Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Cole stands at the door, allowing the few people left inside of Doc’s to exit before he closes and locks it.
It’s closing time, and today has seemed to drag on endlessly.
After Maverick left this morning, I managed to fall back asleep and stay that way for most of the day.
He’s flooded my thoughts for most of the day, and I think that was his goal with how he woke me up.
Sadist.
Smiling to myself, I grab a rag from the cabinet under the cash register and begin wiping down the bar top.
Throughout my shift, whenever the door would open I’d catch myself hoping it was him walking in.
I can honestly say that in a very short amount of time, I have become completely captivated by him.
The feeling of safety his presence provides, the firm yet somehow gentle touch of his hands, the timber in his voice, his captivating eyes, everything about him.
Pulling my phone from my back pocket–for the hundredth time tonight–I check to see if he’s messaged me at all and frown when there are no notifications. Shoving it back in my pocket, I continue my task of wiping the bar down and blow some stray wisps of hair out of my face.
“His meeting took longer than he thought it would. He got back home a while ago, but had something come up that needed his attention.” Cole says from his corner booth, and I raise my head to look at him.
Feeling the heat in my cheeks, I clear my throat.
“No need to be embarrassed, Parker. I think he’s just as smitten with you as you clearly are with him. ” Cole snorts and shakes his head.
This is the most he’s spoken to me since he started working here a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t mind that he didn’t speak much, though it did make the closing routine a little awkward with him just sitting in the corner, never having anything to say.
“What makes you say that?” I press, grabbing the broom and rounding the end of the bar. Keeping my back to Cole–so he doesn’t see the obvious embarrassment written on my face–I begin sweeping the floor around the bar stools.
“I’ve been working for Mav for about a year now.
He’s the type of guy, that no matter what the situation is, you can never tell how he’s feeling.
He’s stoic at all times, even when he’s pissed.
He’s unpredictable in that sense. Last night though, when that asshole grabbed you, his entire demeanor changed to something I’ve never seen from him. ”
“And what was that?”
“Rage.” Cole says and I freeze in place. Slowly, I turn to face him. I noticed how angry he was as soon as I looked over at them last night, but I’m surprised to find out that Cole has never seen that kind of reaction from him before.
“You’ve never seen him angry?”
“Oh, I’ve seen him angry. It’s just not usually until he does something with it that you see it, and by then, it’s too late.”
Nodding, I go back to sweeping and Cole goes back to looking at his phone. After finishing my closing chores, we make our way out into the parking lot. Cole locks the door and we walk over to where both of our cars are parked. Tonight, he’s parked beside me instead of down the lot.
“Goodnight, Cole. I’ll see you in a couple of days.” I tell him as I fish my keys out of my purse. My eyes lift to my car and my face scrunches, Cole stops beside me.
“What the fuck?” He growls.
All four tires on my car are completely flat.
“My pressure sensors weren’t on when I got here. How the hell did that happen?” A cold chill runs down my spine and I begin looking over my shoulder. Goosebumps cover my skin and the hairs all over my body stand upright.
“Cole, I think there’s someone out here.” I whisper.
“Mother fucker. Here, take my keys and get in my car. Start it up and lock the doors. I’ll be right back.
” He hands me his keys and walks me over to the passenger side, his eyes scanning our surroundings.
Unlocking the doors, I slide into the seat.
Cole closes the door and I click the lock.
I push the key into the ignition to fire up the engine, and watch as he walks away from the car.
He pulls a gun out of his hip holster and steps back toward the building, keeping his finger hovering over the trigger.
My breathing escalates as I watch him walk around the side of the bar and disappear into the darkness.
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck raise again and my head whips around to check the area behind me.
I can’t see anything, but I can feel it.
Turning back around, I fix my eyes on the spot Cole disappeared in.
Reaching my hand to the door handle, I’m about to get out of the car to look for him when he emerges.
Frustration covers his face, running his free hand over it while the other still holding his weapon.
He comes to the door and I roll down the window.
“There’s no one out here. I’m going to fix your tires then follow you home.
Stay in here.” He says, then walks to the back of the car.
He knocks on the trunk and I push the button on his key fob to unlock it.
The trunk raises and Cole digs around for a minute before he slams it shut again.
He drops a small air compressor on the ground and comes back to the window.
Rolling it down, I hand him my keys and he goes back over to my car.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and presses it to his ear.
Unlocking the doors, he opens the drivers side and plugs in the compressor, then gets to work on filling my tires.
Cole finished filling my tires, and proceeded to follow me home. Thankfully, they weren’t slashed. Pulling into my driveway, Cole follows and stops his car next to mine. I step out of my Jeep and he rolls his window down.
“I’ll leave once you’re inside. I just wanted to make sure you made it safe.” He says with a smile.
“Thank you. And thank you for fixing my tires, I really appreciate it.” I tell him.
“You don’t need to thank me, Parker. Get inside and lock the doors.”
No worries there.
“Goodnight, Cole.”
“Goodnight.”
Taking the steps up the porch, I unlock the front door and look over my shoulder to see Cole watching me intently. I offer him a final wave and step inside the house. Locking the door–three times as always–I step into the living room and watch as he backs out of the driveway and pulls away.
