Page 27 of Beneath the Watching

Up to twenty thousand dollars, anyway. I shook my head trying to clear the intrusive thoughts.

I heard rather than saw a car rush up to the curb and I took several steps back, while typing “Chanel” into the search box. The website was doing its thing, searching for the nearest store when I heard footsteps and raised my eyes.

Stefan took a couple quick steps toward me and seized my arm. When I pulled back, my cellphone clattered onto the sidewalk.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I attempted to reach for my phone and failed. “You’re going to break my arm one of these days.” His mouth and eyes were pinched in fury, and an almost visible black cloud seemed to surround him.

I pushed back at him, and he used it to his advantage, grabbing my other arm. “Stefan, let go of me,” I complained, trying to break free.

If he’d wanted to see me, all he had to do was ask. The anger etching his face told me this wasn’t a friendly visit. I had no idea what I could’ve done that necessitated whateverthiswas. After all, I’d stayed away from him and the casino as he’d demanded.

“Get in the car,” he ordered. He tugged my arms behind my back and pushed me, forcing me to walk to the same black car he’d dropped me off at home with before.

He opened the back door, keeping one hand around both of my wrists. When he tried bundling me in through the opening, I braced my foot against the lower edge of the vehicle. “Stop it. What are you doing?” My voice was raised, and I started to panic, twisting around so I could see him.

It was the last thing I should’ve done because I lost my leverage and he easily pushed me inside, slamming the door behind me. He strode around to the driver’s side while I tried to get out, but both rear doors were locked. By the time I began clambering up front, he got in, sat, and shoved me down.

Stunned, I leaned against the seat and started looking for my phone. I had forgotten I’d dropped it until the entire contents of my purse were spread around me.

8

MABEL

Stefan droveus to an apartment building not far from where he’d snatched me off the sidewalk. Neither of us had said a single word along the way. Stefan seemed deep in thought, barely paying attention to anything, cutting people off and running red lights, and yet driving at close to normal speeds. It seemed he’d expected people to get out of his way and they appeared to do precisely that without any thought or sudden braking.

After we entered an underground parking garage, he got out and opened my door. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, revealing dual gun holsters I’d never noticed him wearing before. Stefan’s hand was on my shoulder to guide me, and I stiffened under his touch. Was he going to shoot me?

My steps faltered as he led me towards an elevator. My eyes squeezed shut for a moment.He wants to get rid of me and he will. Just like he said.

My heart began pounding in my chest at the absurdity of my situation. No one had ever really wanted me around, no one had ever really cared how I felt about anything and here was this guy, and he was about to shoot me and solve everyone’s problem.

The door opened with a chiming sound and the palm pressed against my back signaled I should move forward. I did; and watched my freedom close away right before my eyes.

A million thoughts began running through my head.

Madison is sleeping with my boyfriend.

My foster parents used me for a paycheck.

Al looked like a savior, taking me in out of pity.

I never got to start a bread baking business.

Would people buy green bread?

This man hates me so much he’s going to shoot me in the head.

Twice.

The rush of unwanted thoughts washed over me, dampening my forehead, and forcing a trickle of moisture down my back. Oxygen was fleeing my lungs, and I couldn’t catch my breath, black spots appearing before my eyes. Stefan said something, but I couldn’t hear him over the roar of blood in my ears.

An arm curled around me and pulled me back as my knees buckled and I hung there a moment, bent forward. “You need to relax,” his voice tried to soothe me.

Straightening up, I tried to turn but he wouldn’t let me and just held me tighter. My brain hurt, I couldn’t reconcile his tone of voice with my current circumstances or the chaos running through my mind. I wanted to take off, leave, hide, and make the noise stop and bring back the familiar numbness I was used to.

“Mabel,” he said, his voice low. “Please stop. You need to breathe.”

Just then, I heard my own gasping and choking. When I looked down, I focused on his sleeve, watching tiny drips falling onto the fabric before being absorbed.

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