Page 6 of Surfer's Paradise

Rosie knew that look.

Vlado’s attention shifted entirely. His body tilted toward the woman, shoulders relaxing, drink lifting halfway to his mouth.

And just like that, she was forgotten.

Rosie didn’t hesitate.

She slipped away from the bar, grabbing her bag, moving fast, before anyone could stop her.

She was already through the door, already on the street, breathing again—

“Rosalie.”

Shit.

She barely made it ten steps before she heard him.

His voice.

His footsteps.

Isaac had followed.

And there was no getting away now.

Chapter 3

Isaac moved fast.

Rosie moved faster.

She was already halfway down the block, heels clicking sharp against the pavement, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Like she was holding herself in. Like she could disappear into the dark if she just walked fast enough.

Yeah, no.

Not happening.

Isaac caught up easily, his stride longer, looser. Drunk enough to feel the hum in his veins, the reckless kind of invincible, but sober enough to know something wasn’t right.

Something had been off with Rosie from the second he walked in that bar.

And he didn’t like that.

Didn’t like that she didn’t look at him.

Didn’t like that she ran the second she could.

Didn’t like that Vlado fucker’s hand had been anywhere near her.

Not that it mattered. Not that he cared.

But still.

He didn’t like it.

“Rosie,” he called again, voice low, coaxing.

Nothing.

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