Chapter 19
MADISON
Grocery shopping when I actually have money is a very different experience from what it was before. I still look at the prices of things and try to find “the deal,” but I don’t need to worry about that anymore.
I still buy the deals.
I get fresh fruits and greens to make smoothies, which reminds me of yesterday morning with sulky Seth. He’s so antagonistic. It’s like he blamed me for ruining his quiet weekend, when I’d had zero idea he would even be there.
But then at night? He had no problem watching me get myself off. And I heard that groan of satisfaction when he came.
Damiano called in the morning as promised, and he whispered filthy things to me until I was coming again on my own hand, his deep voice filling my ears. Then he apologized for not being able to drive me home.
“It’s fine,” I’d said. “I understand.”
Although I don’t, not entirely. He had time for these elaborately sexy phone calls, but he’s still dealing with an emergency?
This morning’s ride back to San Esteban was quiet and tense.
Seth didn’t speak much. He asked overly formal questions about whether or not the air conditioner was on too high, or whether I needed to stop at a rest area.
Otherwise, nothing. He didn’t bring up last night’s hot tub activities, so I didn’t either.
When I leave the grocery store, I’m surprised that the sun has dipped below the horizon. Was I really wandering around in there for an hour? I guess I was distracted by my thoughts of Seth and Damiano.
I put the groceries in my car and start home. A new episode of Night Walkers dropped today. I’ll eat some bread and cheese, drink some wine, and enjoy.
All by myself.
The way loneliness grabs me by the throat is swift and fierce.
Shit. I resigned myself to not having real friends a long time ago.
But every now and then, I think about what it would be like to watch Night Walkers with an intimate group of friends, all of us laughing at bad special effects or complaining about the hero’s savior complex or the way the love interest is taking him back yet again, after he already betrayed her twice.
Instead, I’ll be muttering into my glass of wine, “Must be some Grade A dick to go back to him again.” And nobody will laugh with me.
Would I be less lonely with roommates? Should I ask Felix and Hugo over? As soon as I ask myself the question, I know the answer is a big fat no. I’d never get them to leave.
I wonder what my fundamental flaw is. Why can’t I find or keep friends?
When I turn left off of Caro going toward Old Thirty-Three, I notice another car turn after me. Which is fine, lots of cars are probably going this direction.
But a paranoid little whisper has me making an extra turn. Just in case.
The car behind me makes the same turn.
Coincidence. Right?
I take a meandering route home, even doubling back at one point.
The other car falls back farther behind me, but I can still see those headlights, taunting me.
My heart speeds up and my hands get cold.
I grip the steering wheel like it’s a lifeline, like if I hold it tightly enough, the other car will poof out of existence.
It doesn’t. Not until I turn onto my street. There, it doesn’t follow.
I drive extra slowly, because if they’re stalking me, I don’t want them to see my house. I even drive past my place, then turn around and drive the opposite direction. I don’t see anyone or anything suspicious, so I turn around once more and stop at my driveway.
My hands shake as I lower my window to punch in the gate code. What if someone jumps out at me from the shadows?
The code goes through and the gate swings open.
I roll my window up immediately and start driving.
No one sneaks past the gate after me, which is a relief. As soon as it shuts behind me, I speed down the drive. Should I call someone? The police? They’ll think I’m paranoid. Probably because I am paranoid. Although after an attempted burglary only last week, paranoia is understandable, isn’t it?
No police. I know exactly who to call.
I pick up my phone and dial Damiano.
He doesn’t answer. He’s probably still busy with his emergency.
Seth works with him, though. I dial Seth next.
He answers immediately. “Madison?”
“Yeah. Sorry to bug you, it’s just that there was this car following me, and I got freaked out, and I tried to call Damiano but he didn’t answer. It’s just…I don’t think the police will care about this at all. But I wanted to tell someone, so…”
“Is the car still there?”
“No, it disappeared when I turned onto my street. I’m not convinced it’s gone, though.”
“Hang on.”
His end of the call goes silent. I pull in a deep breath.
I already feel a hundred times better, just from hearing Seth’s voice.
His no-nonsense tone says he’ll get to the bottom of whatever thing is bothering me.
Kyle was like that, too. Ready to solve any problem or issue.
He wasn’t as controlled and commanding as Seth, but maybe he would’ve grown into that.
It breaks my heart that I’ll never know Kyle as a fully mature adult man.
Seth comes back on the line. “Those were our guys, Madison. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I—what?” My relief is mixed with confusion. “They’re your guys? Following me?”
“Yes. Damiano put a security detail on you—”
“No. Fuck no. I did not consent to that. In fact, he told me he was done having me followed. This is such an invasion of my privacy. Call them off, Seth.”
He sighs. “Look, I can do that, Madison, but after last week, are you sure—”
“Yes, I’m sure.” I’m so mad, I could hit something. Instead I channel my anger into unloading my groceries. “Tell them to go home. I don’t need them or want them here.”
To think I was scared shitless about someone following me—for no freaking good reason. It’s Damiano’s fault that I was hyperventilating on the way home.
“Okay.” Seth sounds resigned. “I’ve texted them. It’s done. They’re leaving now.”
“Thank you.” My voice is icy, which isn’t fair—Seth isn’t the one who called those guys to watch me.
We say a quick goodbye and I finish putting away groceries. Next, I call Damiano. He still doesn’t answer, so I leave a message. “I can’t believe you kept a security detail on me after we talked about it and you said you wouldn’t. Don’t call me for a while, Damiano. I need some space.”
