Page 3 of Stalking His Target

Why am I going out with some guy I know I won’t like? Is it to make Tasha happy? Or is it because I’m afraid that if I don’t get out of my apartment and do some actual socializing, I’ll end up a lonely old cat-lady counting dust flecks in my living room?

Something’s wrong with me. I just can’t do the whole “guy thing.”

Tasha meshes with the opposite sex so naturally, but I’ve had only bad luck when it comes to men, and I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this guy she’s setting me up with. I’m really starting to wonder why I’m putting this much effort into picking an outfit for tonight.

I still can’t decide what pants to wear out. I’m on my third pair when I glance over my shoulder at the large, plate-glass window in my bedroom that looks out over the street. The blinds are open, and I realize I’ve been flashing my ass to basically anybody who’s been walking by and looked up.

Oh, well. This is a nice neighborhood. Maybe someone caught a glimpse of some cheek, but it’s not like there’s anypsychos out there with binoculars and a camera taking shots for their personal jerk-stash.

I finally decide on some slim black jeans and a vintage T-shirt of some rock band with a cool logo, slip on a pretty bead necklace I picked up in downtown Austin with Tasha, grab my purse, and head out.

As I step outside, I wonder why I’m trotting around in heels and makeup on my way to a date that’s no doubt going to end in disaster. I’d much rather be curled up on the couch with some popcorn, watching a corny '90s rom-com where the awkward girl ends up with the hot guy.

I hear a cough up ahead and look up to see a man, swaying like he’s drunk out of his mind, stumbling right toward me. I step left, but he matches my movement, almost like he wants to be on a collision course with me.

An eerie feeling causes my chest to tighten. A second cough echoes behind me, and I glance back to see a second man rocking as he walks up the sidewalk in my direction. It’s like I’m being pinned in from both sides, and I feel my anxiety starting to kick in, so I quickly cut left, moving at a fast clip to cross the street.

And that’s when it happens.

The two men instantly snap out of their drunken stupor, which I quickly realize was just an act, and sprint toward me. My heart skips a beat as I try to run, but I’m wearing heels, and there’s really nothing I can do.

“Help!” I scream out as the first man reaches out and grabs hold of my arm. “Somebody–!”

My second scream is cut off as the second man muffles my lips with his hand. Panic hits me like a flood of cold adrenaline. This is it. I’m being kidnapped. I don’t know who these men are, but I can guess why they want me: to get to my uncle. No matter how far away from him I go, his business will always affect me.

I try to bite my attacker, but he forces my jaw shut, cutting off any chance I have of crying out or using my teeth to fight back. The men lift me up and carry me back across the road as I thrash wildly, the muscles in my legs and arms burning as I fight for my life.

My heart skips another beat when I see the white van, its sliding door open for me like a huge shark’s mouth.

Then there’s a thud.

The man grasping my feet falls to the ground clutching his left eye. There’s a blur of movement to my right, and I hear the sound of knuckles on flesh. I fall to the pavement as my second attacker is knocked back.

“Get your hands off her, you bastards!” a deep voice snarls.

I look up and see a monstrous, hulking man standing over me, putting his muscled body between me and my assailants. He’s built like a fighter or a soldier. Wide-shouldered, broad-chested, and wearing jeans, boots, and a raggedy tee.

He’s also brutally handsome in a dangerous way.

“Hey, man, just don’t hurt us, okay?” The guy who was just about to stuff me into the back of a van is now pleading like a little boy about to cry.

“I’d get out of here now,” he growls back, pulling his phone from his pocket. I watch him dial 9-1-1. “Yeah, I want to report an assault and attempted kidnapping on a woman–”

My pulse quickens with intrigue.

Who is this man? Why is he putting himself in danger for me?

Instantly, the two attackers leap to their feet and race off into the night. My mysterious guardian hangs up, smirks with disgust, then turns back to me and reaches out a massive, callused hand.

“You’re all right now, sweetheart. Those men won’t be back.” His voice is like warm honey in my ears, and his brilliant blueeyes seem to shine down at me through the darkness of the night. Suddenly, I know I’m all right. Safe. Nothing will happen to me now that he’s here.

I know I should reach out and take his hand, but my body doesn’t listen, and my eyes scour his with salacious interest.

His jeans are stretched and strained around his muscular, working-man’s thighs. His forearms are cut with sinewed muscle and laced with bulging veins signifying his strength. He has dark scruff wrapping his chiseled jaw and is wearing a mesh University of Texas hat.

Plenty of fellas around here might come off similar, but whoever this guy is, it’s like God took everything about him and dialed it up to 11. He’s bigger, taller, way hotter, and dripping with masculine energy.

I realize I’m thinking all kinds of inappropriate things about him as I reach out and take his hand. I was on my way to a date and here I am thinking about why his jeans seem to be bugling at the seams, so thick in the middle. Jesus, it’s like suddenly my ovaries are screaming at me.

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