Page 22 of The Price of Forever

“It’s after midnight and you’re alone.” He shook his head. “I’ll come with you.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve made this walk on my own?” I gestured at the open pavement behind me. At this hour, the pedestrians were few and far between. But I’d never had issues. Not really. “Life doesn’t become more dangerous just because you show up and say it is. I’ve been hacking it on my own for a while now. Besides, I have pepper spray and eight-inch heels. You know I’ve got this.”

Seven didn’t agree with me. I could feel it radiating off him in thick waves. But he didn’t stop me either. I took an exploratory step backward, then another.

“It’s been real,” I said, wanting to add more but not know what the fuck I should say. How did you sign off forever from an employee you never hired, never asked for, never wanted? This was becoming a ridiculous chapter in my life, and I was ready for it to end.

I finally turned and headed toward my apartment, walking as quickly as I could. Was it possible I’d grown to enjoy Seven’s company? Maybe I was that starved for human connection. I’d convinced myself that my girl squad at the club and my coffee squad at the shop were enough. That I was experiencing the necessary closeness without actually being close at all to anyone.

It doesn’t matter. It’s done.

As my fingers hit the front door of my building, someone slunk out of the shadows and grabbed my wrist.

A mess of red hair; intense blue eyes. Panic hit like a sonic boom.

“Dustin,” I forced out, struggling to free my hand. He wouldn’t let go, just tightened his grip. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Jordan. You have no idea how much we have to talk about.” His words came out disjointed. Everything about his energy sent me into flight mode. He brought me closer, grabbing my leather jacket with his other hand. “I watched you perform, and you were so good. You were an angel up there. I just need you to know how much this means to me. You being my friend. Being so nice to me. Being so sexy all the time.”

“Dustin, let go.”

“It’s time to get serious about what we have between us. We’re the same person. We have so much in common. You’re the most beautiful angel I’ve ever met and we need—”

“Dustin!” I threw my elbows, struggling to get out of his grip as he pulled me into him for a kiss. He reeked of alcohol and body odor. Eyes watering, I turned my head away just in time for his lips to graze my upper cheek.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

“Fuck no!”

His brows furrowed, like he didn’t compute. “Why would you say that to me?”

“I want to go home and go to sleep.”

“You’re being a fucking bitch.” His voice came out hard. He let go of my jacket long enough to pull the door open and tug me toward the threshold. “We’re gonna go work this out right now.”

I struggled against him as he tried to drag me inside. I knew, in the back of my mind, that I needed to scream. To cry for help. But I was paralyzed with indecision about how to get out of the situation. My pepper spray was inside my bag. My heels—my main weapon—inside my bag. And he had such an iron grip on me, I had no hope of retrieving either of them.

My fight or flight mode had abandoned me. I was just stuck in struggle and silence.

Seven was right.

CHAPTER SIX

SEVEN

I heard the scream when I was a block away.

I wasn’t a fucking idiot. I didn’t plan on leaving the area until I had a visual on her, safe inside the apartment. But I humored her need for the illusion of aloneness. So I waited until she was a half block away before tailing her.

My footsteps hit the pavement in marathon strides as I hauled ass to her front door. Under the streetlamps right outside her building, nothing looked amiss. But once I got closer to the shadows under that front overhang, I saw him. An unidentified assailant, gripping the front door, and Jordan resisting his attempts to push her inside.

All that registered with me about his appearance was the shock of red hair on his head. Once my hands connected with his shoulders, the cold neutrality of the job slid over me. I knew how to handle these situations. With precision. With force. I had this fucker slammed against the brick wall in less than ten seconds. He shivered like a kitten, bewilderment in his eyes.

“Hands off,” I growled.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I guess you can decide that for yourself.” When he struggled to get away, I punched him across the face. There were no cameras here. No evidence. My knuckles smarted, wanting more, as blood trickled from his nose. “A teacher? A warning? A nightmare? You pick.”

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