Page 55 of The Hunted
Because I want to look my best for him?
That was also a first for her. She liked the way he looked at her, like he couldn’t get enough of her. When she looked down at herself she wasn’t sure he’d still see her that way, though he did enjoy the way she looked when they ran into each other at the gym.
The park bench creaked and she felt the brush of fingertips against her shoulder. Her body tensed and she balled her hand into a fist. She swung, pulling back just in time to see a wide-eyed man sitting next to her with his hands raised.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled and she blinked. “I sat down, bad knees, and didn’t mean to brush up against you. I said sorry but I guess you didn’t hear me.”
Silva kept her hand raised. Her pulse raced, but she kept her outward appearance calm as she scanned her surroundings. She never heard him approach, never felt someone get close to her. A trait she had picked up because of what happened to her. Some scars left permanent damage and having to be painfully aware of your surroundings was one of them.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, trying to get her brain to process that this man wasn’t a threat to her and she should lower her hand.
She’d been so focused on Santino, she had slipped yet again, and given that there was a serial killer on the loose, she knew better than to let her guard down.
The statics about serial killer victims, or victims in general, were easily found on the internet. Those who weren’t aware of their surroundings, especially with their nose in their phones made easy targets. The quiet ones, too, had an easier time being taken.
The stranger smiled. “You sure? You still look like you want to hit me.” He nodded toward her raised hand.
She did still want to hit him.
She looked him over. He had a beard with hints of grey in it. His eyes were brown and wrinkled in the corners. He wore a pullover sweatshirt and denim jeans. He was wearing black boots and his palms had callouses on them, suggesting he worked with his hands. He seemed to take up all the space on the park bench even though he wasn’t that close to her.
“I’m Mark.” He tried to smile, and something about the way the corners of his lips twisted up made her feel queasy. She dropped her hand, but she didn’t feel safe. Her leg still bounced. She could feel her body gearing up to run or scream if need be.
The nightmare that brought her out here still lingered in the back of her mind, and Mark’s smile seemed to reignite what she sought to forget.
“Are you here with someone?” she found herself asking.There were empty benches throughout the park, no reason for him to sit near me.
“Yes,” he chuckled, pointing to the swing set. “She’s been wearing me out. Came to sit here to give my knee a breather and keep an eye on my niece.”
She took a quick glance toward the swing and saw two little girls—one with brown hair and one with blonde, shouting at each other about who could swing the highest—and her shoulders dropped.
I feel silly now.
“You here with the workout group?” He nodded toward a group of older women doing stretches.
“Nope. Just stopped from a run.” She shifted her body away from him, still feeling uncomfortable but silly because she viewed him as a threat.
“I used to run but tore my ACL, so now whatever cardio I get is from chasing my niece around.” Mark seemed to move on the bench and Silva suppressed an eye roll. He was going to keep talking to her. “You never told me your name.”
And I’m not going to.
She didn’t want to be rude, but she wasn’t in the mood to be friendly either.
“I don’t bite.” Mark’s knee nudged hers.
“And I’m not interested. I just came here to rest after my run.” She tried to keep her voice even, not wanting to cause a scene.
“And I’m just trying to be friendly. Talk to a pretty girl.” Mark moved closer, and she shifted, balling her hand into a fist, prepared to hit him if she couldn’t get him to see reason.
“And I’m telling you, I’m not interested,” she repeated, growing annoyed. Why couldn’t he take the hint? “How would you feel if your niece was in my position, and a man wouldn’t take the hint to leave her alone?”
“Is there a problem here?”
Silva’s breath left her in a whoosh and she leaned into the gentle touch at her shoulder. It should have alarmed her at how quickly her body felt safe at the sound of his voice and how elated she felt now that Santino showed up. But the visual recoil on Mark’s face was too good for her to care. She knew right then that he wouldn’t have left her alone until she made a scene.
“You okay, princess?” He kissed the top of her head, handing her coffee and a white paper bag. “Sorry I was late, the line at the coffee shop was a little long. Who’s your friend?” He angled his body so he was in front of her. It was a protective stance that shouldn’t have made her preen like a peacock behind him, but when was the last time she had anyone stand up for her?
“Mark.” He stood up. “Only sat down to catch my breath.” She watched him raise his palms again, his shoulders drawn in as if he were trying to make himself appear smaller against a bigger threat, and it made her want to punch him in his supposedly bad knees.
