Page 1 of Protected By the Ranger

Chapter 1

I juggle the grocery bags and purse, my heels clacking loudly in the dimly lit hallway of my apartment building. The flickering lights add a touch of eeriness to the usual gloom of the fourth floor. I make a mental note to mention the broken lights to the super again.

My phone rings, cutting through the silence, and I smile when I see Sam’s name. Before I can speak, her voice bursts through the speaker. “So? So? So?”

I laugh at her enthusiasm, shifting the bags in my hands. “The meeting was a breeze, Sammy. They’re thrilled with the mock-ups, especially for the new fantasy series.”

“I knew they would. That’s not my question,” she retorts. Chuckling to myself, I say the words that would make her day. The contract is mine! I’ll be illustrating the limited edition covers and the map for the entire series!”

Sam’s squeal of delight makes me laugh. “I knew it!” she exclaims. “You’ve put in so many late nights on this project. It’s your time to shine!” Her faith in me makes my throat tighten. I miss her like a phantom limb. A small part of me resents Greg for whisking her away to Toronto.

“I’m hopeful, finally,” I say with a sigh. Lord knows it has been a tough couple of months trying to figure out corners to cut.

“See, like I always say, sometimes you need to take that leap of faith instead of playing it safe.” She reiterates the words she’s been telling me since we were in pigtails. I can almost always see them coming now.

“I think—” My words falter as my gaze shifts to the white envelope lying on my pink welcome mat.

“That’s strange,” I mutter. A chill runs through me, turning my palms cold. I scan the dark hallway, searching for a reason behind the sudden sense of dread.

“What is?” Sam’s voice crackles through the phone.

“There is an envelope on my doorstep.” I reply, crouching to pick it up.

“So?”

“Why is it left here instead of in the mailbox?” I wonder aloud. Maybe it was full.

“Who sent it?” Sam asks.

I flip the envelope over, examining it from every angle. There are no stamps, no return address.

“It’s blank,” I say, my voice tinged with unease.

“We won’t know until you open it. Do it—I’m curious now.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands. Sliding a finger under the flap, I tear the envelope open. A sweet, floral scent wafts out before crimson rose petals spill onto the doormat. My heart skips as memories of roses on my windshield flash through my mind.

I can faintly hear Sam ask me something, but I’m too frozen to respond. I focus on the note in my hand. “It’s time we meet, don’t you think?” it reads. My mind races as I recognize the photos that follow, all from this past week.

The first is of me and Grace at the Neo Publishers Convention from two days ago. The next shows me leaving the yoga studio, mat in hand. The close-up shots of my slightly uncovered cleavage and my ass clad in tights make me gulp in fear. I feel violated.

The final picture makes me gasp. I know exactly where it was taken. The realization that someone was there with me sends a cold wave of terror through me.

Panic grips me tightly, my throat constricting as I confess what’s been gnawing at me for days. “Sam, someone has been stalking me.”

I look around the hallway, half-expecting someone to leap from the shadows. My heart pounds as I fumble with my keys. The key slips from my grasp, jangling loudly against the floor.

“What the fuck? What do you mean?” All humor is gone from Sam’s voice.

“There are pictures of me in the envelope, taken all over the city,” I sob, my voice breaking. I bend to pick up the keys, but Sam’s urgent whisper halts me. “Wait! The envelope might be a trap.”

“Sam…” I whisper, fear engulfing all my senses, making black spots dance before my eyes.

Her words slice through the terror, echoing in my ears. “You said the envelope is blank, which means someone must have hand-delivered it. What if that person is inside your apartment?”

As the implication sinks in, I start inching away from the door, my mind racing. My sweat-soaked satin blouse clings to me, heavy with dread. I need to stay calm. Taking a deep breath, I ball my trembling fingers into a fist.

Heart pounding in my chest, I kick off my heels because I know I can’t run far in them. Shoving the envelope into my purse, I hold the phone close to my mouth and whisper, “I am getting out of here.” I disconnect the call, my pulse racing as I move silently towards the stairs.

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