Chapter 27
Tracy
Headlights blind me in my rearview mirror as I turn onto the street of my apartment.
After leaving Blake tied to his office chair earlier, I went to a cafe to work—and to avoid being in the same building as him. He was furious when I left, and I didn’t need him confronting me about it at the brokerage.
Before I knew it, the day had slipped away into night.
That was when I noticed the blacked-out vehicle parked in the cafe parking lot.
It was on the opposite side of the lot, though, so I didn’t think much of it at the time.
I just made sure to keep an eye on my surroundings as I headed for my car, and thought that would be the end of it.
Except that vehicle then followed me out of the lot. And onto the freeway. And took the same exit as me. And now, as I drive past my apartment complex, it’s still following me.
It could be a coincidence. They could live in this neighborhood. But still, something in my gut told me not to turn into my parking garage, so now I’m making circles around my neighborhood, seeing if they follow.
I make another right turn. One more and we’ll be back in front of my building again.
The vehicle follows.
Gripping the steering wheel tight, my heart rate spikes as I track the vehicle in my rearview mirror. It’s an SUV of some sort, with windows tinted so dark you’d never be able to make out who’s inside.
Adrenaline courses through my veins as the car continues to follow me. With shaky hands, I dig my phone out of my purse in the seat next to me. If they follow me for one more turn, I’m calling the police.
When I drive past my building again and they still follow, I unlock my phone, ready to dial nine-one-one. My finger hovers over the dial pad, but then the vehicle flashes its lights at me and a familiar head pokes out the driver’s side window.
The air rushes from my lungs and I sink back into my seat, my body turning to jello.
Lucas.
But why the hell is he following me? And this late at night?
I pull up to the curb and hop out, meeting Lucas at the rear of my car.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I tell him, then doing a double-take, add, “Are you okay?” His nose is bruised and a little swollen, and his brown hair is disheveled, like he’s been running his fingers through it.
“Yeah, just a misunderstanding.” He thumbs at his lip, and I notice a small cut there as well. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I noticed your brake light was out, and I didn’t have your number to let you know. Figured I’d save you the ticket.”
“Oh, thanks.” I’m grateful for the heads up—Lord knows I can’t afford a ticket right now—but something about all of this feels off. I didn’t see him inside the cafe with me. So, why was he just sitting in the parking lot? Was he watching me?
My face must show my skepticism because he grins at me. “I’m not a creep, Tracy. If you’re wondering if I was following you, it wasn’t until I saw you drive away with a burnt out light that I did. I pulled into that lot to take a client call when you left.”
My face heats. Of course he wasn’t following me. He’s one of Blake’s longest standing agents, and from what I gathered from Craig, the two have had a good working relationship. Immediately, I feel guilty for even thinking anything bad about his intentions.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I didn’t mean to imply anything.”
“No worries.” He flashes me a big grin and backs away toward his vehicle again. “See ya around, Tracy. And get that bulb replaced.”
Lucas gives me a wink, then gets into his car and pulls away, leaving me standing here confused as hell.
Was he flirting with me? What was that wink for?
Maybe it’s just his way of being friendly.
A metaphorical ‘welcome to The Frenshaw Group, have a cupcake’ type of thing.
I could use more support from the other agents, anyway, so I’m not going to question it.
The more agents I have on my side, the less likely Blake will be to mess with me, or worse, fire me.
Though, I have a feeling after our little adventure in his office today, he’ll think twice before messing with me again.
I toss Craig a candy bar as I make my way into his office the next afternoon.
“I need help,” I start, flopping down into the chair across from him that has become my spot. “I heard back from the list agent this morning, and the sellers don’t want to make the repairs we requested for Jason and Abigail. Can you help me renegotiate this?”
Craig slides the candy bar I gave him back across the desk to me. “Sorry, hun. I’m on strict orders not to help with the Moore’s transaction anymore.”
“What do you mean, you can’t help anymore?” I ask, sliding the candy bar back to him with more force than necessary. “You’ve been helping me the entire time.”
He’s got to be kidding me right now. He’s the only one at this brokerage other than Whitney—and now Lucas, apparently—who’s friendly with me.
Craig gives me a sympathetic smile. “Boss’s orders. You’ll have to take it up with him.”
