by Casey Diam
In slow motion, I exited the bathtub, dried myself, and slipped into shorts and a tank. My body remained on high alert as I went to my door to listen to the other side. After two minutes of listening and not hearing anything, I went to lay down.
As I was about to drift off, I could feel them. Climbing the fire escape, dressed in all black, moving with precision from years of practice, years of patience, waiting for the right moment to come back and finish what they’d started. At the sound of a door closing, I reached for the compact 9mm under my extra pillow and scrambled out of bed. Whatever happened, I needed to see them coming. Needed to stay vigilant.
Normal people called it paranoia. I called it advantage. Because I could feel it in my gut. They’d found me. They were coming. I used to pray that the men who had killed my family would get caught. Some days, I wished I could kill them myself. I hadn’t had the heart to do it back then, and I still didn’t know if I had the heart. The one thing I knew was that it was safer to keep running, even with the constant battle in my head.
The sane voice encouraged, It’s time to pack up and go, while the revenge-centered voice crooned, Stay this time. You are ready. They did this to you. Take back what they took from you.
Inhaling, I pushed my curtains aside. Nothing in the darkened alley. Walking to my front door, I lifted the paper covering the peephole. No one I could see in the empty hallway. I turned my back to the corner between the coat closet and front door and slid down to the floor, gun still in my hand and knees to my chest.
I could run as fast as I could and never escape the fear.
Fear would always find me because it was threaded deep inside me.
Chapter Three
* * *
Caleb
As two baristas hustled behind the coffee shop’s counter, fulfilling orders for the morning zombies streaming inside, I pulled my phone from my pocket and waited for my name to be called. Last night had been the longest fucking night I’d had in a while.
Scrubbing a hand over my eyes, I scrolled through my Contacts and clicked on Calvin’s name and shot off a text.
Me: Eyes have to be on her at all times. We need to work out a schedule.
I looked over at the people placing their orders.
The first thing I saw was the honey-blonde waves caught in a ponytail and then the tiny, silver loop pierced on the innermost part of her ear. Her head turned, and before I could look away, her eyes captured mine. A couple of seconds passed, enough to make me come to the conclusion that either she liked what she saw or she was trying to figure out why I was staring. And, after keeping watch on a roof all night, I was sure I wasn’t shit to look at, so it had to be the latter.
The cashier tried to get her attention, but her eyes were still on me, almost as if she didn’t realize she was doing it.
Smiling, I pointed to the cashier. She seemed to snap out of what had just happened, breaking the spell. Curious, I continued to observe her handing the money over to the cashier. My eyes traveled down her plain attire—oversized hoodie, leggings, sneakers, backpack.
It was her.
Her name was Paige Wells; that was all I knew. And there was no way for her to know who I was, so I was even more intrigued by her staring.
Slightly turning my head, I caught a glimpse of her standing a few feet behind me. She was looking down, but then she looked up, and our eyes held again. I looked away as my body became aware of her, desire streamed through my veins and I inhaled. She might not have dressed with the intention to impress anyone, but she was fucking stunning.
Fuck, I shouldn’t be attracted to her.
Unable to stop the pull, I turned my head again. She was still looking at me, a bit of uncertainty and then a hint of shyness as she realized she had been caught staring. She looked away.
“Caleb,” the barista called out. “Egg and cheese and a large coffee.”
My gut twisted. Not only did she know my name, but she also knew what I looked like now. My father was right about one thing, but fuck him. He was the reason I had been up all night, watching her.
I picked up my coffee, started to head out, and then stopped and turned. Just like a magnet, our eyes met once more. I smiled at her and shook my head. This time, she smiled and turned away.
What the fuck?
I drew in a long breath at the very stupid thing I was about to do.
I sat at an unoccupied table, my back to the door, because, let’s face it, I couldn’t leave.
Paige grabbed her drink from the counter, and as she approached, she walked a few feet away from the table where I was sitting, obviously on purpose, as she had to pass me to get to the door.
I said, “Have coffee with me.”
She ignored my request, maybe pretending not to hear.
This was even riskier, but I said, “Paige.”
She stopped and turned, and this time, with her proximity, I could see her baby-blue eyes. But they were bloodshot, as if she’d been up all night, like I had been.
“Why?” she asked.
So, she had heard me.
“Why not?” I returned.
“How do you know my name?”
“What? Don’t tell me I was the only one paying attention to the barista when you put in your order.” With her hesitance, I snatched the beanie from my head and let a smile spread across my lips, cocky and so unlike me, but I had to get her attention. “It’s the beanie, isn’t it?”
A man walked by, and she stepped out of the way and toward me. “I have to go, Caleb.”
She had been paying attention, too.
“I get it. You have a boyfriend. It explains your eyes.” This statement was personal but could be useful in what I needed to find out. But an even stronger need was to know if she was single.
Her eyebrows crinkled. “What?”
“They’re red. Your eyes.”
