10. LYRA #2
Unknown: You have no fucking idea how hard it’s been not to text you, but now that you caved and were the one to come running to me, I don’t see why I shouldn’t take full advantage of having your number.
A stupid grin stretches across my face, and I type out a response.
Lyra: Bold of you to assume I wasn’t just bored. Besides, you say that like I won’t block you for fun.
Maddox: Savage. Always savage.
Lyra: Don’t forget it.
Lyra: Don’t be smug just because I showed up knocking on your door looking unstable. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.
Maddox: Damn. How you wound me, woman.
God. Why am I getting all stupid for this man? My stomach is doing flips while the grin plastered across my face doesn’t budge.
Lyra: Whenever you need an ego check, remember, I’ll be right here to put you back in place.
Maddox: Counting on it.
I snort a laugh and tuck my phone back into my pocket, but it buzzes again, and I pull it right back out, eager to see whatever stupid comment he made. I’m already rolling my eyes before I’ve even opened the text, only the moment I do, that good mood shatters like glass.
It’s not Maddox. Not even close.
Hunter fucking Cole. What could he possibly want now? I thought I had gotten my point across, but clearly not.
Hunter: You blew me off, Savage.
Lyra: I thought I told you to delete my number.
Hunter: I’m not going away any time soon.
Lyra: Drop dead.
I huff and puff, my hands balling into frustrated fists as I do everything in my power not to toss my phone at the wall just to get rid of him. I am completely aware that I have the power to block him, but for whatever reason, I haven’t done it yet.
Maybe I really am a sucker for punishment.
Another text comes through, and I check it much slower this time, needing to brace myself for whatever bullshit he decided was worth his time to type out.
Hunter: Working tonight? What time do you get off?
He’s got to be kidding me. Is he really that delusional? And why the hell does he make me want to throw a full-blown tantrum in the middle of the street?
I know I shouldn’t, but I respond anyway.
Lyra: Let me reiterate. DROP. DEAD!
I jab the screen to send it, then pause for a moment to calm myself.
I’m only a block away from Black Velvet, and I lean up against the wall of a mini-mart, trying to find the will to resist calling this asshole to give him a piece of my mind.
Honestly, he’s probably going to assume that’s my way of flirting.
I count to ten, taking slow, purposeful breaths, only when I get all the way to ten, it becomes painfully clear that my little meditation technique isn’t even close to working, so I start over.
I get all the way to seventeen and am only just grasping the edges of my sanity when a matte black Challenger pulls up on the opposite side of the road, rolling to a stop before cutting the engine, and I don’t know why, but it holds my full attention.
It’s sleek and sexy, the exact kind of car I would spend hours racing through the streets in.
I can’t tear my gaze away as I watch the driver swing the door wide before stepping out onto the street. And my whole fucking jaw drops.
You’ve got to be shitting me.
That rat bastard. Is he actually stalking me? What other reason could he possibly have for this?
Hunter stands across the street, hovering by his car as he looks over his messages, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. His head lifts a moment later, and as he glances up and down the street, I instinctively sink back into the shadows, keeping myself hidden as I swallow over the lump in my throat.
I severely underestimated this guy.
He keeps looking at his phone, and after a moment, he walks in the opposite direction, not once looking back at me. Maybe he isn’t stalking me after all. I mean, if he were, this would seem a little counterproductive, right?
My hands shake at my sides, and while I know that I should take off at a sprint while his back is turned, I find myself slipping out from the shadows and following him. I have to take big strides to keep up with his pace, and I almost bark a laugh as I realize that I’m now the deranged stalker.
Am I really following this asshole?
What is wrong with me?
Keeping to the shadows, I follow Hunter through the city streets, doing my best to stay hidden.
He takes a right, and I have to cut across the street to take the next left.
I feel like I’m walking around a maze, and the alarms in my head all sound at once.
Maybe this is a trap. Maybe he knows I’m here and is leading me somewhere I won’t be able to escape.
