Page 41 of Down Knot Out
And no sign of Chloe.
Chapter Twelve
Chloe
As Dominic heads for my kitchen, I walk toward the door, tracing my finger over the delicate shamrock pendant. The happiness that spreads through me at this domesticity leaves me floating.
How did he notice how much I missed my old necklace? I hadn’t mentioned it to any of the guys.
I remember everything about you.
I shiver as his words from earlier replay in my mind. He certainly recalls how to kiss me in a way that curls my toes. What other details has he stored away, waiting for the right moment to bring them back into the light?
The knock on the door reminds me of what I’m supposed to be doing, and I quicken my steps, eager to be back on the couch with Dominic.
I fish my wallet from my purse hanging on the coat rack. The peephole shows a figure in a delivery uniform, their baseball cap showing the Indian restaurant’s logo.
My attention returns to Dominic in the kitchen as I swing the door open. “Hi, thank y?—”
An artificial vanilla-and-pine stings my nostrils, cutting off my words. My body recognizes the scent before my brain does, instinct screaming danger before conscious thought can catch up.
“Hello, Chloe.”
My head whips around, my pink hair slapping my cheek. The wallet slips from my fingers and thuds onto the floor.
Simon Sullivan stands in my doorway, his thin frame swimming in a delivery uniform that doesn’t belong to him. Limp, dirty-blond hair sticks out from beneath the cap pulled low over his forehead, and his obsessive brown eyes peer out from beneath the brim.
The weak chin with its scraggly goatee attempts to give his face definition but fails. His bolo tie, with its blue stone that matches the description from my book series, peeks out from beneath the uniform collar.
My mouth opens to scream for Dominic, but before the sound emerges, Simon’s hand closesaround my wrist. One violent yank pulls me into the hallway. I stumble, my sock-covered feet sliding on the polished hallway floor.
“What are you—” My words cut off as my back hits the wall opposite my apartment door, the air punching from my lungs.
“We need to go.” The words sound rehearsed, and his grip tightens around my wrist, grinding the delicate bones.
I try to wrench my arm away, but his grip is iron. “Let me go!” I twist toward my open apartment door, desperate to be heard. “Dominic!”
Simon yanks me down the hallway toward the elevator. My socks slide and catch on the carpet, and I almost fall face-first.
“You don’t understand.” Simon’s focus darts from me to the end of the hall. “I’m saving you.”
“I don’t need saving!” I dig my heels in, finally getting traction. “Dominic! Help!”
Simon spins to face me, his face crumpling into a wounded and dangerous expression. “Don’t say his name.” His fingers dig deeper, and I wince at the pain. “He doesn’t deserve you. None of them do.”
The elevator doors stand open at the end of the hall, a brick preventing them from closing. He planned this.
“Simon, please.” I switch tactics, softening my voice. “You’re hurting me.”
His grip loosens enough not to bite, but his forward momentum continues. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. But we need to leave now, before he comes.”
My throat constricts with fear. The confrontation with him in the woods was unsettling, but this is a new level of danger.
“Why are you doing this?” I try to slow our progress toward the elevator.
“Because they’re all using you. I’ve seen it,” Simon insists. “I’ve been watching. I know what they want.”
At the revelation that he’s still been watching me, my stomach churns. “Simon, I?—”
