Page 4 of Guarded from Treachery

Wonderful. Now I’m the Typhoid Mary of the office. What a great way to kick off my new job.

Ironically, once I get outside the building, I actually feel better. Not back to normal, but my stomach settles a little more, and the fresh morning air clears away some of my headache. As I walk across the parking lot, I feel a bit more alert, and less like I’ve just been run over by a truck.

A flicker of optimism sparks inside me.

All I need is a long nap, some saltines and tea, and then the afternoon snuggled up on the couch with my favorite blanket. I can watch the Food Network, my favorite guilty pleasure, and if my headache is gone, check in with Rory. See if I can convince her to come visit soon instead of hiding out at her farmhouse in northern Vermont.

By tomorrow morning, I’ll be fine. Ready to get back to work and kick some butt doing it.

I pick up my pace as I cross the parking lot, weaving through cars as I make my way to my little SUV. The lot is packed full of cars, but I’m the only person out here, which feels a bit odd. In the weeks I’ve been working for Edwards Shipping, I’m usually coming in or out with at least a handful of employees, chatting about mundane things like the weather or how the Cowboys will do next season.

Not that I have any idea. The only team I follow is the Red Sox, which I think is a requirement if you grew up in the Northeast. But I smile and nod along with the rest of them, and never,everadmit I don’t even know the rules of football.

I guess it’s not too strange that the parking lot is quiet, though. It’s not quite 9 AM, so everyone is busy checking emails or sitting through meetings. If anyone is heading out for coffee, they’d go out the front entrance and down the street to Brewful Delights, the place Amy was talking about going to.

Thinking about Amy, I should probably do something to thank her. While her enthusiasm verges on overwhelming at times, she’s been nice to me since I started. And today, she kept checking on me when she didn’t need to, giving up her coffee run to do it.

Maybe when I’m feeling better, fully better, I can invite her out for lunch. My treat, of course. Or I could suggest a drink at that wine bar down the road after work one day. Since I moved from Houston to Dallas six months ago, I haven’t had the time to make any local friends. And while Rory’s my best friend, she’s thousands of miles away. It might be nice to have someone?—

Wait.

From behind me, I hear a quick patter of footsteps.

Not the regular gait of someone walking to their car, or even the brisk stride of someone in a hurry.

Even though I’m walking through a wide open parking lot in broad daylight, a little skitter of nerves moves through me.

But when I glance over my shoulder, I don’t see anyone. Just dozens of cars lined up in long rows. And beyond that, my office building, three-stories of brick and glass.

There’s nothing alarming. No reason to feel nervous. I probably just heard a discarded can rolling across the asphalt. Or it could be a stray cat scurrying under the cars, looking for scraps of food or trying to find shelter.

Still. I pick up my pace as I continue towards my car. Even though I know it’s fine, there’s still that lingering anxiety, the same kind I think most women feel when they’re walking alone.

My car is one row away when I hear the noise again.

The same rushing patter of feet.

This time, my heart jumps to double speed.

That little skitter of nerves turns to a gallop.

I reach into my purse to grab my keys, clutching my fingers around them. I press the unlock button and my car makes a little beep; the headlights flashing in response.

It’s fine. Nothing to worry about.

Until.

Something heavy slams into me from behind.

Not something.

Someone.

The force of the blow almost sends me to my knees, but a powerful arm clamps around me, jerking me back to my feet.

Oh, God.

Fear steals my breath. My lungs seize. Panic threatens to take over.

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