Page 75 of Saved By the Boss

My blood runs cold. Cater Street. There’s no Cater Street here. But there is one in LA The memory slams into me like a freight train: the alleyway, the sound of gunfire, the body crumpling to the ground. My stomach twists, and I grip the edge of the counter to steady myself.

“N-no,” I stammer. “There’s no Cater Street in this town.”

The man’s lips curl into a grin that sends a shiver down my spine. He picks up the saw, his movements slow and deliberate.

“You can’t run from us. And if you even look sideways at a cop, I’ll be using this saw to chop off that pretty little head of yours.”

He straightens up, his grin widening as he watches the fear settle in my eyes. The weight of his words presses down on me, each syllable a stone sinking me deeper into panic. My fingers curl tightly around the counter’s edge, my knuckles white, but I don’t dare move or say anything else. My breath feels stuck in my throat, caught between a scream I can’t let out and the air I’m desperately trying to pull in.

As he turns to leave, the bell jingling again like some cruel punctuation, my legs feel like they might give out. I stumble back, pressing myself against the wall behind the counter, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in around me. My mind is racing, trying to piece together what to do next. They found me. After all this time, they found me.

I’m shaking so badly I can barely think. I reach for my phone with trembling hands, desperate to call someone, anyone, but who? Tawny? Declan? Certainly not the police.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts and realize that the only thing I can do is run.

18

Declan

The silence of my cabin feels oppressive, almost mocking. I texted Jade hours ago to confirm our date and haven’t heard anything from her all day. I’ve been staring at my phone for the better part of an hour, willing a response to appear on the screen. Nothing. No text. No call. Radio silence.

My gut twists, and I can’t shake the growing sense of unease. We’re often playing phone tag with each other, but she always responds eventually. Something feels off.

Not for the first time, I start to wonder if she even wants to see me again. I’ve been pushing off our date for weeks to better heal, and I know that’s frustrating. If I were her, I’d probably assume that I’d lost interest, though that isn’t remotely the case. Before I met her, I felt like I was drifting in life, not anchored to anything at all in this world. That’s how lost I was after Cassidy’s death. After those two days with her, though, I finally felt like there was good in the world again. Like I was grounded to something again.

I’ve been trying to play it cool, trying not to push too hard, but the truth is, I miss her a lot. Maybe it’s ridiculous, but I don’t care. We spent two perfect days together, and since then she’s all I can think about. We fit together perfectly, like she was a piece of my puzzle that I didn’t know I was missing until now. I would’ve gone the rest of my life thinking that there was no one else in the world who could make me feel that way. I’ve been desperate to see her again, to touch her again and feel that instant spark.

But now I’m scared she’s ghosting me. I would get it, honestly, but it would break my heart to not see her again.

I tap out another message to her:Jade, you okay? Let me know if you need anything.

I hit send and stare at the phone, hoping for those three little dots that mean she’s typing. But the screen remains stubbornly blank. The minutes drag by, my anticipation growing with every passing second. Suddenly, an entire hour has passed and she hasn’t answered me. Screw it. I scroll to her name in my contacts and hit the call button.

The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. I’m sure it’s about to go to voicemail when she finally answers.

“Hello?” Her voice is choked, shaky, and my chest tightens instantly. She’s crying.

“Jade?” I ask sharply, already on my feet and heading toward the door. “What’s wrong?”

I knew something was wrong. I felt it in my gut.

“I can’t talk about it,” she stammers. Her words come out in a rush, as if she’s not taking the time to properly breathe. “Declan,you need to stay away from me. Please. It’s not safe. You were right, I’m dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Jade, what are you talking about? Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t,” she sobs again uncontrollably.

“Jade,” I whisper her name softly, almost like a prayer. “Please talk to me. I want to help you.”

“You can’t help,” she answers tearfully. “I never should have gotten involved with you; I knew I would only hurt you.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, all of my worst feelings being realized. Has she somehow figured out who I am? Is she afraid of me? But then I realize that I’m giving in to my own insecurities. She isn’t afraid of me. She thinks I should be afraid of her. Something clicks in my mind, and my blood begins to boil.

“Did someone threaten you?” I ask, thinking of my brother or any one of his many associates. I can’t say for sure that he’s involved, but she definitely sounds like someone’s spooked her.

There’s a long pause, and then she whispers reluctantly, “Yes.”

I grab my keys and walk out the door, ready to go to war with anyone who’s come in contact with her.

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