Page 78 of Left in the Dark

Her eyes are wide with terror as she takes another step back. “I’m calling the police. You better get the fuck out of here, whoever you are.”

Oh, please do, minx.

I’ve already rigged her phone so that any emergency calls are routed to a particular number that Ryker’s team answers, twenty-four-seven. As soon as her number pops up, they have a script to follow.

No officer will arrive here. I’ve made sure of it.

Should they get nosy and come around, I’ll take care of them. It’s why I have a silencer on my gun.

I’m the only police you need, minx. The only one powerful and intelligent enough to protect you.

Because I’m a prick, I wave at her before moving away, disappearing into the woods, waiting for the right moment.

CHAPTER 51

Delaney

Istood frozen, trembling in fear. We silently stare at one another through the glass.

My voice trembled as I threatened to call the police. He seemed unbothered by the threat, especially when the asshole lifted his hand and waved.

He waved at me. What the fuck?

Then he disappeared into the darkness.

I’m clutching my cell phone, squeezing so tightly it hurts. I look down at it, and my brain resumes functioning.

Pulling up the app, I view the camera footage but find nothing.

What the hell?How did he get to my window without being detected?Where the hell did he go?

Lifting my head from my phone, I stare at the window. My heart beats faster as I drift toward the window as though I’m in a dream.

Sucking in a breath for courage, I exhale and press my face against it, looking out the window just as I did the first time I saw him.

He’s not there.

My frantic eyes scan the yard, unsure if I should be relieved or terrified.

Maybe my threat did scare him, and he left when I said I would call the cops.

Or he’s lurking outside, waiting.

Stepping back, I study the cameras, showing all angles, including the ones pointing toward the woods. It’s like he’s a damn ghost, somehow evading detection.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I slip my feet into a pair of sneakers. My eyes dart around, and I spot the block of knives on the counter.

Grabbing one, I creep to the front door. Sucking in a breath, on the exhale, I pull it open and poke my head outside, my eyes rapidly scanning the area. My heart beats like a drum inside my chest as I step onto the porch, even as my mind tells me this is a bad idea. I’m acting like one of those idiots in a horror movie, stepping outside in the darkness to search for a masked maniac.

At least I left the door open behind me in case he pops up again, and I need to rush back inside.

The cool September air washes over my skin, and I grip the knife tighter in one hand while clutching my phone in a death grip in the other. Goosebumps cover every inch of my skin, a product of the cool night and the fear lodged deep inside my spine.

I jump as a bush shakes at the far end of the porch.

Like a damn fool, I slowly creep along the porch. The hand holding the knife shakes as I lift it, ready to stab anyone who pops out from behind that bush.

You’ve got this. Remember your training.

---