Chapter Three
Sage dropped into the driver’s seat and tried to gain some control over her overpowering emotions. That had been…interesting, intense, arousing. Different to what she’d expected, not that she knew how he’d be, how she’d respond. If she’d known Alexander better, she might have understood his decision-making then and now.
She drove home in a blur of mixed feelings, beelined straight to her bedroom and fell backward onto the mattress. Alexander said he liked her, had always liked her. And until today his actions had shown the exact opposite.
Had his unfriendly behavior been because of Chase?
Had he been concerned about the impact on his relationship with her and his best mate?
Had he worried about starting something when he was leaving with no idea if or when he’d return?
Probably all of the above.
The chemistry between her and Alexander had been even more explosive than she’d remembered, even more potent. And OMG, he looked great. His dark brown hair was a little longer, and that ink. That was new. The sexy sleeve of tattoos wound down both his arms. How far did it extend?
Stop it. She shouldn’t go there, shouldn’t even entertain the idea of him as anything other than an acquaintance, her brother’s best friend. He was damaged, not thinking clearly, and had a minefield of emotions to work through. Ultimately, still recovering…if he ever did.
In her experience, he’d form an attachment to the first person who showed empathy, like ducklings imprinting on a human in the absence of a parent. He’d connect to her solely out of emotional relief.
She needed more.
Sage couldn’t afford to spend too much time with Alexander, get even more attached. She wanted to help him, as long as it wasn’t to her psychological detriment…or his. She had to remain clinical, detached, focus on what would be best for him and her.
After making a ham, cheese and tomato toasted sandwich for dinner, she showered and tucked herself into bed. While scrolling through social media, a notification pinged in the messenger app on her professional page.
She clicked into it and gasped.
Your time is coming…
To an end. Her mind filled in the missing words. Some might argue her off-kilter, overly suspicious brain had made an absolute assumption, the cumulative effect of the messages drawing her to that extreme conclusion.
The sudden rapid beat of her heart made her dizzy. It wasn’t a blatant threat, but the clear-as-icy-cold-spring-water insinuation couldn’t be ignored.
Was her reaction extreme? Too early to tell. She had no idea exactly who or what she was dealing with, and she lacked enough evidence for law enforcement to take her seriously.
Her experience of working with traumatized people had proven how quickly authorities discounted their stories. They often put reports down to stress, paranoia, mental illness.
Although she didn’t want to be viewed in that way, she also didn’t want to become a statistic. She needed to find the safest path to handle the precarious situation.
Unease crept along her spine like a noxious, strangling vine, winding and choking. How long could she exist in limbo? Uncertain. Jittery. If the messages didn’t stop, she’d have to confide in someone, get some of the growing emotional weight off her chest. But who? Who would believe her?
Sage ensured her external sensor lights worked, double-checked she’d locked all the doors and scrambled into bed. A twitchy, nervous wreck, she put her mobile on the bedside table with a trembling hand.
How long could the hypervigilance last? The human body could only sustain so much over-production of adrenaline before it crashed. She tried to relax. However, her eyes stretched so wide they stung. Her stomach clenched as if squeezed by an iron fist. Her heart rate accelerated like a ticking time-bomb. So much for taking it easy.
At times like this, she wished she had someone at home—a housemate, a partner she could turn to and discuss her concerns.
A scratch, a creak, a thump. Her hearing seemed hypersensitive to every little sound. Just the house settling—or so she hoped. She swallowed the lump of fear lodged in her throat and shot off the bed to bolt her bedroom door in case she’d gotten it wrong.
Anyone poking around would have to smash the bedroom window or break the lock and burst through the door in order to get to her.
There would be no mistaking those noises. She snatched her phone off the nightstand, typed in the emergency services number and watched the bedroom door, darting her head periodically to look out of the second story window.
If she house-shared, had backing from another person, it would have given her more confidence to call the cops. It’d make the police less likely to question her sanity, less likely to label her as an over-sensitive, paranoid, hysterical woman living by herself.
Everything went quiet. Maybe she’d imagined things, the din exaggerated in her mind, following the most recent disconcerting message.
She switched off the lamp, lay down and started to doze. An insistent tapping roused her from sleep. Sage sat up, twisting her head to the window, a film of cold sweat coating her skin and soaking into her slip.
Nothing.
No one.
Her fear manipulating her imagination.
She had to get a fucking grip. Settle down. Not be a full-on, jumpy, adrenaline junkie.
Sage’s breaths shunted in and out of her lungs. Her phone had dropped onto the quilt, over her lap. Trying to control her hyperventilated breathing, she grabbed her mobile in her shaky hand and used her fingerprint to unlock the screen, her thumb hovering over the green call button.