But that’s absurd. He hasn’t glanced back even once. There’s no way he knows I’m here.
I follow for another few minutes, painfully aware that my inventory isn’t getting done, but I can’t turn back now. Hunter stops in front of an old apartment building and glances down at his phone again before skipping up the stairs to the main entrance.
He enters a code into the keypad by the door, and it buzzes loudly through the street before he pulls the door open and slips inside.
Shit. Maybe this is where he lives. But then, why park so far away?
That doesn’t make sense. Either way, it’s none of my business, and all I’ve done is made myself late for work.
Now the girls are going to have to open on their own while I scramble to finish everything.
I guess they can handle it, though. They could probably do it blindfolded.
Fuck.
I should turn back. I should haul ass and leave.
I keep walking, hurrying toward the apartment building and skipping up the same stairs. I pull on the door, finding it locked, and not knowing where to go from here, I press the intercom button for as many of the apartments as I can until a man’s voice comes through the speaker. “What?”
I keep my head down, not wanting anyone to see my face. “Delivery.”
I’m buzzed in, and as I slip through the door, my heart pounds. What the fuck am I doing? This is so stupid.
Creeping into the building, I pass the elevator, and seeing it motionless on the ground floor, I assume that Hunter must have taken the stairs.
I hurry toward them, trying to be silent.
I’m there in no time, and I lean in toward them and glance up, but all I see is the concrete flooring of the flight above.
Well, that was stupid. This whole thing is stupid. Yet here I am, leading my ass up the stairs.
God, I’m such a moron.
I hurry up the first flight of stairs before stopping and peering around the corner, glancing down the long hallway, and when I don’t see anything, I pull back and fly up the second.
I do the same for the third and fourth, only stopping when I reach the fifth floor.
When I peer around the corner, I spot Hunter further down the hall.
He stops by a door and raps his knuckles against the hard wood before discreetly moving aside so that the person within won’t be able to see him through the peephole in the door.
That’s not normal behavior.
As I watch him, an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. He pulls something from the waistband of his pants, and then just as the door opens, Hunter adjusts his stance, lifts his hand, and pulls the trigger.
A gasp catches in my throat, and I slam my hand against my mouth to keep quiet, but any noise I could have made is muffled by the sound of the man hitting the floor.
What the actual fuck just happened?
Is Hunter the killer who’s been on the loose? The very man the whole city has been searching for? The one the people in charge are about to invoke a city-wide curfew to try and avoid? The very man who’s been obsessively messaging me?
Holy fucking shit.
I don’t wait around to see what happens next as I take off, flying back down the stairs as fast as I can, keeping my hand braced over my mouth, holding in the terrified, earth-rattling scream building in my chest.
I’m on the ground floor in no time, and I don’t wait around to see how close he is. I dive for the main entrance, flying through the door and out onto the street where I’m finally able to take a gasping breath.
But it’s not over yet.
Any second, he’s going to burst from that door, hot on my heels. I sprint across the open street to a dark alley and dive straight into the shadows.
My back slams against the brick wall, chest heaving as my mind races over everything I just saw.
Hunter Cole is a killer. A cold, hard killer. And I’ve got a feeling he wants me next.
I try to calm myself as I watch the building like a hawk, and sure enough, Hunter strides right out, hitting the pavement more relaxed than ever. I don’t take my eyes off him. I physically can’t, and as he heads back down the street the way he came, he pulls his phone out of his pocket.
He frowns slightly before his fingers rush over the screen, and not a moment later, my phone buzzes in my back pocket sending ice down my spine.
Pulling my phone out, I glance at the text, and my stomach sinks.
Hunter: I thought we’d talked about you leaving me on read.
Fuck.
I’m in trouble, and not just the kind of trouble I’d find myself in with Maddox. This is real trouble. The kind of trouble that could end my life.
But the question is, why the fuck am I so turned on by that?