Page 22 of A Forbidden Arrangement
I groan, ready to accept my fate of becoming one with the mat, when my phone buzzes from where I left it in my jacket draped across the ropes.
Adrenaline jolts through me. I haul myself up and grab it, every ache forgotten.
A message from the investigator I hired waits on the screen. My stomach drops as my pulse hammers.
Found her, but you’re not going to like it.
Chapter 11
Dahlia
“Don’t forget the pie case,”Connie says, slipping her purse strap over her shoulder. “And wipe the counter, count the drawer, turn the sign?—”
“I got it.” I tug the rag from her hand and wave her toward the door.
She doesn’t move. “Lock the storage room. The back freezer sticks sometimes. Jiggle it. Mr. Harlan nearly lost a box of steaks last week.”
“Connie.” I draw out her name, half laughing. “I promise. I’ll be fine.”
Her mouth opens like she might add one more thing.
I grab a chair, flip it onto a table with a clang. “See? Already on it. You can trust me.”
She sighs, mutters something about stubborn kids, and finally steps outside. The bell over the door gives one last halfhearted jingle as she leaves.
It takes about half an hour before I turn off the last light and lock the door. The rain has picked up, fine drops sinking into my coat before I reach the sidewalk. I pull it tighter and make a mental note to buy a thicker one before winter sets in.
The street’s dead. Stores closed, windows dark, nothing but the laundromat’s neon sign buzzing down at the corner. Even that looks tired. Anyone who’d normally be out is already holed up, hiding from the rain.
My footsteps sound too loud in the empty street. The quiet sits wrong, prickling up the back of my neck.
Ever since Elliot’s face showed up on that screen, the nightmares have been worse. Without fail, thinking about him drags me straight to Xander. The way he smiled, shaking hands with a murderer like it was nothing. My stomach knots, bile rising in my throat.
The truth I hate admitting, even to myself, is that Xander could be guilty of a dozen things I don’t even want to imagine. Still, my body remembers him. The weight of him pressed into me, the way he took control, how every touch burned until I came apart. He was the best sex of my life, and I can’t reconcile that with the possibility that he might be a killer. That the same hands that left me trembling could have ended someone else’s life without hesitation.
I have the freaking worst taste in men.Ever.
I keep my head down, counting the cracks in the sidewalk like it’ll get me home faster. My building’s just a block away, warm light spilling from the laundromat windows. Then a low hum cuts through the quiet. Tires rolling slowly on wet pavement.Tooslow. The sound creeps up behind me, steady and patient.
My chest tightens, fear rippling through me. I tell myself I’m being paranoid. When I look back, I’ll laugh at myself for being silly.
I turn my head just enough to see out of the corner of my eye without being too obvious, and I have to force myself not to react. A sleek black car shines under the streetlights, crawling in my direction.
It’s the same suspicious car from the other day.
I pick up my pace, and the hum grows closer. Then suddenly, the engine roars, headlights flare against the slick ground, and tires spit water as the car surges forward.
My body jerks sideways, nearly losing my balance as I jump out of the way, narrowly avoiding the hood.
A light post prevents the vehicle from following me, giving me a few more seconds to get away.
The sound of doors slamming shut behind me rings in my ears as the men get out. For a beat, it’s like I’ve slipped back into my nightmare, trapped in a never-ending maze, where no matter how fast I run, they always catch up.
Panic surges, and I bolt. My bag slams against my hip as I splash through puddles that soak straight through my shoes. Behind me, thudding boots hammer the street, each one closer than the last.
A hand snags my arm and yanks me back. Fingers clamp tight, burning into my skin. I twist, thrashing, but my head cracks against the corner of a building. Pain bursts white-hot across my temple, sharp enough to blur everything. The world pitches sideways, and for a breathless second, I don’t know which way is up.
I’m yanked forward, and I’m met by the familiar face that’s been haunting my dreams.
