Page 19 of Found By Him

I rest my forehead on hers as we catch our breaths. My voice is husky when I say, “You should go inside.”

She doesn’t immediately move. After a few more moments, she shifts back. I lessen my grip, but keep my hold on her. Pressing my lips to her forehead in one last kiss, I release her and step back. “Text me you’re in your condo with the door locked.”

My jaw clenches when her tongue darts out to taste her lips. This woman’s mouth is much too tempting.

Her voice is barely audible when she says, “Goodnight, Jack.”

I don’t trust myself not to beg her for more. All I canmanage is a nod in response. I shove my hands in my pockets as I watch her disappear inside her building. I stand, staring at the door, until my phone vibrates with a text.

Gisella: I’m inside. With the door locked. Thank you for the ride home.

I type out a message as I return to where I’m parked, all with a smile plastered on my face.

Me: Anytime. Sweet dreams.

12

Ella

Ipress my fingers to my mouth. If I think hard enough, I swear I can still feel his lips on mine. My attraction to Jack is somewhat overwhelming to my system. Never in my thirty-five years have I ever wanted someone as viscerally as I want Jack.

Even this morning while curled up on my couch and drinking my coffee, thinking about our kiss has my skin flushing.

Glancing down at my phone, dread devours the arousal I feel.

As I was lying in bed last night, replaying the evening in my mind, the text and the unknown figure haunted me.

Between the night at dinner with Jack and whatever happened outside the restaurant, doing nothing would be foolish.

I shudder as I think back to when this first started. It wasright around Christmas last year, and I had just broken up with my boyfriend a few weeks prior. I left work to find a typed note under the wiper blade of my car. It was weird, but nothing overtly threatening. It was something about how I looked nice in the dress I wore that day. I thought maybe it was my ex trying to get back with me, but when I confronted him, he denied it. He also didn’t appear concerned by it, so I decided I wouldn’t be either. Only, the notes on my car continued. They were usually about how I looked that day, but occasionally, they would take a different tone if I went to lunch with a male coworker or on a date.

After one particularly aggressive note, I brought it to the police, but since I had no idea who the culprit could be and there was no real evidence that would lead to identification, they didn’t take it seriously, especially since it was only these random notes.

I never understood that reasoning. How many more times do these kinds of situations have to take a dramatic and sometimes life-changing or ending turn for police to take them seriously?

It wasn’t long after I went to the police that I started getting texts instead of typed notes. I debated going back to the police, but I wasn’t convinced they would take this any more seriously.

Then, two months ago, everything stopped. No texts. No notes. Eerily silent after six months of almost weekly contact. Not that I wished death on anyone, but a part of me hoped they died. Or were in jail for a long time.

Unfortunately, it appears I’m not that lucky.

Last night, I considered going to the cops again, but why bother when I was sure they still wouldn’t do anything?

I nibble on my nail, debating if I should do what I’m afraid is my next best option.

I don’t want Jack to assume I’m taking advantage of what happened between us last night. I can make it clear that while I can’t pay much, I’m willing to work out the level of services he offers that fit within my budget.

Not that I have any idea what personal security services actually cost.

Maybe I can just ask for his advice instead. That way, we don’t have to have the uncomfortable conversation of him telling me I can’t afford his help. I wipe my clammy palms down the thighs of my jeans, then pick up my phone and unlock the screen. It’s a little past ten in the morning as my finger hovers over our text messages.

I quickly type out the message and send it before I can rethink it further.

Me: Hey Jack! Do you have some time today? I have a question I want to ask you. I can meet wherever is convenient for you.

I toss my phone onto the couch next to me, worrying my lip between my teeth. Seconds later, it vibrates.

Jack: I can be at your place in fifteen.

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