Page 78 of Locke

She kept giving me this sweet smile I wanted to rip off her face. “Of course, Kali, I’ll let him know.”

I tapped my finger on the counter. “Like now?”

“Now.”

“So, you’ll give him a call?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

Instead of sitting down next to people who were judging me, I crossed my arms and stared at her intently as she picked up the phone and made a call. Her smile was gone as she waited through the rings. I could hear them from here, so I edged a little closer, listening intently.

And there I was—a nutcase with black bags under her eyes, zero make-up, a baggy shirt with a faded Disney princess on it, leggings I spilled hot coffee on this morning when I got side-tracked thinking about that man being in the bedroom with me last night.

I understood how it looked, the lunacy bleeding out of my desperate eyes as I clasped my hands together anxiously. He needed to know I was here. He needed to come. I needed him to leave me alone because I couldn’t stop thinking about this fucked-up man, and now I was losing it.

I needed my sanity back.

My spine tingled and I turned my head, my gaze sweeping through the waiting room. There were a couple men I hadn’t noticed before—big men in suits—standing around, staring at me. When I looked back at Kennedy, her eyes were on them too, like she was speaking to them with a single look.

Ah. Locke’s men, perhaps.

He had eyes and ears everywhere, wasn’t that what everyone said?

My face felt clammy. Oh, shit, what if I overstepped the boundaries now? What if he took this as a huge slight?

I took a step back, feeling like this was suddenly a very stupid, impulsive idea.

“No answer,” she told me then, looking back at me without a single shred of that niceness from before. “Do you want to leave your name and number and I’ll let him know you’ve been—”

“Don’t bother,” I interrupted, flatly. “He knows I’m here already.”

I stepped out and stood there in the middle of the sidewalk for a few moments, taking in deep breaths. I had just made an absolute nutter of myself to everyone in that firm.

As if to make matters worse, the black car was back and parked right in front of the firm. I stared at it in disbelief, my being frozen still for a solid moment before anger rushed through me. That secretary had tried to call him—and here he was, right out front, probably laughing at my display of lunacy.

Sidestepping a grungy dude in jogging pants and a grey sweater, I crossed the sidewalk in four steps and pounded on the driver’s side window. “Open up!” I growled, uncaring how many heads were turning my way as they passed by. Immediately, people began to walk around me, some pausing as I continued to knock on this window without stopping. “I know you’re in there, Locke! Open up! Now—”

The window rolled down instantly, and an angry old man looked back at me. “What the hell do you want, Miss?”

I stepped back in surprise, my anger quickly replaced by remorse. “Oh, my God, I am so sorry! I thought you were someone else—”

“Get away from my fucking car.”

I took another step back, nearly tripping when I bumped into that grungy dude in the jogging pants. Face flaming with embarrassment, I told the angry driver, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t fucking pound on my window again—”

I quickly turned around and raced down the sidewalk. I avoided everyone’s eye as I ducked my head and counted my steps. I groaned inwardly, instantly feeling like maybe I really was losing it. Doubt crept in when I thought of how many times I’d seen a black Mercedes and assumed it was Locke following me.

How fucking paranoid and crazy did I sound now?

Yet still—STILL—I looked over my shoulder, scanning the streets for him.

Twenty-Five

Kali

Ryan was taken aback when he opened the door on me. I wasn’t sure why. Dude had that doorbell camera that sang a tune when you rang it. He could have judged me silently the entire way to the door and pretended I didn’t look like a sad charity case at his doorstep.

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