She’d entered the apartment by herself, but she had to have a boyfriend. Although, what asshole would let their girlfriend walk alone that late at night? A bitter taste formed in my mouth as I thought about her staying up, having sex all night with someone I didn’t know about yet.
Shit, I’m coming off too strong.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . I just . . . I notice things. And I can tell you’re not going to sit. That you’re just going to walk right through that door and hope you never again run into the creepy guy you met in a coffee shop.”
She bit her lip. “You seem to know a lot about me.”
I didn’t know shit about her—at least, not yet.
“Maybe you should sit so I could tell you more.”
She smiled, sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and sat in the chair across from me.
Fuck me, I didn’t expect her to do that. Dad will lose his shit if he finds out.
Paige’s eyes.
Her eyes.
Fuck.
I couldn’t look away. Her eyes were striking. At the same time, they pulled me into something dark and haunted but so mesmerizing.
“So, tell me more about me.” She popped the lid off the coffee cup, and steam emerged.
I watched her set the lid on a piece of napkin. “You’re tired,” I said.
She nodded and smiled. “A little.”
“You didn’t get anything to eat.”
“It’s six thirty in the morning.”
“Still, you can have half of my sandwich if you want.”
Her smile grew wider. “No, thank you.”
We couldn’t stop smiling at each other. It was the strangest fucking thing.
“All right, Paige, let’s get to it. Judging from your backpack, you’re a student.”
“That’s too easy. Tell me what you really know about me, Caleb.”
I rested my head in my hand as I observed her. “You like pop music.” I thought about the small piercing I’d glimpsed on the innermost cartilage fold of her ear. “But the edgier stuff, too. Maybe alternative. Rock. You like chick flicks. If you’re watching
a movie or reading a book, you love a happily ever after.” I thought about her leggings and how they clung to her shapely thighs. “And you love to work out.” Her eyes widened a bit, and I grinned. “Am I actually right?”
“Maybe. Maybe I don’t want you to know anything about me.”
Paige brought the cup to her mouth and leaned back in her chair. She looked so tired. I had the urge to sweep her into my arms and carry her back to bed.
“Let me see your phone.”
“I’m not giving you my number. Remember, creepy guy in café.”
I grinned. “Right, but you should take my phone number. I don’t want yours. If you want to know more about me or if you’re a bit intrigued and you want me to tell you more about Paige, you’ll have a way to contact me. Completely up to you because I won’t have your number.”
“There’s really no point in that. I’m not going to call you.”
She was confident, so sure of herself. That made my lips twitch with a grin.
“But you’ll want to.”
After a moment, she moved her phone over to me.
And as I slid it back to her on the table, her eyes inspected the device like it wasn’t her own.
She was afraid. I understood. I didn’t like people knowing anything about me either. It was why I could read her so well—and not about the crap I’d fed her, but from the haunted look in her eyes. Her guard had slipped, but so had mine, which meant, for the brief second it’d happened, she had seen me, too.
Chapter Four
* * *
Paige
Caleb had been on my mind all day. He shouldn’t have been, but something about him pulled at me, even during my busy shift at the bar on a Friday night. But, since it was my fifteen-minute break, it meant I had time to think about him. And I was trying really hard not to since my first impression of Caleb had been that he was one of them.
He fit the description of a lethal man. Tall, stoic, and muscles not even a long-sleeved sweater could hide. His beanie had been pulled so low, it covered his ears. I was always suspicious of these kinds of men. But then he’d smiled at me, and I had been thrown off. In the years I’d lived in fear of them finding me, I’d never imagined them to be the smiling kind.
“Ugh.” Chelsey breathed, dropping into a chair at the small table across from me.
She was the stunning, long-legged bartender I assisted on most days and my closest friend. Well, as close as I’d let her get. We were always both too busy working to have a normal friendship. So, apart from hanging out once every month or so, we bonded behind the bar. I ensured the glasses were cleaned, the garbage was empty, and the kegs were full while she ensured the drinks tasted good and the clients were happy.
I smiled. “Well, you’re back here, so that’s a good sign.”
“I know, but it’s going to pick back up any second.” She leaned forward, positioning her elbows on the break table with her smartphone in front of her face. “Ian is planning something for my birthday; I just know it. But I don’t know what it is yet. Has he said anything to you?”
I grinned. “You mean, in the two seconds I see him when he comes to pick you up from work?”
“Smart-ass,” Chelsey uttered, getting up to grab her purse from the locker. “Did you work a shift at the gym today? You look tired, more than usual.”
“So I’ve heard,” I muttered as Caleb’s brown eyes and messy black hair came to mind. “But no. Just a long night. Although, I did spend a few hours working out before my shift here.”
“Seriously, I don’t know how you do it.” She set her purse down, pulled out a mirror, and reapplied her bright red lipstick. “That weirdo has been asking about you again.”
“Mark?” I face-palmed myself. “He’s, like, thirty.”