The rattling started again, and she tapped the touch-lamp. Her gaze flew to the door. The handle shifted up and down, up and down, up and down, but thankfully the door didn’t budge.
“Leave me alone.” Terror tore through her, her voice coming out all cracked and powerless.
A greater force slammed against the solid wood and pumped the handle.
Sage gasped, a surge of fear-induced perspiration making her skin clammy and cloying. “Get out of here, or I’ll call the police.”
The shoving stopped, and a door slammed shut in the distance. The front door? How had the person gotten in? And had they really left or was it a trick to draw her out?
Oh God.
Air sawed in and out of her lungs, and her vision turned blotchy.
Breathe.
If she didn’t pull herself together, she’d faint.
She closed her eyes and focused on slowly counting back from fifty, picturing each number in her head. By the time she reached one, her pulse had almost returned to normal.
She’d held off installing a security system, thinking it was overkill. But now things had changed dramatically. Sage refused to become a prisoner in her own home, her bedroom.
So she did the one thing she could do, the only thing that would possibly give her some peace, some ability to get a half-decent rest. She called Chase.
His phone rang once, twice. “Sis?” Chase’s voice slurred with lingering sleepiness.
Thank God. She blew out a huge breath. “I need you to come over.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Please.” She didn’t even try to keep the desperation out of her tone.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” He suddenly sounded wide awake.
“Someone broke in, I think. I’ll explain when you get here.”
“You think?”
“I didn’t see them, I… Please, just get over here.”
“Okay. Try to stay calm and lock yourself in a room.”
“I’m in my bedroom. It’s bolted.”
“Good. I’m on my way.”
Relief, like an antacid, settled some of the churning worry in her stomach. He lived close-by so should arrive shortly—and he had a key. He could let himself in, if required.
The minutes seemed to drag, like wading through quicksand—slow, swamping, sinking.
The longer she waited, the more her mind mulled over every little detail. Had the break-in been related to the carefully constructed threats or was it a coincidence? She didn’t want to presume the two were linked, because, if they were, her tormentor had gone to a whole new, fucking-scary level.
Although frightened, she refused to leave her home, even temporarily. It would essentially be admitting defeat. The fear may have multiplied in every cell of her body like a contagious virus, but she wouldn’t give in, wouldn’t let this offender win—assuming it was the same person.
Three distinct raps in the distance made her jump and her heart raced to red-line level.
“Sis, it’s me, Chase. Can I come in?”
“Yes. Be careful.”
Footsteps thudded on the floor in her front foyer and got louder as he climbed the stairs, then fell away and strengthened again.
“Chase?”
“Just checking the place.”
A few moments later, several sharp knocks shook her bedroom door, and she startled.
“Sage?”
“Hang on.” She jumped out of bed, slipped into her robe and opened the door.
Chase stood there in tracksuit pants and a T-shirt. She hadn’t seen him in casual gear in years, since they’d lived at home with their parents. “You okay?”
Unbidden tears trickled down her face, and she threw her arms around him. “I am now.”
“The front door was open. Are you sure you locked it last night?” He held her in a soothing embrace, his tone calm, yet tinged with worry.
“Yes. I double-checked before I went to bed. I think whoever broke in entered somewhere else and left through the front.”
“The laundry. Looks like they jimmied the window open and lifted off the fly screen.”
“Oh.” Any of the three people she’d tentatively considered could fit through there.
“Have you reported it to the police?”
“Not yet.”
Chase pulled away and looked her in the eye. “You should.”
“First I need to check if the intruder took anything. I don’t think they did. They weren’t here long enough. And I wasn’t hurt, so will the cops even believe me? They don’t have the resources to pursue a non-crime.”
“Breaking and entering is still a crime, whether things are stolen or someone is hurt or not, they should investigate.”
“True, but I doubt it’ll rate too highly on their list of priorities.”
“So, what then? You’re pretty shaken up. You shouldn’t be here alone, at least for the next few days.”
“You could stay with me. It’d be like old times. Wrestling over the remote, arguing about what to eat for dinner.”
Chase offered her a warm yet concerned smile. “Normally I would, but I’m going interstate today for a conference.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want me to cancel?”
She adamantly shook her head. “No. No way. I’m a grown woman. I can sort something out.” Her tormentor could fuck up her plans while she researched who they were, what they wanted, but she refused to let them fuck up anyone else’s.
Her brother went all quiet and contemplative for a few seconds, then met her gaze with a broad, I-got-it smile. “I know. I’ll ask Alex to come sister-sit.”
Sage stumbled back and Chase grabbed her arm to steady her. “No.”
