Page 74 of Concealed

Now I need a plan.

But the first step is getting home.

My legs finally comply with the demand from my brain to move, and I’m running at breakneck speed. If Matt’s behind me, he won’t be able to keep up. I’ve always been able to run faster than him – a small blessing.

So, even if he is following me, theoretically I can get home and behind a locked door before he can grab me.

But a locked door has never stopped him before.

Jesus.

Unlike the trip to the beach, my surroundings on the way back home are ignored. Everything is a blur because I’m running so fast, my legs developing a mind of their own as I push past my limit. Sweat covers my skin, and I’m breathing so hard that it’s impossible to speak.

Gabe is still talking, but I have no idea what he’s saying. His voice is a comfort, though. Someone knows where I am and what’s going on. He’ll send help if I get disconnected for any reason, and everything is going to be okay.

I’m fine.

This is fine.

Wyatt’s front door is a beacon of light, of hope, and I’m moving so fast that I nearly crash through it in my desperate haste to get it open. I don’t dare to pause or to look behind me. I just throw myself inside, slamming the deadbolt with a satisfying crack.

The house is dark since the sun has nearly set, and I dash around the main level turning on all the lights. I don’t know why people think bad things only happen in the dark. I know firsthand that sense of security is false because Matt terrorized me no matter what time the clock read.

But the brightness still gives me some much-needed comfort.

“What time will Wyatt be home?”

Gabe.

His voice is still in my ears.

No matter how much of a shitty friend I’ve become, that man never lets me down.

“I don’t know,” I admit, my words coming through ragged pants of breath as I try to slow my body processes down. “He has a task force thing tonight. He’ll probably be really late. So late that it’s early.”

And I’ll be sitting up waiting for the metallic click of his key in the lock and that wonderful, welcome tear of Velcro.

“Do you want to stay on the phone until he gets home?” Gabe asks softly.

And I do.

More than anything.

But it’s not a reasonable request.

“That will be hours,” I say. “It’s okay. Just… Stay on with me while I lock all the doors and windows.”

For the first time, I wonder if Wyatt has an extra gun in the house. Not that I know how to use one, but if Matt showed his face here, I’d sure as shit try.

I close and lock all the windows and repeat the process on the patio door. The glass patio door that someone could just smash if they wanted inside badly enough.

“All good?” Gabe asks.

“I’m a disaster,” I sob.

“I’m going to call Wyatt. He’ll come right home.”

“No!” I cry. “This work thing is really important to him, and I’m home behind locked doors. I’m okay. Really, it’s fine.”

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