I toss my phone on the counter and exhale slowly. This was supposed to be a chill, relaxing evening, albeit a lonely one. Cheese, bread, wine, and a zombie show. What more could a single, friendless girl ask for?
Well, it isn’t too late for my relaxing evening.
I’ve just assembled all of my goodies and gotten myself under my softest blanket when my phone rings.
It’s Damiano.
I glare at the screen, letting it ring. Jerk face. Fuck him and his overbearing ways. There was a burglary, and I’ll admit, I was a little freaked out afterward. But that’s why I had an alarm system installed before I went to Mirarosa, and—that reminds me. I should set the alarm.
My phone stops ringing, then immediately begins again.
I stick my tongue out at it and get up to set the house alarm.
* * *
DAMIANO
I fucked up. Madison requests space, but if I give it to her, it puts her at risk.
If I don’t give it to her, she is angry. Understandably, I suppose.
“Please call me back, Madison,” I say into the phone. “I am uneasy about you being without protection.”
I set my phone on the couch next to me and wait. I want to try calling a third time, a fourth time. This is the opposite of giving her space. But shouldn’t safety win out over comfort and privacy? I believe it should. I have seen what happens when safety falls behind other concerns.
She doesn’t return my call. I text her, because maybe she’ll at least see my message, even if she’s refusing to talk to me.
Please. I believe you are in danger. If Nove cannot protect you, call Ironwood.
I expect her to shoot back questions about why I think she’s in danger. The truth is, I don’t know. It’s a feeling, I suppose. Or perhaps I have come to care for her so much, I refuse to take any risks with her safety.
Fine.
That’s all she sends back.
I frown at my phone. Fine? It’s better than nothing, but all the same, I would appreciate more of a dialogue.
You will call them tonight? I write.
Yes.
Please let me know when you’ve done it.
Space, Damiano.
I wait for a clarifying message, before realizing that is the clarification. She is through with her communications, and now I must be patient.
I am not a patient person.
* * *
MADISON
I’m surprised to get through to Ironwood. It’s almost nine o’clock at night. I would’ve expected their offices to be closed. And yet a friendly receptionist named Marlon takes down my information.
“I’m afraid we won’t be able to have a team start until Tuesday,” Marlon says. “Our extras are on a temporary detail. How long do you expect to require security services?”
“I wish I knew.” I sigh. “Maybe a few days? Just to calm down a few worries. It probably isn’t necessary at all, but I promised my friend I would set this up.”
“Well, since we can’t get someone out there tonight, I could recommend Nove International Operations. They usually contract overseas work, but if they have spare bodyguards—”
“Thank you, I’m familiar with Nove.” I laugh to myself. “Tuesday will be fine.”
Marlon pauses. “It appears we already have you in our system. Did you recently set up an in-home security system with us?”
“I did.”
“Okay, great. I’ll add this request to your account.”
I authorize a deposit for security guards, wincing at the cost. Maybe I should’ve accepted Damiano’s protection, since it was free.
No, I can afford this. And it doesn’t come with a side helping of Damiano’s lies.
Marlon and I make arrangements for my first security detail to meet me bright and early on Tuesday morning.
There, Damiano. I hope you’re happy.
Finally, freaking finally, I sit down on the couch with my snacks.
My laptop is open, a new episode of Night Walkers on the screen.
For once, the love interest is not eager to take the hero back.
Apparently his careless move at an abandoned pharmacy nearly got her bitten by an infected, and she has had enough.
“Good,” I say to my laptop. “Fuck him and his overbearing, thoughtless, egocentric antics.”
A scratching sound comes from one of my windows.
I pull my blanket tighter around my shoulders, fighting goosebumps.
When a zombie leaps in front of the hero on-screen, I let out an audible yelp of fear.
Then I laugh at myself. It’s just a silly show.
Jump-scares are cheap tactics, but no denying they’re effective.
A glance at my phone shows a text came in a few minutes ago, this time from Seth. Checking in. Is everything okay?
Why does he care? I’m so over these guys.
I pause the show and collect my dishes to bring into the kitchen. All of a sudden, the back yard is illuminated in bright, white-blue light. The motion-activated security lights are on.
I freeze. How visible am I in the kitchen? The lights are low, but if someone is outside, they could see me clearly through the kitchen window.
I want to love this house that my aunt loved, but I’m feeling too exposed.
Although I’d rather not look, I peer out the window. Something leaps into the privacy hedge dividing my property from next door. Something four-legged, I think, but large. A deer, or a really big dog.
I set my dishes in the sink and grip the edge of the counter, searching for strength. I can’t take any more frights tonight. Between the Nove guys following me, the jump-scare in Night Walkers, and now this, I’ll call it a night.
A quick look at my alarm keypad shows that everything is engaged. If any burglars try to break in, I’ll know, and so will the police. This is as safe as I’ll get.
I close my laptop. Night Walkers can wait until the reassuring light of morning.
Upstairs, I pat one of the bedposts. So much character in this old house. And Great-Aunt Vivienne left it to me. I can’t help but feel she knew I would appreciate this place. And I do; I just need to adjust to the size, and the great wide openness of it all.
The covers are soft against my skin, my pillow perfect. I close my eyes and wait for sleep.
But sleep doesn’t come. My heart’s still pounding from when the security lights went on. Anyone could be out there, like a man-eating zombie deer. I open my eyes to look around the room. I need to make sure the shadows aren’t moving.
You’re being ridiculous, Madison. Go to sleep.
Just as I close my eyes again, a deafening blare fills the house. I jolt into a sitting position, clutching my blankets and trying to cover my ears at the same time.
The alarm. Something—or someone—set off the alarm.