11. Leah
LEAH
Growing up in the foster system, I saw more of this city’s dark corners than most. It made me good at watching my surroundings. Not much on these streets surprises me anymore.
But some things creep up on you, like weeds through concrete, or the first few raindrops before a downpour.
That’s how this week has felt. I didn’t notice it happening.
Not until today, walking back from hand-delivering a book cover proof I could have just emailed, when I hear my name again from the mouth of a stranger.
I stop for coffee on the way back to my condo. Not my usual place, not my usual route. The shop is narrow and loud, the line four deep, and I scroll through my phone while I wait so I don’t have to make eye contact with anyone.
“Thanks,” I say when my cup finally slides across the counter, and I reach for it.
“Enjoy your coffee, Leah.”
It doesn’t come from the barista. It comes from behind me.
My hand stops halfway.
Something small and cold goes off in the back of my head. I turn. The man next in line is maybe forty, clean-shaven, forgettable in a gray jacket. He isn’t looking at his phone. He’s looking at me.
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
He smiles. “I said, enjoy your coffee.”
“No. That’s not what you said.”
“Isn’t it?” He steps up to the counter beside me and orders a black coffee without taking his eyes off my face. “It’s what I meant.”
I pick up the cup. The heat bleeds through the cardboard into my fingers, and I don’t move.
“How do you know my name?”
He shrugs. “Lucky guess.”
It isn’t a friendly smile. It’s the kind a cartoon villain wears while still looking innocent.
“I didn’t give anyone my name.” I glance at the side of my cup. Blank. “Nobody asked.”
“Then I must have heard it somewhere.”
“Hey, lady, can you hurry it up?” says a woman behind him. “Some of us have jobs.”
I turn and glare at her, which isn’t like me, but this whole exchange has me on edge. She raises her eyebrows and looks back down at her phone. When I turn back, the man hasn’t moved. Still smiling. The barista sets his coffee down, and he doesn’t touch it.
“Fine. Whatever,” I say, because I can’t keep standing here without looking like I’ve lost my mind in the middle of a coffee shop.
He leans in, just slightly, and drops his voice so only I can hear. “Enjoy your day, Leah.”
A shot of pure fear goes through me. I didn’t imagine that. I didn’t mishear it.
My hand wraps tighter around my cup, and I shove through the door with my shoulder, walking out as fast as my feet will take me. I don’t look back. Two blocks later, I drop the coffee in the trash without having taken a sip.
Halfway back to Koi Tower, the rest of the week catches up with me all at once, the way a drizzle turns into a storm.
And I remember all the strange occurrences that I tried to dismiss.
The voice on the street a few days ago, saying my name, and nobody there when I turned around.
I let that one go. I’m not the only Leah in the city.
The man at the subway who stepped off the train and said hello like he knew me smiled, and, I’m almost sure now, whispered my name as he walked away.
I stop on the sidewalk and make myself breathe.
Either I’m losing it, which is possible given the month I’ve had, or strangers in this city, mostly men, have started calling me by name, and there’s a reason for it.
For the next couple of days, it sits in the back of my head. I work. I keep my blinds half-closed. I check the hallway before I step into it. But it doesn’t happen again, so I don’t tell the guys.
Rowan isn’t my real boyfriend. None of them are my keepers. I’ve always taken care of myself, and living in a tower with three gorgeous billionaires, one of whom I’m sleeping with regularly, and two of whom I’d like to, doesn’t change that.
Then, at the end of the week, I’m a few blocks from my building. I’m on my way to meet Rowan to talk about how we’ll eventually end this act once Madeline has the baby. Then it happens again. And this time it isn’t a whisper.
“Hello, Leah.”
I’m waiting at the crosswalk with my reusable grocery bag over my shoulder and my hands in my jacket pockets. I turn, expecting an old client, and find a tall, thin man in an expensive suit standing far too close. Close enough that I can smell his cologne.
I take a half step back. He takes a half step forward.
