Page 24 of Rival for Rent
“I didn’t exactly relish them telling me I was overreacting.”
“But you weren’t. You had proof.” He narrowed his eyes. “You saved the notes, right?”
“I’m not a complete idiot,” I said, a little sharper than intended.
“I’m not saying you are. But people panic. They forget to do obvious things.”
I studied him again. He wasn’t acting like a concerned bystander. He was talking like someone who’d seen threats like this before. What the hell had Mason been up to since high school?
“Well, I saved them. And I started taking a hired car to work in the mornings instead of the Metro. It was fine for a few days, until…”
“What happened?” he asked, his voice tight.
“I was leaving my office, and someone shoved me in front of an oncoming UPS truck.”
“What the fuck?” Mason pushed away from the kitchen island like he expected the truck to crash through the wall. His whole body went tense.
I could still feel it—the screech of brakes, the adrenaline surge. I’d rolled into the gutter just in time. Bella came over to Mason, ears pricked and body alert, like she could sense the shift in the room.
“Tell me you went to the cops after that,” Mason said.
“I did,” I said, suddenly exhausted. “I showed them the notes, told them everything. They wrote it all down, kept the notes. But I could tell they thought I was being melodramatic.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“To be fair, they didn’t see either incident. And on their own, the notes don’t prove anything. But then—”
I broke off. Even now, I didn’t like thinking about what I’d found that night.
“Five nights ago, I came home from work. There was another note on my doorstep. And it was stuck—” I swallowed. “It was stuck to a fetal pig. With a knife.”
“What the fuck?”
“It said, ‘Stop construction on the shelter, or you’ll squeal like him.’”
“Christ, Kai.” Mason’s eyes were wide. “The cops have to take that seriously.”
“They did,” I said, crossing my arms. I still felt cold just thinking about it. “They said they’d check CCTV in the neighborhood, ask if any neighbors had cameras pointed at my house. But they didn’t find anything. And they told me they didn’t have the resources to assign someone to follow me around. Not when they’ve got active murder cases going on.”
“So they’re just going to wait until you become an active murder investigation too?” Mason asked, his voice low and disgusted.
I shivered. I’d been trying so hard not to let this get under my skin. Telling myself it was some weirdo who wouldn’t follow through. But hearing Mason say it like that…
“They’re the ones who suggested I look into a bodyguard,” I told him. “But I keep thinking maybe I was making too big a deal out of this. I mean, I’m nobody. I’m not famous. It doesn’t make sense that someone would target me. So getting a bodyguard felt a little…you know.”
“I don’t know,” Mason replied, giving me a long look. “It sounds like exactly what you need.”
I fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. “That’s why I called you guys. I told Amir what the cops had said, and he suggested that if I wasn’t sure about hiring a bodyguard, I could give you a try. No real security service was going to take me seriously. Like, ‘Hi, someone’s threatening me with pork-based metaphors, please help?’ They’d laugh me out of their office.”
“And you were more afraid of getting laughed at than getting killed?”
“When you put it like that…”
“They’re not going to laugh if you have money. Fuck, Kai, we live in DC. Do you know how many diplomats and billionaires come through here? You really didn’t think you could find a professional, discreet agency to help you?”
I shifted uncomfortably and said nothing.
“I don’t suppose you’ve considered putting a halt on construction of the center?”
