Authors: Alex Grayson
“What about your family?” he asks, the anger now gone from his face. “Do you have any family in the area?”
Glancing down, I fiddle with my cloth napkin, before looking back at him.
“No,” I reply softly. “Both my parents are gone. No siblings. I have an aunt and uncle and a few cousins in Montana, but that’s it.”
“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely.
I’m surprised when Marc reaches over and grabs my hand, the one still messing with the napkin, and gives it a squeeze. I know it’s in comfort, but for some eerie reason it makes me uncomfortable, which is the first time I’ve felt that way with him.
I look to see his eyes resting on our hands, and they are lit with interest. I pull my hand away, but the uncomfortable feeling lingers. I’m not exactly sure what brought on the feeling, but it’s there. Maybe it was the look in his eyes when he looked down at our hands. It almost appeared lecherous, which is weird because it’s the first time since we’ve started talking that I’ve gotten any type of creepy vibe from him.
“Sorry,” he murmurs when he senses my discomfort.
The waiter walks up with our food and places the plates in front of us. She refills our wine glasses before she moves on. Silence stretches between us.
I pick up my fork when a little jingle starts. Marc leans to the side to pull his phone from his pocket, looks down at the screen and announces, “I’m sorry, I need to take this. I’ll only be a moment.”
“Of course,” I smile, trying to bring back some of the easygoing conversation we had before he touched me. “Take your time.”
He gets up from the table and walks away, just as I notice my phone inside my purse is flashing. I pull it out and look at the screen.
Sterling:
Don’t let him touch you again.
What the hell? I jerk my head and look around the restaurant. Most of the tables are occupied with couples quietly talking and laughing. I look over at the bar and see a man and woman leaning toward each other, talking intimately. The man has his hand on the woman’s back. There’s another woman by herself with her laptop open on the bar top. A lone man sits talking to the female bartender, and she laughs at something he says. I look around the rest of the room and see no one out of place or looking suspicious.
There is no way Sterling could know that Marc touched me unless he’s here. The fact that he’s so obviously watching me creeps me the fuck out. How in the hell did he know we were here in the first place?
Looking down at my phone, I type out a message.
Me:
Are you watching me right now?
It doesn’t take long before I get a reply.
Sterling:
I am. Do not let him touch you again, Poppy.
Although it’s a written message, I still feel the anger behind it. I look up from my phone and glance around the room again. Rolling my eyes, I look back to my screen.
Me:
Who in the hell do you think you are? You can’t just follow me around. And how did you know I was here?
Sterling:
I’ve already told you, Poppy, you’re mine. Other men don’t touch what’s mine. And I have my ways. There was no way I was letting you go out with that asshole without knowing where you were going. The only reason I let you go out with him in the first place was because I was going to be watching.
My blood is boiling at this point, and I’m starting to freak out. Him sending me flowers for months and then finally making contact is one thing, but to know he’s following me around is something else entirely. A tingle in the back of my head tells me this isn’t the first time either. If he can get my number and work address, then there’s no telling what else he’s privy to. He has to know where I live too. If he followed me here, what else is he willing to do? Oh my God, he knew I was getting in the shower last night.
I feel a prickle of awareness on the back of my neck, and I turn my head to look behind me. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, but I know he’s watching me. I can feel his eyes.
My phone vibrates again, causing me to jump in my seat.
Sterling:
Breathe, Poppy, and relax. I’m not going to hurt you.
A nervous laugh wants to bubble up at that, but I squeeze my eyes shut instead. What in the hell am I supposed to do now? I can’t just leave my date behind, but I don’t want to stay either. Only someone sick, twisted, and obsessed stalks someone, and this is
exactly
what he’s doing. It can’t be called anything else. Maybe I should call the cops, but can they really do anything? Would they think I instigated it by communicating with him? He really hasn’t done anything illegal, has he? I could probably show them the messages on my phone, but would that be enough?
I’m scared to look down at my phone when it vibrates again, but I put on my brave face and do so anyway.
Sterling:
Look.
Another text pops up immediately with a link.
I’m not sure why I click on it, but I find myself doing just that. It takes a minute for it to load, and when it does, my world tips upside down.
The Arizona State Corrections Department pops up with a picture of Marc’s face as he poses for his mugshot. Sweat starts to dot on my forehead as my shaky finger scrolls down. Bile rises in my throat at the list of things he was convicted of.
Sexual assault.
Battery.
Oh my God!
My gaze darts to the hallway Marc disappeared down. I can only see the mouth of it, so I can’t see him. I’ve got to get out of here.
Sterling sends another message, but I ignore it. I grab my purse off the table. With another quick look behind me at the hallway, I dash on wobbly legs toward the entrance. My heart races a mile a minute, and I almost trip twice in my heels in my haste to get out of the restaurant.
What in the hell is wrong with me? Why do I always pick the liars, weirdos, and criminals?
Sexual assault and battery!
That’s a new low for me.
Oh no!
He knows where I live now!
My sweaty palms grab the door handle, and I rush outside. Shit, I don’t have my car, but I need to get out of here. I could call a cab, but it would take too long.
I look down at my phone when it vibrates again.
Sterling:
There’s a car waiting for you. The black one.
I forgot all about Sterling. I lift my head and see a black Sedan at the curb with a middle-aged man holding the door open. He’s looking at me expectantly.
