Page 4 of Little Rabbit

Just before I turn away, I see him. Reflected in the glass and standing on the other side of the street, eating what looks to be a taco. To anyone else, he would look like a normal business person wearing a pair of dark slacks and a white dress shirt, but that face and hair are unmistakable, and I instantly recognize him as the man following me. A shiver of unease slides through me, but I ignore it. Instead, I turn away from the window, and keep moving.

I catch glimpses of him in the window’s reflections, keeping pace with me as he continues to eat. Again, he’s the picture of a man who’s just left the office for something to eat and a casual stroll, but every alarm bell in my head is going off. He’s subtly watching me. What does he want?

I take the long way home, even stepping into a shop or two and buying a couple of things to see if he’ll stick around. Unsurprisingly, he does, even emerging from a couple shops on his side of the street with a few purchases of his own. My curiosity is getting the better of me, and it’s taking all my self-control not to go across the street and ask him what the hell he’s doing. Instead, I go to my apartment, locking the door behind me before heading to the window to peer out. I look down and see him walking along, not even looking back or up. Maybe he’s decided to give up.

I put away the things I bought, and when I go back to the window, I nearly laugh out loud when I see the SUV from earlier parked just down the street from my building, clearly visible from my vantage point. This guy is not a great stalker. But I suppose if it’s someone trying to find anything about me or the business, or worse, paparazzi, that would make sense. My parents and I aren’t well known on the world stage, but every so often, people get curious on a slow news day and show up to ask questions.

Deciding to put him out of my mind, I get to work and spend the next couple hours catching up on a few smaller tasks that don’t take long. When I finally stand back up, stretching my arms over my head to relieve the tension in my back and neck, I head for the window again, curious to see if he gave up.

Much to my surprise, he’s still there. I frown. Normally paparazzi don’t stick around this long for someone like me. Someone famous, sure, but definitely not me. Maybe it’s a competitor spying on me. But what could they want? We’re damn careful about the information we release, and all of our work is stored on secured servers. It would take an expert hacker to get through all our firewalls.

I step back from the window and tell myself if they want to sit out there for hours for nothing, that’s on them. I’m going back to work.

By the time it’s dark out, my eyes are burning from staring at the screen for so long, but I got a healthy chunk of my workload done, and that means I can relax the rest of the night. I head for the fridge, but then stop and go back to the window. I let out a sigh of annoyance when I see the SUV hasn’t moved. Still in the same place, still sitting and waiting. What the fuck is up with that?

Fuck it, I want to know what the hell they’re doing. It’s not smart, but my father always says that when you want to know something, do whatever you have to to figure it out. Granted, I doubt he meant confronting a stalker, but whatever. Returning to my bedroom, I strip down and pull on black yoga pants and a black hoodie, tucking my hair inside the hood so that it can’t be spotted, and finally a pair of black sneakers I picked up on sale the other day. Who knew they would come in handy so soon? I also grab a pen and a small notebook just in case I need to write down the license plate number.

One thing I love about my apartment is its secret exit. Few know it exists. It’s an old building, and at one point belonged to a man who apparently had a thing for hiding all kinds of shit. Every apartment has one or two secret doors and nooks. I picked the only apartment that has an actual hidden exit. I go into the kitchen and enter the tiny pantry that isn’t any bigger than a closet, and lift the latch at the back of the farthest shelf. It swings open silently—thanks to me oiling the hinges—and I walk out onto a little private balcony. On the edge of the balcony is a ladder that leads to the ground, stopping a few short feet above, so I can just drop down onto my feet.

The alleyway between this building and the next is narrow so cars can’t drive through. It’s also handy that there are no windows on either side of the alleyway. Anyone who cared to look would only see a random fire escape and balcony, which means I can get behind the SUV that is currently watching my apartment without them noticing me, if I’m careful. It’s dark enough, and the lamp for the street is ahead of the SUV, which means I should be able to do it without casting a shadow.

I ease out of the alley, staying close to the building, waiting until I can see the side mirror on the passenger side. The man I saw earlier is on that side, which means he’s not alone. Interesting. They also have the windows down, and they’re speaking in Italian so I can’t make out most of what they’re saying. I know enough to ask directions or how to get to the bathroom, but that’s about it. Why the hell are two Italian men stalking me? The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but I ignore them. Instead, I carefully creep across the sidewalk behind the SUV. I duck down, making sure they can’t see me, and then quickly jot down the license plate number.