“I’m sorry,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “Do I know you?”
“No. But we know you.”
We.
“Mr. Walsh wants what he’s owed. He’s tired of waiting.”
I open my mouth and close it again. Looking scared won’t help. It will only make me a better target. I pull my hands out of my pockets and let them hang loose at my sides.
“You have the wrong person. I don’t know anyone named Walsh.”
“We don’t get the wrong person.” I glance at the light. Still red. Cars stream past a foot from the curb. “You’ve had enough time, Leah. It’s time to pay up.”
The light changes.
I push off and walk fast toward the corner where Rowan is waiting, and the man catches me by the elbow and yanks me back so hard my bag slips off my shoulder.
For one second, I think something very bad is about to happen to me.
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
Rowan’s voice cuts through the intersection, and every nerve in my body reaches for it. He comes through the crowd fast, shoulders past two people without apologizing, hooks an arm around me, and plants his other hand flat against the man’s chest.
The grip on my elbow lets go. For a second the man in the suit looks rattled, and then the menace slides back into place, and the two of them stand there on the sidewalk staring each other down while pedestrians split around us.
Rowan is bigger, and he looks more ready to hurt someone than I’ve ever seen him.
But most of his attention is on me. He pulls me against his side and keeps me there.
“You okay, Leah?” His eyes don’t leave the other man.
“Yeah, I’m just—”
Before I finish, the stranger straightens his jacket, turns, and disappears into the crowd.
Rowan stares after him for a long moment. Then he bends, picks up my bag from the sidewalk, and puts the strap back over my shoulder himself.
“Who the hell was that?” he asks. “Why did he grab you?”
“I don’t know.”
He takes my hand and starts walking toward Koi Tower, watching every face we pass. “We’ll talk about the other stuff later. I want you off the street.”
“He said something about a Mr. Walsh.” I feel steadier with Rowan beside me. I’m getting used to that. “He kept saying Walsh was tired of waiting, that he wanted what he was owed.”
“Who the hell is Walsh?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a threat.” His pace picks up. I have to take two steps for every one of his.
“How did you get there so fast?” I ask once my breathing has evened out. “We were supposed to meet at your house.”
“You were late.”
“Only a few minutes.”
“You’ve never been late once since I’ve known you.” He steers me around a cluster of people without letting go of my hand. “You’re always on time. So, when you weren’t, I knew something was off.”
“That’s a big leap, only being a few minutes late.”
“Not for me.” He’s quiet for half a block, watching the faces coming toward us.
“I grew up with Kian. I learned early that when someone’s pattern breaks, there’s a reason.
If my girlfriend was late, it might be because she was with him.
If Kian got home early, it was because he’d stolen something and run.
Half the time people couldn’t tell us apart, so I got blamed for what he did.
” His jaw tightens. “I couldn’t stop any of it.
But I could see it coming, if I paid attention. So, I paid attention.”
“And today?”
“Today you were late and hadn’t texted. That’s not you.” He glances at me. “I knew you were walking back from the grocery store, so I knew the route you’d take to our building.”
I squeeze his hand. “Thank you. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t.”
“Neither do I.”
Koi Tower comes into sight, and Rowan doesn’t slow down until we’re through the doors and inside the elevator. He hits the button for my floor, then leans back against the wall and finally lets out a breath. I watch his hand. It’s not quite steady.
“Rowan.” I wrap my arms around myself. “There’s something else. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning before, but after today, I think you should know.”
“Tell me.”
By the time we reach my floor to drop off my groceries, he knows about the whole week. The voice on the street. The man at the subway and the other man at the coffee shop.
The doors open. I start to step out, and Rowan reaches past me and presses the button to close them again.
“You were on your way to my place, remember?” he says as the elevator starts to climb. “And we’re telling Declan and Emmett.”
“Is it really that big a deal?”
He looks at me, and the expression on his face makes me feel like the question was stupid.
“Someone’s trying to scare you, Leah. I want to know who, and I want to know why.”