“Miss?”
Should I get in his car? Is he in there as well? Can I trust him? He’s been following me for God knows how long, and I still don’t know jack shit about him. Even though the following shit freaks me out, the thought of Marc coming out scares me more.
Sterling sends another message.
Sterling:
Get in the car, Poppy. It’s safe. I promise.
I take a tentative step toward the car, still unsure if I should. It’s either trust Sterling or take the chance of Marc finding me, and there’s no telling what he’ll do.
Sexual assault and battery are two convictions you don’t play around with. I may not know the details, but I’d rather not take the chance. According to the link, he was in prison for five years.
The door opens behind me, and I jump with a squeak, and quickly rush over to the open car door. As soon as I’m inside, the man closes it. A look out the window shows it was just a couple leaving the restaurant. I breathe a sigh of relief and lean against the soft leather seat.
I close my eyes, but immediately open them again to look around the car. I’m alone. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. On one hand, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with Sterling in person. I need time to take in the fact he’s been following me. But on the other hand, I’m still freaked out about Marc being a convicted felon. I have no way of knowing if he would have hurt me, but just the thought of being alone with him, in my home, after he hurt someone, makes me ill.
I look down at my phone and see another message from Sterling.
Sterling:
Lenny will take you home. Lock your doors. Marc won’t bother you.
Damn… what in the world did I get myself into here? I’m grateful to Sterling for showing me what he did about Marc, but I’d be stupid for trusting him. Why not just tell me about all this when we were messaging earlier? Why let me go out with a convicted criminal?
And how does he know Marc won’t bother me?
I don’t reply to Sterling’s message. Instead, I look to the front of the car where Lenny is driving. He has his eyes forward and he appears to be calm. Does he know what’s going on? I decide to fish for answers.
I curl my hands into fists and set them in my lap. I clear my throat before I attempt to talk.
“Lenny, right?” I ask, just to appear polite. I sit up further in my seat.
His eyes flicker to me in the mirror before looking back at the road.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Where are you taking me?”
Sterling said he was taking me home, but for all I know, he could have been lying. I want to see if their stories are straight.
“Home,” he replies.
I look around and it appears he’s right, or at least it looks like it. There are a lot of places I could be taken to between here and home.
“How do you know where I live?”
“I was told.”
Wow, this guy is so full of information. I staunch my eye roll.
“And who told you?” I continue to quiz him, hoping he’ll give something up.
“My boss.”
“And who is your boss?” I watch him through the rearview mirror. Besides the initial eye flick my way, he never takes his eyes off the road.
“I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am.”
I sit back, cross my arms over my chest, and mutter, “This is ridiculous.”
“What was that, Miss?”
“Nothing.” I look out the window at the passing scenery. “Actually, you know what? Just drop me off here. I can call for a cab.”
I catch him looking at me in the mirror when he says, “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want a ride from someone I don’t know,” I say snidely.
It’s not Lenny’s fault, but I’m beyond caring at this point.
“Ma’am, I was told to get you home safely, and that’s what I intend to do.”
“And what if I decide to call the cops? What then?”
“If that’s what you need to do, I can’t stop you, but the fact remains, I will be making sure you get home safely.”
I huff out a breath. Stubborn, stupid man. Both him and Sterling. They really are a pair. I may not know Sterling, but I can tell he’s the type of man that gets what he wants. It’s in his words when he messages me. It’s not just a cocky attitude, it’s a fact. I’m sure he never takes no for an answer, and will probably fight whatever that gets in his way when it comes to something he wants. And for some reason, he wants me.
I don’t say anything more to Lenny. It wouldn’t do any good. His lips are sealed regarding his boss. I have to admire the loyalty, even if it is aggravating and keeping me from getting what
I
want.
Twenty minutes later, we pull up outside my house. I don’t bother thanking Lenny for the ride. It’s not like he did it out of the kindness of his heart. Nope, his
boss
told him to take me home. I know I’m being bitchy, but damn, I think right now I have every right to be.
Once I’m locked inside my house, I look out the window and see Lenny pull away from the curb. I let the curtain fall back to cover the window.
My house is quiet, and I feel a shiver rush up my spine. I’ve never been afraid of living alone, but now I’m getting the heebie jeebies. The house it too quiet. The sun has almost set, so it’s getting dark inside. I flip the light switch on to my left and my foyer lights up, but it doesn’t help. I walk to every room of the house and flick on every light. Only then do I feel marginally better. I kick my heels off in my closet and move next to take off my jewelry.
I want so badly to call Liv and tell her about tonight and get her advice, but she’s away with Tony on their special getaway. There’s no way I’ll interrupt that. It can wait until she gets back.
Walking back to the living room, I pull my phone from my purse that’s on the back of the couch. I take a seat and pull my legs up beside me.
Me:
You obviously researched my date. Why in the hell did you let me go out with him if you knew he was a convicted criminal?
I sit and stew as I wait for his reply. I can’t believe he acted so flippant last night when I told him I was going on a date, when he knew all along that the man was convicted for sexual assault and battery. Does he not realize how bad tonight could have been? Or does he just not care that much?
Sterling:
Because I didn’t get the report until right before I messaged you. I had to dig deeper. The fucker’s records were locked tight.
That makes me feel a little better, but not much. This night could have ended so much worse than what it did. I am, however, grateful that he did message me as soon as he found out.