Page 24 of A Very Rossi Christmas
The flash of gunmetal in his waistband as he pulled at his shirt just enforced that thought.
I started moving quickly over the ground, my eyes on the man in question and my fingers on the stock of the switchblade I always carried. I couldn't take him yet, though he was within my throwing range. I wasn't going to kill him without knowing who and what he was.
But I wanted to be ready, just in case.
Because that guy, whoever he was, was a whole lot closer to the house than I was. And he was already on the move toward her front door.
14
SLOANE
CHRISTMAS EVE BY MYSELF
I stripped out of the coat I'd been wearing, and the shirt, and then the jeans, which suddenly felt too tight and constricting.
Fucking Caleb. I hadn't been expecting him tonight, of all nights. It was Christmas Eve! Didn't he have anything better to do than find the restaurant where I happened to be studying— courtesy of Ally's agreeing to wait tables tonight, which she'd told her manager she'd do only if I could tag along—and attacking me?
Not that he'd attacked me. Not precisely. No, he'd just given me the same song and dance he'd given me so many times before. All the reasons we were supposedly meant to be together, all the things he'd done wrong and was sorry for. I wondered if he was including everything—the cheating, the always trying to talk to my father without telling me, the tendency to drink too much—or if he thought his only mistake had been whatever finally drove me far enough away that he couldn't reach me anymore.
I wasn't proud of having stayed with him for so long. My friends had been telling me to ditch him for months before I finally did, and deep down, I'd known he was bad news. But I'd also been so busy at the time, trying to finish up my senior year, and Caleb had seemed...
Like an afterthought, honestly. I'd had other, more important things on my mind.
Now that he was back, though, and sporting what seemed to be a sharper tongue and a hotter temper, with a helping of stalking on the side, I was starting to feel unbalanced.
Him grabbing my wrist and jerking at me tonight had brought back a whole lot of bad memories, and it hadn't been rocket science to decide that I'd had enough studying for the night and was going to spend the rest of Christmas Eve by myself. Brooks wasn't here, of course. She'd said something about a Christmas Eve party and had gone out earlier dressed as an elf, and though I didn't remember her saying anything about staying out all night, I certainly wasn't expecting her back anytime soon.
In the end, I thought, a night at home alone, with some peace and quiet and maybe a bit of Christmas music—maybe even falling asleep in front of the Christmas tree in the living room— sounded like a pretty glorious way to spend the night before the big holiday. I'd never had a problem being by myself.
The truth was, after a lifetime of always being surrounded by people, being by myself was sort of heavenly.
I was turning around, smiling and trying to decide which pajamas to wear, when I caught sight of something that shouldn't have been there. A piece of movement in my peripheral. Where there shouldn't have been movement.
Where there shouldn't have beenanything.
I spun and dropped to my knees, my hand shooting out for the bag I'd dropped at the foot of the bed and the gun it contained. And there, standing in my doorway, was Caleb Massimo.
Wearing a truly ugly expression that combined lust and something that looked a whole lot like triumph.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, taking a step forward with every word. "Look what we have here. Been awhile since I've seen you in so little, Sloane. You been working out."
I would have snarled at him if I'd had the time, but I was too busy trying to figure out how he'd gotten into the house and whether I'd ever told him that I carried a gun with me almost everywhere I went.
If he didn't know that, this was going to be a whole lot easier. If he did, and he figured it was in the bag that suddenly felt about a million miles away, I was going to be in trouble.
"That," I told him sharply, "is precisely none of your business, Caleb. We're not together anymore, remember?"
He moved so quickly that I didn't even see the start of it, and I'd just registered that he was coming toward me when he'd already arrived, jerking me up from my stance, wrapping his fingers around my throat, and shoving me backward.
"That's the thing," he hissed. "I don't remember ever agreeingnotto be together. Seems to me that was a decision you came to all on your own, without asking me about it first."
I fought against the urge to struggle, knowing it would only make him tighten his grip. "That's the way breakups work, Caleb," I said quietly. "They're not exactly up for a vote. One person decides they want out, and..." I shrugged, keeping it casual and almost flirtatious.
Hoping he'd decide I wasn't a danger. Hoping he'd let go of me, so I didn't have to hurt him getting away.
Because I was going to get away. I'd taken enough self-defense classes to know exactly what to do about the current situation. But it would be messy, and I was guessing he had a gun. I didn't exactly want to get away from his hands just to get shot.
He sneered at me again, his fingers still wrapped around my throat. "It seems we disagree on that point," he muttered. "Though that's not actually why I'm here."
