Page 26 of Jett in Jeopardy

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He sighed loudly. “There was a car that followed me home, too.”

The knots twisting my insides squeezed tighter. “What car?”

“The night—morning, really—after I left your place. No one was around except this one car that was trailing behind me about twenty feet back. Even if my pace slowed, it wouldn’t go past me. But then, when I got to my house, it just kept going by at the same speed. So, I wasn’t sure if it was following me or not.”

I didn’t bother to ask if he reported the incident. I had a feeling I already knew the answer. “Was it the same car as tonight?”

Jett shook his head and shrugged. “I really don’t know. I didn’t get a good look at the car when I was walking home from your place. It stayed behind me, and I couldn’t see past the headlights. Even when I made it to my place and the car drove past, it was still too dark to see much. And tonight, I was too busy rolling onto the hood of my Jeep. I didn’t see anything, really.” He let out a frustrated groan and scrubbed both hands down his face. “Maybe this is all in my head, and I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”

“This isnotin your head.” I wasn’t able to shake the cold, sick feeling at the idea of some asshole following Jett from my place—and all because I said something stupid. Separately, any one of the incidents Jett described would be disconcerting, but put together, it was more than unnerving. Someone was definitely messing with him, but even more disturbing was a clear pattern of escalation.

I slowed down for The Square’s main intersection. Hesitating to turn left up the hill to Jett’s place, I didn’t want to leave him alone in the big house—roommates and alarm system or not. I wanted him with me, where I could make sure he was safe.

“Why don’t you crash at my place tonight? We can talk about this more and work out exactly what’s going on. We don’t have to do anything besides talk?” I added, quickly.

He looked up and leveled his gaze at mine. “What if I don’t want to talk anymore tonight? And by not talk, I mean what if I want to fuck again?”

“I think we should still talk, but as for fucking, I don’t think I’m very good at telling youno.”

“I don’t know about that. You were pretty good at telling me no for the last three years.”

“I haven’t been good at telling you nolately.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, then grinned.

Chapter Eleven

Jett

IfollowedBrodyupthe metal stairs at the back of The Dunes to the patio on top of the building outside his apartment. The fine drizzle that had been falling earlier stopped, but the wind off the water felt stronger up there. It was colder, slapping at exposed skin and seeping through my clothes as if I wasn’t wearing anything at all. I could hear the relentless crash of the surf against the beach, but couldn’t see anything as the overcast made it impossible to see the ocean without the shining light from the stars or the moon. It felt as if the ocean had been swallowed up in the darkness.

I wrapped my arms around my middle and gritted my teeth to keep them from chattering while Brody unlocked the door to let us in. He closed the door against the frigid air and flicked on the lights. The warmth of the apartment wrapped around me but did little to ease the chill that had permeated my being.

“Have you eaten tonight?” Brody asked, shrugging out of his coat and draping it over one of the kitchen chairs.

I shook my head. “I don’t think I can.”

My stomach felt tight and shriveled, and the idea of eating anything made my throat squeeze.

He nodded as if he understood. “How about something warm to drink, then?”

I could handle that, and it might help to get rid of the shivery feeling that seemed to have sunk into my core and radiated outward. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Have a seat. Get comfortable.” He gestured to the sofa. Despite my scattered thoughts spinning around and the feeling of dread curdling my insides, my face turned hot at the memory of the last time we spent time together on that sofa.

Pull it together, I told myself, forcing my feet forward. After all, this wasn’t an invitation to pick up where we left off. Though a part of me wished I was here just to fuck and not go over the details of who had it out for me.

I froze. The reality of thoughts hit me as if I’d run into a completely obvious brick wall. How had I not put all this together before now? I had no answer, but having laid all the incidents from the last few months out for Brody, it seemed pretty obvious now.

“Holy shit! I have a stalker!” The muscles in my legs turned soft, and I sank down onto the couch.

“Yeah.” Brody looked away from what he was doing at the kitchen counter, making tea judging from the kettle he’d plugged in and the mugs and box of tea bags set out in front of him. “I’m pretty sure you do, after everything you told me.”

I didn’t respond as I was still wrapping my head around the idea that someone had been doing all these things to me and my roommates for months, just because ofme. My stomach churned sickly when I thought of the fire and Alistair nearly dying when he went inside to save his cat or Grier from falling down the stairs. As if a concussion and broken arm weren't bad enough, he could have broken his neck or even died. And both those incidents were because of me.

“Hey,” Brody nudged, jerking me from my dark thoughts. I looked up at him, watching me from the kitchen, his expression impossible to read. “You should let your friends know that you’re here and safe.”

I nodded. He was right. Hell, I’d already done enough to them. I didn’t want to add making them worry about me to the list. My thumbs quickly shot off a text to Alistair, letting him know I was okay and thanking him for sending Brody to pick me up. Then they sent another message to Grier, telling him I was spending the night at Brody’s.

---