But you're here now. That's what matters."
"For how long, though?" The question slips out before I can stop it. "I mean, I can't hide out in Lucas's bar forever, pretending my problems will just disappear."
"You're not hiding out anywhere," Harper says firmly. "You're staying with me. I've got a spare room, and it's yours for as long as you need it. No arguments."
"Harper, I can't—"
"You can and you will." Her tone brooks no disagreement. "I've been rattling around that house alone for two years. It'll be nice to have company."
Her fierce protectiveness warms my soul.
The bakery door chimes, and I glance up to see Lucas stepping inside, his eyes immediately scanning the room until they find me. Concern and determination war across his expression, making my pulse skip.
"Everything okay?" he asks, approaching our table carefully. "You said you'd be back by five. It's almost six."
Had I said that? I realize he's right. I'd mentioned stopping by the bakery to properly catch up with Harper and June.
"Sorry. Time got away from us." I gesture to the empty plates and multiple coffee cups cluttering our table. "Girl talk tends to be a marathon, not a sprint."
"Girl talk," Lucas repeats, but there's something in his tone that suggests he knows exactly what kind we've been having. His gaze flicks to Harper and June, then back to me, reading the tension written all over my face.
"Sit," June says, scooting over to make room. "Maya was just filling us in on everything."
Lucas settles into the chair beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. His expression darkens as he takes in the tension around the table.
"How much do you know?" he asks quietly.
"Everything," Harper says firmly. "The harassment, the career sabotage, the escalating threats. And I've told Maya she's staying with me for as long as she needs."
Lucas nods approvingly. "Good. What's his full name?"
"Evan Pierce. He runs Pierce Investment Solutions in Seattle."
"Lucas, what are you thinking?"
"That Mr. Pierce probably isn't used to dealing with people who don't give a shit about his money or connections."
"You can't just intimidate him," I protest. "He's not some small-town bully. He's smart, connected, and completely ruthless."
"So am I when someone threatens what's mine."
The words hang in the air. My breath catches at the possessive claim, heat flooding my cheeks. June's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, and Harper's lips curve into a knowing smile.
Lucas seems to realize what he's just said, his jaw tightening as he looks away. "I mean—"
"We know what you mean," Harper says softly, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"Plus," June adds cheerfully, "he's not dealing with just Lucas. He's dealing with all of us. And we've had practice being ruthless."
"She's right," Harper agrees. "Small towns might seem quaint and harmless from the outside, but we're protective. Evan Pierce is about to learn exactly what that means."
Lucas reaches over and covers my hand with his. "You're not alone in this, Maya. Not anymore."
"Okay," I say quietly. "But if this goes sideways, if anyone gets hurt because of me—"
"Then we deal with it together," Lucas says simply. "That's what we do."
My phone buzzes against the table. Without thinking, I glance at the notification.
New Google alert: "Maya Bennett" + "tech"
My stomach drops.
"Maya?" Lucas's voice seems to come from very far away. "What is it?"
I tap the notification with shaking fingers. It's a business review site - a fake review posted on my former company's page, mentioning me by name. One star. Posted twenty minutes ago.
"Worked with Maya Bennett on a software project. Unprofessional and unreliable when things got challenging. Heard she's hiding out in some small town now, but business relationships require accountability. Some debts follow you wherever you go. Looking forward to our next meeting. - E.P."
The phone slips from my numb fingers, clattering onto the table. June snatches it up, her face going pale as she reads.
"Oh, honey," she breathes.
Lucas takes the phone from June, his jaw tightening as he reads Evan's message. "Son of a bitch."
"He posted this on a public review site," Harper says, her voice sharp with anger. "This is harassment. This is defamation."
But I'm not listening. I'm staring at the timestamp. Twenty minutes ago. While we were sitting here talking, Evan was moving his pieces into position.
"'Looking forward to our next meeting,'" I repeat numbly. "He's not just watching anymore. He's going public."
"Before, it was just texts, private intimidation." I gesture at the phone. "This is different. He's putting it out there for everyone to see, making it part of my permanent professional record."
Lucas's expression hardens. "He's escalating."
Harper's voice is grim. "He's planning something."
My hands shake as the full reality hits me.
He's coming for me.