“Ugh,” I groan, dropping my forehead into my hands. “Can’t you take it up with him?”
I should have known Blake would do something petty to corner me into seeking him out again, since his stupid ground rules didn’t work.
“You might want to go talk to him, Tracy.” The serious tone of Craig’s voice has me picking my head up to look at him. “I don’t know what happened, but I’ve never seen him this mad before. He told me to tell you that if you don’t stop by his office today, he’s taking the Moores away from you.”
My heart stops.
He wouldn’t dare.
I’ve put all my time and energy into Jason and Abigail. We work great together, and they’re so close to getting their dream home. They’ve even referred me to some of their friends who have been thinking of moving.
They’re also the only real clients I have right now, and without the income from this sale, I’ll be homeless in a matter of months. And Blake is about to take all of that away from me because he’s an immature bastard who can’t stand not getting his way.
“Keep the candy,” I tell Craig, then wince at the harshness of my tone. “Sorry, I’m not mad at you.”
He grabs the candy bar, tearing it open and waving it between us. “You’re forgiven. Now go fix whatever mess you created.”
“Me?! I didn’t even do anything,” I protest. Though I leave off the bit about tying Blake to his chair, making him come in his pants, and then leaving him there for someone to find. Craig wouldn’t understand my tactics. And besides, Blake’s done worse to me.
Craig’s face turns serious again as he says, “Regardless. Fix it. You’re one of the good ones, and I’d hate to see you go to another brokerage.” He grins at me. “Plus, I’d like to keep the candy flowing.”
Rolling my eyes, I leave his office, though I can’t deny it warms my heart that Craig thinks so highly of me.
It shouldn’t matter. I’ve never let my self-worth be determined by someone else’s opinion, yet his is important.
Maybe because he was so willing to take me under his wing.
Or maybe because he’s been nothing but patient and kind as he’s helped me navigate my new career.
Whatever it is, Craig’s opinion is important to me, and I can’t help but feel proud that he sees something of value in me.
Leaving his office, the clicking of my heels echoes as I climb the stairs to the second floor.
The brokerage is unusually quiet today, and when there’s no sign of Whitney at the top of the stairs, I decide to just head straight back to Blake’s office to get this meeting over with.
The less time I have to spend thinking about it or being in his proximity, the better.
Reaching his office, I find the door already open, and him standing behind his desk with a drink in hand. He wears a black shirt and slacks today, and with his tan skin and inky hair, he’s the picture of foreboding as his eyes collide with mine.
“Close the door,” he says before I’ve barely even crossed the threshold.
The harshness of his voice has me flinching, and I hesitate. The energy pouring off him is suffocating, smothering me with its darkness and making me anxious. I can’t seem to get my hand to move, like my subconscious is telling me not to lock us in here together.
“I said, close the door, Tracy. Don’t make me repeat myself.” He downs the rest of his drink, then unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, slowly and methodically rolling the crisp fabric up his arms.
Breathe, Tracy. Breathe. He’s not going to hurt you.
So, why am I planted in my spot, my stomach swirling with dread as he watches me with cold, calculating eyes?
He’s pissed. More so than I’ve ever seen him before.
Which is ironic, considering everything he’s done to me. He’s the one who broke into my apartment, duct taped my arms together, and forced himself down my throat. He’s the one who told me I’m nothing to him. He’s the one who’s been abusing his position to take advantage of me.
“Shut the fucking door!” he snaps, and I jump.
He’s never raised his voice before, and it has my heart thundering, my shoulders curling in on themselves in an attempt to make myself small.
“If you want any chance of keeping the Moores as clients, you’ll close that fucking door and walk your ass over to this desk. ”
My mind races, unsure of what to do. I don’t want to listen.
I don’t want to give in. In fact, I want to run for the hills with the way he’s looking at me right now.
But he’s threatening to take away my livelihood, threatening to take away everything I’ve been pouring my heart and soul into, and I can’t afford to give in.
Swallowing my pride, I push the door closed, the click of the latch catching loud in the deafening silence.
Forcing my feet to move, I walk over to his desk, my palms sweaty at my sides.
Breathe. He’s probably just going to chew you out, then you can go back downstairs and forget this ever happened.
But I don’t believe my own reasoning.