Page 27 of Traitor

He interrupted me. “Can I have your number?”

I snorted, “What? Didn’t get enough insults tonight?”

Jimmy cocked his head to the side and studied my face. “Something like that. So, is that a yes?”

What are you doing, Red?

His voice was so clear that I could’ve sworn he was standing right behind me. I’d officially gone off the deep end; the voice in my head now sounded just like Mike.

I hesitated and Jimmy caught it. “Hey, if you’re not comfortable, it’s no big deal. I just thought in case I don’t see you again, I’d better ask.”

Was I really going to live out the rest of my life afraid to take a chance on falling in love again because of what Mike did?

“Tell you what. Why don’t we not see each other again on Friday at eight? I can put you through my work-out this time.”

I was going to get over him. I just needed to distract my heart long enough for it to piece itself back together.

“It’s not a date.” He grinned.

We said our goodbyes and I sank into the driver’s seat with a happy sigh. So, it wasn’t like it was with Mike. That was probably a good thing. I waited for a break in traffic before pulling out of the parking lot. The downside to living in a college town was the fact that the roads were never deserted.

I merged into the far-right lane and noticed a motorcycle in my rearview mirror as I approached my turn.

Jimmy.

When he made the same turn, I shook my head with a laugh and cranked up my music. If he was trying to catch up with me, I was going to pretend like I didn’t notice. While Will.i.am and Britney were encouraging me to scream and shout, I kept my eyes on the rearview mirror, silently encouraging him to keep up.

Jimmy, unfortunately, seemed to be content to remain three cars behind me. He followed me over as I moved into the left lane to get on the Loop and only sped up once we were on the freeway.

It was then that I noticed that the rider on the motorcycle was wearing a black helmet with a tinted visor.

It wasn’t Jimmy.

My pulse picked up and I tried to convince myself that it was a weird coincidence. There’d probably been five other cars that had followed me from the gym, all going to different destinations.

I moved into the middle lane and the motorcyclist moved as well. He did the same when I drove into the left lane. Okay, he was definitely following me. My exit was coming up on the right, but I didn’t want to lead him right to my doorstep. Instead, I passed it and then picked up speed before moving back into the middle lane.

The motorcycle did the same, weaving in and out of cars to keep pace with me. He could’ve easily taken me, but he continued to stay three cars back, as if he thought I was oblivious to him.

My brain frantically ran through emergency protocol, urging me to call the police. I resisted. They’d all but ignored my mother’s death, who was to say that they’d lift a finger to help me now?

The exit sign for University Ave loomed up ahead and I knew I wasn’t going to get another shot. I moved into the left lane and waited for him to follow, before crossing back over three lanes of traffic to make the exit, amid multiple horns honking. The motorcyclist tried and failed to do the same, getting swept back up into traffic.

I took the residential streets and wound my way back toward my apartment, changing up streets every few blocks. My heart was pounding fiercely in my chest, but a glance in the rearview mirror told me that I’d lost him for good.

I cut the headlights as I entered my apartment complex parking lot. I’d just put the car in park when the loud roar of a bike cut through the sounds of crickets and my heart actually skipped a beat.

Fuck.

I slid down in my seat, praying that he hadn’t memorized my car and would drive on once he saw a bunch of empty vehicles. I wasn’t that lucky and he wasn’t that stupid. The muffler growled as he came to a stop right behind my car. I was blocked in. I saw everything from the side mirror, including the moment he noticed me crouched down in the driver’s seat.

He killed the bike and removed his helmet before reaching behind his back—probably searching for something to murder me with.

I fought through the fear that had me temporarily paralyzed and threw the door open before running like hell for my apartment. I’d just made it to the stairs when he tackled me from behind in a bear hug. My chin and knee slammed into the concrete steps as I fell and I cried out loudly. The man slapped a hand over my mouth and pressed something to my throat just as I remembered the gun in my waistband. With his weight on top of me, there was no way I could get to it now.

“Shhhh…you open that pretty mouth again and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.” He had a thick Spanish accent, but the threat was understandable in any language.

I nodded my assent before he decided to slit my throat and be done with it, cursing myself for my stupidity.

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