“Yeah.” Chelsey laughed. “But he’s also one of our biggest tippers.”
“That means you should let him down the easy way. If I tell him, our tips might stop coming.” I chuckled, remembering another lurker I’d given a bloody nose after he grabbed my ass.
Chelsey threw her head back, laughing. I assumed the same memory was playing in her head.
“That was a great night. You never did take up John’s offer for the security position.”
“Shut up. That isn’t funny. Anyway, my break’s over,” I said, standing and shoving my phone into the back pocket of my jeans.
It was college night, and after St. Andrews won against Dodson, the bar was rowdier than usual. Dodson, the losing university, was the school I attended.
My part-time position as a bar runner at Stilts was my second and most important job. For one, it was physically demanding, which posed as a distraction to it—the crippling thoughts that could take over my mind at any given second. This job also paid more than the gym, so I had money for my rent and an extracurricular activity. Precisely, my membership at the gun range.
Before I’d left my community home at eighteen, I had been told about a college fund that had been set aside for me. That confused me more because, supposedly, Leanne and David Sawyer weren’t my real parents as everyone had kept telling me; they were my kidnappers. So I’d decided against accessing the fund even though I was struggling to pay tuition. It might have been stupid to turn down free money, but I knew the men could find me that way. And not only that, but I’d also started to question everything about my past when I was in the community home because, if there was the smallest chance these people were my kidnappers, I didn’t want any of their hand-me-downs.
But I still didn’t want to believe it. My parents wouldn’t have kidnapped me.
“Shit. Paige!” said the new bartender. “I need you to change out the ice.”
It was the second time tonight she’d broken a glass in the ice bin, but I didn’t mind the extra hassle. It kept me busy.
“Got it.” I finished rinsing the glass in hand and then stacked it.
I went over to the ice bin. Pulling out a bucket I’d stashed under the counter because I knew the high chance of the incident happening again, I began to scoop ice into the bucket. After rushing through the cleaning process and refilling the ice bin with fresh ice, I pulled a filled garbage bag from the container and emptied it in the back alley’s dumpster. As I turned and hurried to get inside, back to the bar, I bumped into someone. Not bumped, but more like ran into a brick wall that was also human. A human brick wall.
What the hell?
Coming to my senses, I stepped back to gain a better stance and apologize. But he was gone. As fast as he’d obstructed my path, he’d disappeared. The only people in the back alley were a group of five smokers—two males, and one possibly the human brick wall. But they were turned away from me, and it was too dark to make out any of them. A chill shot down my spine, and I hurried to the back door, yanking it open.
Shaking the nerves crawling over me, I distracted myself—changing kegs, grabbing cases of beer, collecting and washing all the glasses, replenishing liquors in the well, wiping down the counters, refilling garnish trays, washing more glasses, refilling the ice bin, and emptying the trash . . . damn it.
“Paige,” a male called over the loud music and chatter in the bar.
I turned to see Chelsey’s boyfriend, Ian, who was waving at me from across the counter. Holding up a finger in a signal for him to wait, I grabbed the trash and headed to the back door. Ian was a lifesaver, only because I needed him. Chelsey had told me that she suspected he’d been cheating on her due to his change in behavior over the past year. Like him blowing her off when she needed him. But like everyone else, he was on my Do Not Trust list—though temporarily cleared for the few minutes it would take for me to throw this bag in the dumpster.
He followed me to the back, and after lobbing the bag up into the dumpster, I walked over to him.
“What’s up?”
“Chelsey’s birthday. We’re throwing her a surprise party.”
“Really? Nice. Where?”
Parties—or any social event for that matt
er—weren’t my thing. Places like those are where people talked and bonded, and I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay in the shadows where I was less likely to be noticed. But Chelsey was my closest friend, so it was either I sucked it up when it came to the few times she wanted to hang out each year or lose her.
“Our apartment.”
“Cool. I’ll stop by. You’ll have to give me the address, though.” I pulled my phone from my pocket.
“You’ve known each other for two years,” Ian said.
“So?”
He shook his head, taking my phone. “You girls are weird.”
“Not weird. We are cool that way.”
“If you say so.” He stared down, entering the address on the screen. “Are you still single?”
His question caught me by surprise. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re a great friend to her.” He handed my phone to me and touched my chin before he dropped his hand to his side. “And a cute girl.”
I paused, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.
There was either something seriously wrong with the atmosphere in the alley or I was losing it. No, he’d touched me. Guys didn’t just do that. I might be inexperienced but not so much that I didn’t know when I was being hit on. Or was I being delusional? I—no. My chest tightened, butchering my oxygen flow.
Everything today had been strange.
The mysterious Caleb. Running into the human brick wall who disappeared, and now, thinking my best friend’s boyfriend is flirting with me. What was wrong with me?
I hurried by Ian, muttering, “I won’t say anything about the party.”
I needed to try to get some sleep when I got off work, but if I was already like this, tonight wouldn’t be a good night for sleep either.
