Page 1 of Stalked By the Navy Seal

Chapter One

Riley

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” My stepfather, drunk as a skunk, asks, waving around the black leather belt, which has inflicted unthinkable pain on me many times.

In an ideal world, I would roll my eyes and ask him if he doesn’t see me dressed in the cream-colored long-sleeved shirt and black pants, which have been my uniform since I started working at Misty River Inn as a room service attendant.

But this wasn’t an ideal world, so I scramble to give him an answer. “I’m headed to the motel, I have the morning shift today.”

He walks closer, and I instinctively step back, ready to cover my face with my hands in case he decides to get physical. “I don’t care if you have the midnight shift; you’re not going anywhere.”

His breath reeks of alcohol, and I struggle not to turn away from him. “But I need to work so we can eat, and I can buy that chocolate vodka you like so much. I noticed the bottle lying empty earlier.”

He smiles sinisterly, letting me know that whatever is coming next is not good. “You don’t have to worry about all that anymore, Princess…” Hearing him call me princess makes my skin crawl. “You’ll be well taken care of where you’re going, so I doubt you’ll ever need to work again.”

“What do you mean? Where am I going?”

“I finally figured out a way to make you useful and get rid of you permanently. A win-win for me.” My heart is pounding so hard that I expect it to pop out of my chest any minute now. “Ihave offered you to Deadeye Dante as payment for all the debt I owe him.”

My body turns ice cold, and it takes me a few minutes to fully process what he just said. “No, you can’t do that.”

He steps closer, and I will myself to step back but it feels like my feet are rooted to the ground. “I already have, and when Dante gets here in four days, you’re going to leave with him and do everything he says. Do you understand me?”

I know I can’t antagonize the red-eyed man standing in front of me, not when he’s this drunk and brandishing his favorite instrument of torture. I just need to find a way to get him to let me leave this house in one piece.

“I understand completely, but he’s coming in four days, and till then, we need to eat, and you need your vodka, so allow me to go to work until he gets here,” I say, my voice almost a plea.

He grabs my face so hard that his fingers dig into my skin. “If you try anything stupid, and I mean anything, I’ll hunt you down and kill you with my bare hands. Got it?”

I nod frantically, and he stares at me for a few more menacing seconds before letting go of my face. Turning around, I grab the doorknob and run for my life.

As I walk the ten-minute distance from my house to the Misty River Inn, my brain goes a hundred miles per second trying to figure out how to escape this new nightmare that my life is about to become.

Staying with my stepfather all these years has been a living hell. Still, it will be paradise compared to what will happen to me If I fall into the hands of that vicious loan shark, Deadeye Dante.

I need to run and keep running ‘til I’m as far from Misty River as I can get.

But first, I need some money. I certainly cannot go back to that lion’s den I’ve called home since I was ten years old to collect the meager savings I’ve managed to scrape together from doing odd jobs over the years.

I can’t go back there because I can’t risk getting caught by my stepfather, so I’ll just have to figure out another way. I have no idea where to begin, but something’s gotta give.

When I finally get to the Misty River Inn, Kevin, the manager who has been making working here for the past couple of months difficult because I turned down his advances, stops me on my way to the staging area.

He looks down at his leather-bound wristwatch and up at me. “You’re three minutes late.”

“I know, and I’m really sorry. I had a little family emergency, but it’s all sorted now.”

“I didn’t hire you to make excuses, so the next time you’re even a second later than you should be, don’t even bother coming in. There are many people who I’m sure will be more than happy to take your place if you’re not ready to start taking this job more seriously.”

Looking away from him and down at my black loafers, I mumble something along the lines of, “It won’t happen again,” before continuing down the hallway.

“It better not,” I hear Kevin say as I push open the door to the staging area.

“Grab the cart; multiple orders coming up,” Maggie, the full-figured chef who mostly works the morning shifts, says, and I grab one of the room service carts parked in the corner.

“What do we have?”

She hands me two trays. “This is for the couple in 103, and this is for the guest in 107.” I put the trays on the cart and she hands me two more. “This is for room 105, and this last plate is for the guest in 109.”

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