Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
I step out onto the sidewalk and am immediately blasted by a cold wind that demands that I pull my coat tighter around my chest. My whole body feels cold.
The temperature outside is nearing freezing conditions, but it's not only that that has me shivering.
The reality of my situation is wrapping its icy fingers around my throat, forcing my breaths out in small huffs.
I stare down the city street in the direction I need to go.
The wind whips between the buildings, throwing crumpled papers and old napkins into the air.
They dance in the wind like some kind of garbage ballet.
I suck in a deep breath through my nose.
At least the cold air hides the smells of the city.
With an exacerbated grunt, I force my feet to move.
The walk from Emily’s apartment building to the parking garage is nearly half a mile.
The lump of anxiety that’s been curling in my stomach begins to warm into a heated ball of anger.
Had I known I'd be leaving Emily's today, had that asshole given me a choice, I would have done it when the sun was out. But no. I couldn’t possibly have a reasonable stalker, one with some sense of compassion.
So here I am, freezing my ass off, walking to my car in the dark.
My grip tightens on the straps of my bags until I hear the pleather crunching in my fist. That asshole knows where I live. He knows how to get into my house. He can find me anywhere I go. There's nowhere I can hide that he won't find me. How can I run from this?
Maybe I shouldn’t run at all. Maybe I should just wait for him and punch him in his stupid face.
A very undignified snort leaves my mouth as I recognize how terrible that idea is.
I’ve only seen him briefly through a window, but he looked huge.
I’m not a petite woman, but I’m certainly not a strong one, either. He’d probably kill me if I tried.
My train of thought is derailed suddenly when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.
Across the street, three men are walking in the opposite direction as me.
A tall man with wispy, blonde hair walks in the center of the two other men.
His hair falls over his face just above his eyes.
The arm draped over his shoulder belongs to the portly man next to him.
The hood of his dark jacket covers most of his face.
The third guy is short in comparison to the others, with long, black hair pulled back into a ponytail that reaches his lower back.
Blondie swivels his head in my direction and lets out a sharp whistle that stops his buddies in their tracks.
I quickly cast my eyes downward. My legs cramp, trying to halt my movement.
They want me to freeze like a deer in headlights.
A little voice in my mind cries, If I'm frozen in place, I'm safe. If I lock my mind away, I'm safe.
I shake my head, dispelling the voice and force my legs to keep walking. My shoes thunk against the pavement as my pace quickens. The men all turn toward me and my stomach clenches.
“Aw, don’t be like that, baby!” Long Hair yells.
“Yeah, we’re nice guys,” Beanie adds with a chortle.
I pull my phone from my back pocket and hold it out in front of me, pretending to be engrossed in something. Anything, really. I’m startled when it buzzes in my hand. Though this time, I’m not surprised when I see a text from an unknown number.
Just keep walking, little bird. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.
He’s protecting me? My stomach flutters in a way that I refuse to acknowledge. Betting on the knowledge that maybe he doesn’t want to hurt me and with my anger still simmering, I text back with a little more cheek than I have before.
Are you trying to tell me I have scary dog privileges? That you’re my scary dog?
The reply that pops up on my screen nearly stops me in my tracks.
Woof.
Momentarily forgetting my anxiety, I burst into laughter. Did he just make a joke? Does he actually have a sense of humor?
My fingers twitch, wanting to reply. Despite my better judgment, which seems to be failing me, I give into the urge.
I've always wanted a dog.
The moment I hit send, I regret it. Does he think I'm flirting with him? Am I? I will not let myself humanize him. I will not think of him as a man. He's a stalker and a murderer. He has no redeeming qualities.
I huff out a frustrated breath as I try to bring myself back to reality. He’s watching me. That in and of itself is terrifying. So why do I feel heat beneath my skin? Why is my stomach doing that fluttering thing? Why is a blush surely creeping up my neck and turning my face pink?
Clutching my phone to my chest, I begin to move at a hurried pace to avoid the leering men on the other side of the street.
I yank my coat tighter around me and pull the collar over my ears as a cold wind dances through the street.
It whips against buildings and whistles through alleys, drowning out the sound of…
actually, the catcalling stopped. Too afraid to turn around and see why, my feet move beneath me and my walk morphs into a jog.
By the time I reach the parking garage, my legs and lungs ache, but I send out a little thank you to the universe for getting me here safely.