Chapter 14 – Sydney
SYDNEY
At some point during the day, Viper simply vanishes. One minute he’s lounging in the café, watching me and scaring our customers, and the next he’s just…gone.
I spend the rest of the day on edge, wondering if he’ll pop out from behind a bookshelf, wondering if he’ll grab me as I come out of the stockroom and pull me back inside. But he doesn’t.
The next morning, there’s another bouquet of lilies waiting for me, wilted and already past their prime. I half wonder if they’re from Viper when I read the note attached: I’m watching you.
It feels like something he might leave for me, a macabre sort of courting gift.
And I catch sight of him again, leaning against the alley entrance, watching our front door, when I drag the morning’s trash outside.
He gives me a wild grin that makes me hurry, tripping over my feet in my rush to get back inside.
But he doesn’t follow me. And he doesn’t bother me again.
After we close for the night, I consider sending another message to Sebastian to let him know Viper is still hanging around. But I hesitate, fingers hovering over the screen of my cell phone.
We haven’t spoken since he touched me in the stockroom. An image of him standing over me, slipping his finger into my mouth, making me taste myself, suddenly leaps into my mind.
“Lick it clean.”
I navigate away from the screen, swallowing hard, my face too warm.
I open Ashton’s texts instead, quickly scrolling through all the messages I’ve been ignoring from him. It’s a barrage of “Good morning, Babygirl” messages, reminders of his upcoming fight, mentions of some sort of carnival coming to town, and…are these knock-knock jokes?
Sighing, I press the button to send my phone to its lock screen and slip it back into my pocket.
Take out. That’s what I need tonight.
Nothing fixes a stressful day like curling up under a blanket with a big bowl of pho and a good romcom.
A nice, normal, romantic comedy where the protagonists kiss once at the end when they finally reveal their thinly veiled feelings.
A movie about regular people who do not have complex reactions to dangerous men.
People who don’t fantasize about being chased down by a psychopath.
There’s a Vietnamese place just a ten-minute walk from my apartment that never disappoints. I grab my jacket and phone, then head out, determined to satisfy my pho craving.
The night air is chilly, colder than I expected, as I step outside. Perfect weather for pho and a movie.
A car idles in the street outside my building, one headlight cracked and broken.
I spare it a passing glance, curious. Someone waiting for a friend, maybe?
Still, it’s odd. This block usually goes dead after dark, when our shop closes for the night.
There’s not much reason for someone to linger in this area. It’s almost suspicious.
The second I think it, I laugh, shaking the thought away.
I’ve been reading too many of Justin’s Blake Callahan thrillers, I guess.
They’re fun, but they’re clearly making me paranoid.
Everything means something in those books, you know?
Every little detail is a clue, and every parked car could hold a potential killer.
Real life just isn’t that interesting.
Except, when I turn the corner and start making my way toward the restaurant, the car moves too. It rolls forward, stopping at the intersection. Waiting. When I continue down the block, it moves with me, not speeding up or slowing down. Just keeping pace.
Definitely weird. I pull my jacket tighter, picking up my steps, hurrying down the block. I reach the crosswalk just as the lights start to turn, the walk signal flashing red, urging me to quicken my pace.
Crap.
I break into a jog, rushing out into the street. I’m almost at the other side of the intersection when I catch sight of a pair of headlights, barreling toward me.
Double crap.
But this isn’t just someone running a red light. The car is aiming right at me, speeding into the wrong lane, coming at me intentionally.
I barely manage to get out of the way in time, diving for the opposite curb as the car swerves toward me.
Frantic, I throw myself into the doorway of the closest building, hitting the wall brick entryway hard and turning to watch as the car jumps the curb and screeches to a stop, just inches away from me.
My heart is racing. Someone is shouting. Other cars are honking, laying on their horns. I cower there, pressed against the doorframe, gasping for breath.
The car just sits there in front of me. Waiting.
I can’t see the driver clearly, not with the headlights blinding me. All I can make out is the vague silhouette of someone wearing sunglasses, a cap pulled down low to cover their face.
They almost hit me, I realize, fighting to catch my breath.
They almost killed me.
My vision goes red, and fury overtakes the fear I’m feeling. There’s a loose brick from the doorway at my feet, and I don’t think twice about bending down to grab it. I raise it above my head, screaming, before slamming it down on the hood of the car, over and over again.
As if that broke some kind of spell, the car jerks into reverse, tires screeching before it peels away.
Oh, fuck that. I jog forward and throw the brick I’m holding after it, missing by a mile, and then bend down to grab a rock and throw that too.
“You better fucking run!” I scream after it, wishing I had more to throw. “Coward!”
My voice sounds foreign, raw. I’m shaking, I notice. Trembling so hard my teeth are chattering.
“Miss?” Someone steps forward from the crowd of people watching. “Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone for you?”
Call someone. Yeah, I need to call someone, I need someone who can help me, who can keep me safe. My fingers fumble for my phone, and I hit the first contact my thumb finds.
“Babygirl?” Ashton’s voice is bright when he picks up. “Holy shit, I’m so glad you called!”
I don’t answer right away, still shaking and trying to catch my breath.
“Syd? Is everything okay?” he asks.
“Sorry,” I blurt out. “Sorry I…misdialed.”
I hang up before he can say anything else, staring at my reflection in the black screen. I called him. Not the police, not Jade. Him.
After pushing them all away, at the first sign of trouble, I’m calling them to save me.
Good progress, Syd. Really working hard on that independence thing, huh.
My phone pings once. Twice. I shove it back into my pocket, too overwhelmed with everything to deal with it right now.
The crowd around me has grown, and suddenly I’m surrounded by concerned faces, bystanders wanting to help.
Someone is already on the phone with the cops, reporting what happened.
Someone else is asking if I need a ride to the hospital to get checked for injuries.
Shaken, I tell them all I’m fine. I’m okay.
But what the hell just happened? Was this a drunk driver? Someone texting while driving?
Why would someone target me?
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
Suddenly, my appetite is gone. I abandon my quest to get food and slip away from the crowd, deciding I’d rather just go home to shower and change into my pajamas, pho be damned.
And even though my nerves are frayed, and I’m still sick with fear, I manage to fall asleep almost instantly when I finally crawl into bed.
Ping.