I freeze when I hear my name, worried they’ve caught me. But no one gets out, and they continue talking. I stay still, listening, but I can’t figure out what the hell they’re saying.

Maybe it’s because I’ve lost my mind, but I flip the page in my notebook and write a note, and then carefully slip it under the rear windshield wiper before I slip away and back down the alley. Now to wait and see how long it takes them to notice it. I jump and grab the bottom rung of the fire escape and haul myself up. I’ve never been so glad for all those lessons growing up, and the fact that I’ve kept myself in shape.

I scale back up the ladder and onto the balcony. I put my hand on the brick wall, finding the hidden latch, and then let myself back in without a sound, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. Then I head for the window. Unsurprisingly, it takes them a few minutes, but then the driver’s side door opens and out climbs a giant of a man. Holy shit, he’s huge. He towers over the SUV, which means he has to be a few inches over six feet. He makes his way around the back of the SUV with a dark scowl on his face.

I watch him read my note. It only takes a moment, and then he moves around the SUV to the passenger side and passes it through the window. It takes another moment, but then the large man steps back, and out climbs the other man. He immediately tilts his head back to look up, and our gazes catch. That’s all it takes for me to know, right down to my bones, this man is dangerous.

And I’ve just invited him up to my apartment. I have clearly lost my mind.

3

ALESSIO

I should probably be insulted that this woman has informed me—and by a note, no less—that my stalking skills need some work, but I can’t shake my amusement. The woman really thinks we haven’t figured out she was onto us? Or noticed she snuck behind our SUV from the alleyway? We notice everything, but I wanted to see what she would do. If she would say anything. Lazaro voted we just grab her and take her, but something cautioned me.

And now I’m glad we did, because I’m far more intrigued than I was earlier today. I look up at the window I know is hers, and I see her standing there, looking down at me with a cool and calm expression. What kind of woman isn’t frightened of a man following her around all day? Apparently this one. Anticipation fills me as I head for the main door, finding it unlocked and open for us.

“What’s the plan?” Lazaro asks me quietly in Italian.

I smirk. “I think we see what Ms. Harris has to say, and then leave it to me. The De Luca men either haven’t found her or haven’t caught up to us, so we have some time, but we don’t want to waste it.” Lazaro nods, and then we step into the elevator and head up to Sienna’s floor.

Standing in front of her door moments later, I give a swift knock and then wait patiently. I hear movement inside, and when the door opens, I get my first full look at Sienna Harris. The punch to the gut I feel almost has me breaking, hauling her to me and carrying her out of here – a sure-fire way to draw unwanted attention. All the things about her I noted before are the same, but somehow, being so close to her, actually smelling the sweet scent of her lotion, is like flipping a switch.

Is this how Nico felt when he laid eyes on Gia? Because this woman is about to be mine. She doesn’t know it yet, but she will be.

“Ms. Harris,” I say, letting a charming smile pull at my lips.

“Stalker,” she replies calmly. Lazaro lets out a soft chuckle, but I don’t even glance at him. The woman in front of me is far more interesting. She steps back into her apartment, leaving the door open, but never giving us her back. Smart. I follow her inside, each of my steps that of a wolf stalking its prey. Our eyes hold, never leaving the other, even when Lazaro steps in behind me, shutting the door. Everyone stops moving, and the room seems to hold its breath.

The apartment is silent as no one moves or talks. I stare at the woman in front of me who is turning out to be something I never expected. Interesting. Intriguing. Resourceful. And mistakenly brave, letting the two of us in this apartment with her. Still, I can admire her for it.

Finally, Sienna breaks the silence. “First things first, I have cameras covering every angle of this place, so if you’re thinking to murder me, you’ll want to reconsider. If law enforcement can’t get you, my best friend will hunt you down like dogs. So, how about we start with who you are and why you’ve been following me around the last two days.”

“Your mistake, cara mia,” I tell her easily, leaning casually against the kitchen island, “is thinking that cameras would deter me. But don’t worry, I’m not here to kill you. As for your friend, well, Ms. O’Brien can be easily convinced of your wellbeing, I’m sure.”

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