Page 4 of Lonely Heart

He screamed in agony.

Then I tore off in the opposite direction, back to my car. As I ran, never looking back, I reached into my pocket, grateful I’d shoved the key fob in there after I’d parked. Still running, my car in sight, I hit the button to unlock the door.

I fumbled to open the door, but I managed to get myself inside and lock the doors just in time. He was coming after me.

I didn’t wait.

I turned on the car, checked the road was clear, and sped off.

Despite how badly I wanted to crumple with relief or drown in my tears, I didn’t. I kept my focus on getting somewhere safe—the hotel was the closest.

I sped through downtown Landing, grateful to have missed all the red lights, and tried to breathe deeply to calm my racing heart. My insides trembled the entire drive there.

By the time I’d arrived, I was in no better state than I’d been in before. The lot was well lit, and I didn’t have a far walk, but I was virtually paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t stay in my car all night, but I wasn’t sure I could walk outside again, either.

Nervously, still panicked, I glanced around the car.

One step at a time.

Sunglasses and a hat.

I grabbed them, put them on, and hoped they’d be enough to conceal whatever the state of my face was. Then I zipped up my jacket to hide my disheveled clothes beneath.

Just a few more steps before I could break down.

I grabbed my master set of keys for the hotel out of the center console, exited the car, hit the locks, and zipped to the frontdoor as fast as I could. I slowed my pace just a few feet from the entrance.

Fortunately, everyone at the front desk was busy helping other guests, so I was able to make it to the elevator unnoticed by members of my staff.

There was a suite on the fourth floor that was currently out of commission until Cooper, who was the head of maintenance and operations, could get himself or one of the members of his team to fix the dryer.

That was exactly where I was going to go and spend the night.

Almost there.

So close.

Only a handful of steps left to go.

The doors to the elevator slid open, and I stepped off to make my way to the room. I shoved my key into the lock, heard the elevator chime, and glanced nervously behind me to be certain I hadn’t been followed.

Seconds later, I stepped inside, pulled off my jacket, hat, and sunglasses, and sagged with relief against the door.

I hadn’t quite caught my breath when I heard the lock click. My body went ramrod straight, and I slowly began to back away from the door.

Oh, God.

Oh, God, he followed me.

He knew where I was.

Fear bubbled to the surface again, my hand clutching my torn shirt at the center of my chest.

I stopped breathing and prepared myself to scream.

That’s when the door opened, and my eyes landed on only one of a few people who could make me feel better at a time like this.

My brother’s best friend, Marco Kingston.

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