Page 48 of Hide and Seek
And with that, I end the call, more determined than ever to get to the bottom of this shit and figure out who the fuck has been messing with my girl.
17
HARPER-RAYN
Embarrassment plagues me as I watch the footage of me climbing into the refrigeration unit for the millionth time. How could I have been so stupid? I was crying in a freezer, terrified for my life, all while Vincent made his way around the morgue, minding his business as he mopped the floors and straightened up my desk.
I should be stronger than that, but this stalker has turned me into a mess, and Knight probably had to call in a favor to get the footage of the biggest false alarm known to man. I’m humiliated. Not to mention, he had to deal with me showing up on his doorstep in shambles for no reason.
I’m sure that when he looks at me now, all he sees is a scared little girl, lost in her own paranoia. He’s a freaking SWAT officer at the top of his game, and I’m a joke. I need to be cared for because a janitor at work unknowingly sent me into a blind panic.
This asshole stalker has turned me into a laughing stock.
I suppose my time with Knight was fun while it lasted. There’s no way he’s going to touch me now. I don’t exactly know what type of women he goes after, but I know he doesn’t deal with other people’s drama. And right now, I have an abundance of it.
Oh no. He probably thinks I’m my mother reborn.
The very thought sends a stabbing pain shooting through my stomach. With one hand cupped over my mouth, I jump out of bed and scramble to my bathroom. Just as my knees hit the ground in front of the toilet, I proceed to throw up every last scrap of food in the pit of my stomach.
A sheer layer of sweat coats my forehead, and I roll my ass straight into the shower, needing to somehow pull myself together, but with all the bullshit currently going on and the new addition of Detective Gray suddenly appearing suspicious, I don’t know if I have what it takes.
I sit shivering in the bottom of the shower as the water takes far too long to warm up, but once it does, it’s fucking scalding. I spring to my feet, frantically adjusting the temperature as my ass takes the brunt of the hot water.
Today is not my day—apart from the mind-blowing sex I had on Knight’s kitchen counter this morning. That was pretty freaking amazing, but everything since that has been nothing but a downward spiral.
After leaving Knight a spicy message on his home security camera, I took my ass home, got ready for work, and just as I was about to get in my car, Knight’s call came in. After that, I did what I could to hold my head high and head to work with the intention of catching up on work, but Dr. McKullan was quick to reprimand me for slacking in the first place.
I promptly fell apart in the bathroom, and I don’t just mean a handful of tears here and there; I’m talking snot running down my face. It was mortifying. My face was blotchy and red, and myeyes were puffy and sore, but there’s no denying that I deserved it.
By the time I pulled myself together and walked back into the morgue, I looked like a natural disaster had aimed every ounce of its destruction at me. I was a mess. Hell, I looked like a group of men had run a train on me. Only, it wasn’t a domestic train taking me from city to city, this was a long-haul, international-type train.
I’m not typically someone who cries. I despise tears. They make me feel weak, and yet these past few days have turned me into a complete wreck. I don’t recognize myself right now. I don’t feel as though anything is right. I like my independence. I like feeling as though I have my shit together. I’ve prided myself on how I’ve built a life and a career without anybody’s help, and day by day, I’m crumbling.
I stay in the shower until the water runs cold, and honestly, it’s not that long. My apartment has the worst water heater known to man. It makes taking long, dragged-out showers impossible—unlike at Knight’s place where I could stand under the hot water for what seemed like a century. It was incredible.
After wrapping a towel around myself and heading to get dressed, my phone rings from somewhere on my bed, and I hurry across the room to answer it, hoping it might be Knight, Izzy, or even Laith. When I pick it up and see my mother’s name across the screen, a heavy disappointment pounds through my veins.
I immediately silence the call before tightening my towel around my chest, not having the energy or the will to find something comfortable to wear to bed. That is future Harper’s problem—as is dealing with my mother. I’ve already had a rough day. I don’t need to make it worse.
After swiping away the notification, I go to flop down onto my bed, but something across the room catches my eye. My headwhips up to my dresser, and there, sitting among the mess of makeup, cheap jewelry, and skin care is the bloodied black rose I’d pulled out of the victim’s chest cavity.
I suck in a petrified gasp, my eyes widening in fear, and just as my body starts to violently shake, movement in my full-length mirror steals my attention. My gaze snaps across the room to the mirror, and fear cripples me as I take in the masked man hovering right behind me.
A heavy scream rips out of me, terror pounding through my veins as I go to run, but he’s too quick. He steps into my back and braces one hand over my mouth, muting the sound of my cries as he pulls me in hard against his chest.
He’s massive. Must be at least six-foot-four. Maybe six-five. And the strength radiating from his body is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Trying to break out of his grasp is a waste of time. He’s a fucking machine, built of pure muscle and malice.
Tears roll down my cheek as he holds me still, and his other hand reaches for the towel as I feel his laser-sharp stare on me through my full-length mirror. My chest heaves, panic infecting me as I watch him closely.
He’s wearing all black: tactical pants, boots, a shirt that accentuates his muscular build. His shoulders and chest are broad, and I can only wonder what’s hidden beneath that terrifying mask. It’s somewhat of a gothic skull, but its jaw is wide open with sharp, talon-like fangs.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
The man leans in even closer, his lips just a breath from my ear as I try to focus on anything but the intoxicating scent coming off him. He smells like my darkest desires, and it fucks with my head. I shouldn’t want to feel how his hands feel on my body. Shouldn’t want him to have his wicked way with me, and yet, despite my overwhelming fear, if that’s what he wanted, I’d give it to him in a heartbeat.
“We’re going to play a game, kitten.”
His voice is like velvet, addictive and mesmerizing, every syllable sending shivers sailing across my skin. He releases the knot in my towel, letting it fall to the ground until I’m standing naked in his arms. While I know I should run, or scream, or put up a fight, I can’t help but want to please him—even if I have no idea what his endgame is.