“Yes. Hear me out.”
She huffed and shook her head, rejecting his suggestion straight up, determined to shut it down. Visiting Alexander was one thing. She could control when and for how long they were together. However, him in her personal space for hours at a time, days? No. Just no.
“Recruiting him makes perfect sense. He’ll feel helpful, useful, not a blight on society, like he’s contributing in a positive way again.” Chase used his calm, rational solicitor voice—the one that won him cases but wouldn’t win her over.
“No.”
“Don’t be so rigid. Your safety comes first, and I know he’d want to protect you.”
“No.”
“Sage, be sensible.”
“I am. Alexander has his own stuff to deal with. He’s not up to this.”
“He is. The circumstances are different. It’ll give him meaning, purpose.”
Her sigh had jagged, frayed, frustrated edges. She couldn’t sleep with a burglar-maybe-stalker roaming around her house, yet she had no hope with Alexander in the next room, either. How could she relax with that sexy, hulking, troubled man practically within touching distance? His energy alone sparked every one of her senses.
“Oh, and he said the session with you went well.”
“It wasn’t really a session, more like a professional recommendation.” And a weird sort of reacquaintance that had ignited her dormant libido.
“Well, whatever it was, it helped. And now he can help you in return.” Chase gave her his don’t-even-try-to-argue-with-me smirk. “I’ll call and ask Alex to come to your place.”
“It’s not necessary, really.”
“Let me make this clear. Either you agree or I’ll arrange for you to stay with him. Yeah, that’s probably better…safer.”
“Don’t put added pressure on the guy. It’s the last thing he needs.”
“Believe me, he won’t see this as pressure. It’ll be more like relief.”
“Please think about what you’re requesting. Don’t bully him into taking on extra responsibility.”
Chase stared at her with a look of sincere surprise. “You care about his mental health and wellbeing that much?”
If she hadn’t reverted to basic-functioning, survival mode, she’d have been offended. Of course his mental state mattered to her, but she also cared about her own. Self-preservation ruled her decision-making, like choosing to put on an oxygen mask before assisting others, when on a plane in compromised conditions.
Plus, her unreciprocated feelings for him still stuck to her like stale, semi-dried honey. The less time they spent together, the better. “I don’t want you to set him back. Like you said, he’s had a hard time, and he’s trying to resettle.”
“I know how to handle him.”
No, he didn’t. Maybe in part, but definitely not fully. That’s why Alexander hadn’t completely confided in Chase. “That’s what I’m worried about. You’re very persuasive. And he has strong loyalty to you. He’ll put you and your needs before his own.”
Chase knew Alexander better than she did, friendship-wise, however, she’d observed from afar for years, assessed things as an outsider, over and above her romantic interest in the guy. So, she had no doubt he’d sacrifice himself to protect her, whether he liked her or not, for Chase.
“I won’t pressure him, I promise. But I won’t lie. I’d feel more comfortable knowing he’s looking out for you.”
So Chase. Her brother mastered in manipulative strategy. He’d played right into her weak spot—making others feel at ease. Kind of explained why she’d gotten into the trauma psychology field in the first place.
She sighed. How could she argue with his reasoning?
Chase’s lips twitched, as though attempting to temper down his pleased smile. Checkmate. She’d run out of viable moves, and he knew it. “Now go get some sleep. I’ll stand guard.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Her brother could be such an annoying-yet-awesome pain in the ass. “Fine. Thank you. I appreciate it—not your strong-arm meddling, but definitely you hanging around. And for not thinking I’m overreacting.”
He swept her into a brief, caring, brotherly hug. “You’re not. You need to believe it, too. You’re not an exaggerator. You’re the opposite of an attention-seeker. So when you raise the alarm, I take it seriously.”
“Thanks. I’d started questioning whether maybe I’d read into things, saw stuff that wasn’t there.”
“Unfortunately, your assessment appears correct. Except now you don’t have to fret—Alex will be watching over you.”
Oh yes she did. She may not feel fearful with Alexander Barrett, but she’d definitely be restless and horny. However, the choice had been taken away from her by her big brother…unless Alexander declined.
He wouldn’t, though. Knowing him, he could only accept, especially since she’d gone out of her way to help him.
Chase fixed his eyes on hers. “Promise me if anything else out of the ordinary happens, you’ll contact the police.”
“Okay.” Did that extend to mentioning the unsettling messages she’d been receiving? No. Too early. Too premature. She had nothing to confirm whether the two events were even related.
Plus, she didn’t want to worry her brother any further. By tomorrow, she’d have her own big, burly bouncer by her side, so she had nothing more to stress about. Right?