Page 21 of Just a Little Crush

She arched a brow, giving me a bit of attitude. “Are you sure you want to leave your fancy sports car parked out here, unattended?”

She had a point. My Audi stuck out like a sore thumb, along with a black BMW parked a few car lengths ahead of us. And those guys who’d just exited the park were eyeing the R8 like it was theirs for the taking, but I didn’t give a shit. Stevie’s welfare was far more important. A car was replaceable. Stevie was not.

“I’ll take my chances,” I said, meaning it as I released her wrist. “That’s what insurance is for.”

“Fine.”

She huffed out an annoyed sigh I would have found amusing if I wasn’t so on edge about where she lived. Which on some level I recognized as ridiculous considering she’d resided here for three years, without incident. It didn’t matter. One night with Stevie and my protective instincts toward her were on overdrive.

We got out of the car and I met up with her on the cracked and uneven sidewalk. We started toward the brick building, with me glaring at the men who were eyeing Stevie in her sexy dress and heels from last night, despite me being with her. Oblivious to those leers, she absently glanced over at the black BMW parked at the curb up ahead and abruptly stopped walking, her posture stiff and her expression startled. She must not have seen the car when we’d driven up, because she was now staring at it with a look of trepidation.

I stopped beside Stevie, her troubled reaction confusing me. “Is everything okay?”

Before she could answer, the vehicle flipped a quick U-turn and sped away in the opposite direction.

She glanced at me, her unease palpable. “I’m pretty sure that was Mark’s car.”

“Mark?” I asked, trying to follow her explanation.

“Valerie’s ex,” she said, reminding me of the conversation we’d had last night at the party, of the abusive relationship her sister had just gotten out of.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Ninety-nine percent. He drives a black BMW, and just like your car, there aren’t a lot of sports cars like that around here,” she said, and then her eyes flared with fear. “Shit, if that was Mark I need to check on my sister and make sure she’s okay.”

She turned toward the apartment building and all but ran up the sidewalk leading to the entrance. My long strides kept me by her side.

“I thought you said there was a restraining order against him,” I said, as we entered the complex. There was no lobby, no security or safeguards in place whatsoever to protect the residents, and definitely no amenities. Just a bank of metal mailboxes, an elevator with an “out of order” sign posted on the doors, and a flight of stairs straight ahead.

She scoffed as she rushed up the first set of steps. “Like that would keep an egomaniac like Mark away from Valerie.”

I couldn’t argue with her logic which was fueling her anxiety, and since I had no idea where her apartment was, I could only follow her up two flights of stairs to a third story. Out of breath, she dug through her purse as we hurried down a hallway, and when she reached her place she used a key to unlock the door.

She burst inside, leaving the door open for me to come in, too. “Valerie!” she yelled in a panic when an initial sweep of the very miniscule living room and kitchenette showed no signs of her sister.

“Jesus, Stevie, I’m right in here sorting clothes for the laundromat,” Valerie said, walking out of what I assumed was a bedroom, carrying a basket with clothes. “You don’t have to shout.”

A startled look passed over Valerie’s features at seeing me there, too. “Oh, hey…hi, Caleb—”

“Was Mark here?” Stevie demanded to know, interrupting any pleasantries.

Confusion flickered in Valerie’s eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m pretty sure I saw his car parked outside the building.”

Valerie set the laundry basket down on the couch, her demeanor turning cautious. “Youthink, or you for sure saw him?”

“It was a black BMW, Val,” Stevie said, and I could hear the genuine worry in her voice. “I don’t know if Mark was for sure behind the wheel, but what are the chances of a car like his being in this neighborhood, just hanging out in front of the apartment building?”

Valerie visibly paled, which told me how frightened of this asshole she was. “If he was here, he didn’t come up to the apartment.”

Stevie’s lips flattened into a grim line. “Maybe he didn’t have the chance to because he saw me first.”

Finally, I stepped forward and offered my advice. “You should call the police and report the incident.”

“There’s no proof,” Valerie said, shaking her head, which did nothing to chase away the distress that was plain on her face. “The restraining order does prohibit Mark from contacting me in any way. By phone, text, email, social media, or in person, but…if he didn’t actually come up to the apartment, neither I nor Stevie can prove that he was here because it would be his word against mine.”

That was true because there wereno fucking security camerasto record and catch suspicious activities around the building. I was beyond frustrated by those lack of safety measures, but kept my tone neutral. “If you report it, the police will at least have it on record.”

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