Page 24 of Stalking the Bride

I searched the whole pier and couldn’t find her. I called her countless times, but it goes straight to voicemail, and every time I hear her recorded voice, a distant ghost of the real thing, it’s like a venomous sting to my heart.

She’s sharp. She used her little challenge back there with the punching machine as a ploy to get me to take my eyes off her for a split second, and in that second, she made her escape.

I should have expected it. I never should have turned my back on her.

My lungs are on fire from sprinting up and down the pier. I went back to the manor and checked every room under the pretext that I was just doing a final inspection for any possible explosives. So what if I drew some strange looks from the staff? I don’t care. All I care about is finding Belle.Now.

She wasn’t at her parents’ house either, but that didn’t surprise me. She knows I’m looking for her and that would be one of the first places I’d check. So it makes sense she wouldn’t be there. I nearly swerved off the road into her neighbor’s fencewhen I peeled out and pulled an aggressive U-turn to head back to the pier. There’s still a small chance that she found a shadowy place to hide and wait until she felt it was safe to leave.

But when I return and begin marching up and down the boardwalk, more and more people start throwing strange glances in my direction. I feel rabid, out of my mind, and I must look it too. If I keep this up, it won’t be long before someone calls the cops on me–if Belle hasn’t already.

But she wouldn’t do that, would she?

She has every reason to.

I lied to her, ruined her wedding, stalked her, and she knows it all now. She must be terrified of me. But how could she be? She must know I would never hurt her. I might never let her leave my sight again. I might keep all other men from laying their filthy eyes on her, but I would neverhurther. Not my girl. My angel.

Panting like a dog, I stare up at the stars and think:where else could she be?If she rented a hotel around here, it’s going to be pretty much impossible to find her. There are far too many to check, and no desk clerk is going to tell a madman man like me if she’s checked in. She couldn’t have called Fitch, could she? No. No way. Besides, if she were at the room I set up for him, one of my guys would have called to alert me.

I find it hard to believe she’d go to the cops on me, but just in case, I speed over to the station, my heart flaming with every beat. If she’s already inside, I won’t be able to get her out of there. I guess I could try pretending she’s a friend of mine in the midst of a manic episode and I need to get her home, but the cops would never buy that. In fact, that would just get me into more trouble.

I’m on the verge of breaking down completely as I pull up on the opposite side of the street from the police station. Gasping for breath, I lift my sniper scope to my eye and peer inside, but all I see is a bored uniformed man messing around on his phone.

A slight sense of relief passes through me, but it’s instantly washed away by the distress ofstillnot knowing where my angel has disappeared to.

I scratch a red patch into my skin as my anxiety levels peak.

“Belle!” I shout, slamming my fist against the dash. “Where are you!?”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, startling me like I’ve just been hit by a taser. I pull it out and see the call is coming from a blocked number. I answer instantly without thinking. “Belle?”

Wrong answer.

That was a mistake.

If it is her, I now sound frantic and potentially dangerous. If it’s someone who knows Fitch, they’ll be wondering why Belle is not with me. I could have just cost myself everything from my lack of restraint.

“No,” a distorted male voice says from the other end. Am I losing cell service? “Conrad, I’m just calling to let you know…that a second bomb threat has been called in.”

“What!?” I nearly explode. Asecondbomb threat? How can this be? The first wasn’t even real; it was fabricated by me. And Barry was just some weirdo looking for attention. So who is this? My body goes cold with dread. Have I created a copy-cat? “Where? Who is this?”

I’m shouting so hard my lungs feel like they’re peeling out of my chest. My head is spinning as I try to put together what’s happening.

“The hotel room you rented for Belle, sir,” the voice responds. Instantly, I slam on the gas and peel out, causing the officer inside the station to glance up from his boredom. Hopefully he doesn’t get pissed and get my plate. This is not the time to have the cops on my ass.

“When did the threat come in!?” I shout. There’s no response, and I look down at my phone and see that the call waslost. Cell service has always been spotty around here, but I’ve never been more enraged by it.

I call my guys at the hotel as I’m on my way there, but neither one of them answers. They are both so fucking fired when I get my hands on them. This is breaking every protocol we have for maintaining safety at a set location.

I sprint to Belle’s room when I reach the hotel and see that both of the men I had posted there are gone. The door is ajar. I burst in, pistol drawn as I clear every angle. But there’s nothing. No one. “Belle!” I shout, bewildered. I’m just about to turn back when I see something on the bed.

A worn cardboard box with a card on top. Beside it, a pink pillowcase.

The world seems to come to a cold halt.

My eyes move to the pillowcase, and my chest threatens to burst as my heartrate reaches a new high.This should not be here. Either it’s the one I stole, which means someone broke into my apartment and took it back, or it’s the matching case from Belle’s, which means someone stole it from her room. And that thought absolutely terrifies me.

I holster my gun and approach slowly. Is thereactuallya bomb in there? And if so, where are my men? Where is Belle now? How did someone manage to get in here without being noticed? So many questions prick at my mind like a thousand needles as I look down at the card.

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