Page 111 of Rear View
Nah. Not gonna fly.
I tucked a knuckle under her chin and brought those copper eyes to mine. They’d dulled. That shine gone. I hated it. “How long’s he been a problem?”
She twisted my shirt between her dainty fingers. “Two years.”
My chest seized. Two years with some stranger on her heels, haunting her steps. Watching. Waiting. How scared had she been?
I exhaled, good and slow. Setting my hand along herjaw, I tracked my thumb high, then grazed it over the scar above her brow. “He do this?”
She leaned into that touch and gave a soft nod.
“What else’s he done to you, dream girl?”
“He watches me.” Her breath hitched and she sniffed. “Sends messages.” She twisted the material of my hoodie tighter, the creases around her eyes deep like there was more to say, but she was afraid of sayin’ it. And fuck me if I wasn’t terrified too. Not for me. I could give a shit about myself, but hearing he’d hurt her…
“What else?” I pushed.
“He,” she swallowed hard, “he was outside my apartment this morning.”
I crushed my eyes closed and set my forehead to hers, my hands gripping the edge of the counter until it dug deep into my skin. “Today?”
“Yes.”
That morning. He’d come for herthat fuckin’ morning! I’d hunt the prick, tear him limb from limb and feed his corpse to the dirt.
I reopened my eyes and rolled my shoulders, pulling myself together for her, ’cause she needed me more than I needed my rage. Clearing my throat, I asked, “You keep any of those messages?”
“I kept everything, just in case.”
Just in case she needed it. Just in case the worst happened. Just in case the prick got to her. Again. “Show me.”
“I don’t—” Her voice hitched, and more tears filled those eyes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Xavier. Some of it”—moisture trailed down her cheek—“it’s really bad.”
“I’m in this now. No turnin’ back.” I slid my hands into her hair. “I wanna know what we’re dealin’ with.”
She raked her touch up my ribs. “There are things in there…”
“There’s nothing you can’t tell me, yeah,” I reminded her. “So, tell me, Ryah.”
Her hiccupped sob was stained with regret. “There are pictures.”
My stomach hardened. “Of you?”
She tried to look away, but I held her steady. Her eyes squeezed shut.
“Look at me, darlin’.”
They stayed closed for several long-ass seconds before they reopened, wide and shining. She shook. Scared. And the thought of it fuckin’ gutted me.
“I’m here.” My fingers burrowed deeper along her scalp. “I ain’t going anywhere,” I said, then continued, “He got pictures of you?”
“Yes,” she breathed, angling forward, her head against my shoulder as she gave me her weight. “He took them through my computer.”
That tape over her camera. My jaw clenched as I fought not to bare my damn teeth. His death would be slow. Painful.
“I didn’t know people could do that,” she said. “I had it open when I was getting changed.”
“And he was watchin’.”
