Page 76 of Knocked Up by my Best Friend's Brothers

“Sorry, my brain is just not working right.”

“Your brain is now working for two. It’s perfectly normal. Hey, I know a swanky little terrace not far from here. How about a minty lemonade? You know, since you can’t have wine.”

I give her a soft smile and glance over my shoulder. The three men I saw earlier are walking behind us. They’re keeping their distance, still chatting and laughing, but one of them looks at me, and I recognize a spark in his eyes—of recognition, of intention.

It unsettles me so quickly that my fight-or-flight instinct is immediately tripped off.

“Do you mind if we go somewhere else?” I ask Alexandra, walking faster.

She keeps up, heels clicking across the pavement while I thank the stars I opted for flats this morning. “Sure. Do you know a good place for nonalcoholic drinks?”

“I know a few,” I say and lead the way up a flight of stone steps.

We’re back on the main boulevard that runs parallel to the river. About half a block ahead, there’s a park with a plethora of lush greenery and old marble water fountains. I have a mind to go through there, if push comes to shove.

“Are you in a rush?” Alexandra asks.

“My bladder is about to explode,” I reply.

They’re still behind us, and they’re picking up speed. They’re trying not to arouse my suspicions, but it’s too late. I know I’m their target. I know it deep in my bones. The blood rushes up tomy head as I start thinking of a way out that keeps Alexandra away from any collateral harm.

The last thing I need is to drag her into my messy past.

“Christa, what’s wrong?” she asks and follows my gaze. “Are they following us?”

“You picked up on that?” I croak.

“I’m not blind. As a woman, I kind of have to keep an eye out for these things. Who are those guys?”

“I don’t know.”

But I do. I just don’t want to alarm Alexandra any more than she already is.

“They’re quite persistent,” she mutters as we cross the street and they follow.

We turn one corner, then another and look back again.

“Maybe we lost them,” I whisper. We pass by a fashion boutique when Alexandra gasps.

“No, they’re coming.”

“Shit.”

My hands shake as I reach into my purse for the phone. I need to call the Hawthornes. I promised I would the minute I catch wind of something wicked coming my way.

“What are you doing?” she asks as we walk even faster.

Alexandra is not comfortable walking at this speed wearing those high heels. Tough luck, though, because I need to get us the hell out of here and fast.

“Calling someone to come pick us up. We need to find a crowded spot or somewhere with a lot of people so they can’t do anything.”

“What would they do?”

“You just said that as a woman you have to be careful,” I shoot back with mild irritation. “What do you think three strangers who are currently following us would want to do to us?”

Alexandra scoffs, then grabs me by the wrist and yanks me off the sidewalk altogether. We practically stumble through the front door of an Irish pub where the game is on, the TV is loud, and the drunken patrons are even louder.

“Leave it to the day drinkers to camouflage us,” she says.

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