Letting out a sigh, I kick off my shoes and drop them in front of the door.
I check the locks one more time before discarding the rest of my belongings on the kitchen counter, then make my way back to the bedroom.
Flipping on the light, I go over to the french doors and check the lock on them as well.
Satisfied that it’s locked, I stroll over to the dresser and pull out a pair of shorts and t-shirt.
Dropping them on the bed, I walk into the bathroom and turn that light on as well.
I pull my Ruger from the small of my back and place it on the counter.
Turning around, I twist the knobs to the shower and adjust the temperature.
Taking my phone out of my pocket, I sigh when I see there are still no new messages.
Pulling up my playlist, I tap the screen a few times and music fills the air.
Pushing the volume to the max, I place it on the counter next to my gun and let out a huff.
My brain is struggling to wrap around how my tires suddenly all went flat, and that feeling of being watched again outside of the bar.
Undressing, I step into the shower and lean my head back, letting the hot water soak into my hair.
Tension leaves my shoulders as I lift my head to look at the ceiling, and close my eyes.
After standing under the steady stream of the water for a little while, I drop my head and reach for my shampoo.
I squeeze some into the palm of my hand and place the bottle back in its spot.
Beginning to lather the shampoo on my scalp, the song changes to Lovely by Lauren Babic and Seraphim.
Humming along to the song, I finish working in the shampoo and start to rinse it.
Suds slide down my back and into the drain, taking my frustration from only a moment ago with it.
Opening my eyes, I reach for my conditioner when the hairs on my body stand at attention, and a rush of nausea slams into me.
Freezing in place, my breaths start to come in ragged.
The feeling of eyes boring into me intensifies, and my knees start to buckle.
A loud crash comes from the direction of my bedroom, and the lights abruptly cut off.
My erratic heart rate pounds in my ears, making it difficult to hear anything.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I suck in a deep breath and force my pulse to slow the best that I can.
Opening them slowly, I exhale and strain my ears.
Slowly I reach behind me, fumbling for the shower knob.
My fingers brush against it and I turn the water off.
Bracing myself, I cautiously push the shower curtain back and reach for a towel.
Wrapping it around my body, I step out of the tub and over to the counter.
The backlight from my phone illuminates the bathroom just enough for me to see, and I reach for my gun.
As quietly as I can, I pull the slide to chamber a bullet and the weapon softly clicks as the slide goes back into its place. Inhaling deeply, I side step out of the bathroom with the weapon raised.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Footsteps echo in the silence of the bedroom from outside on the deck, much louder than the last time I heard them.
I fucking knew there was someone here that day.
A cold chill slithers down my spine, forcing it ramrod straight. The footsteps are coming from in front of me, but it feels like there’s someone right behind me. Slowly, I turn my head and force my eyes to adjust to the pitch black room behind me and squint.
I can’t see anything.
Bang!
The sound of something slamming into the french doors makes me jump and my heart leaps into my throat. The sound of my labored breathing fills the room, and I force myself to step forward toward the doors.
This shit ends, now!
My eyes finally adjust to the darkness, and I take cautious steps forward as I adjust my grip on the Ruger and release a shaky exhale.
I knew I wasn’t losing it. There is someone here. And they’re about to meet their fucking maker.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Whoever is out there slams into the door over and over again with a force so hard, the sound rings in my ears and the doors seem to bow a little with the force.
A scream leaves my throat and I jump back, tripping over the end of the bed and falling on my ass.
Tears sting my eyes as I scoot myself backward, losing my towel in the process.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
The banging continues and my back makes contact with a wall.
The sound grows louder and louder and my hands raise to cover my ears, dropping the Ruger between my legs.
My body trembles and tears flow freely down my cheeks.
My mind’s affliction of paranoia deepens, and I scramble to stop it; to somehow fight the battle I’ve been slowly losing.
This isn’t real, this isn’t real. Make it stop! Make it stop!
More banging comes from another direction in the house I can’t quite pinpoint through my covered ears. Squeezing my eyes shut, I drop my head to my knees and a horrified scream escapes my lips.
Just as quickly as the banging started, it stops. The only sounds left in my house are the screams I can’t seem to stop. Why won’t they stop? Why can’t I stop?
Footsteps sound in the hallway, approaching the bedroom.
Reaching down, I grab my gun and scoot myself in the dark across the floor.
My back bumping into my nightstand just as a dark figure swallows the doorway of my bedroom.
With tears still streaming down my face, I raise my weapon and point it at the shadow that is somehow darker than the rest of the room.
My hands tremble and I struggle to get a good grip on my Ruger. Sobs bubble out of my chest, and the shadow advances on me.
“GO AWAY!” I scream through broken wails and pinch my eyes closed again.
This isn’t real, this isn’t real. This isn’t real! I chant, at this point I can’t tell if it’s in my head or out loud. Opening my eyes, the shadow lowers itself in front of me.
“Sweetheart, it’s me. Drop the gun baby.” A voice croons. I would recognize that voice anywhere.
“Maverick?”