“What?” she gasped, her gaze lifting to his.

Gabe stared—well, more like he glared down at her. “I saw the sheets after you left. There was blood on them.”

Oh my God, the blood rushed from her face and then swept back to her cheeks so quickly she feared she might have a stroke. At that moment, it seemed entirely possible.

“Did I hurt you?” he demanded again.

“No.” And that wasn’t a lie. Not really. It hurt, but from what she knew, it tended to hurt the first time.

What appeared to be relief flickered across his face as he briefly closed his eyes.

She drew in a shallow breath. “It’s just, you know—”

“No.” That relief was gone, replaced by anger. “I don’t know, Nic.”

Really? She looked away, telling herself that she was an adult and she could have this conversation, because he was right. She did owe him this. “I was a virgin—”

“Yeah, I kind of figured that part out,” he interrupted, his voice so hard it could break a board. “Seemed like more blood than there should be. Then again, I’ve never made it a habit of fucking virgins, so I’m a little inexperienced in that department.”

Nikki flinched. Of course he wouldn’t make that a habit. Gabe was a good guy. One of the best. “I don’t know what to say, but you didn’t hurt me.”

A muscle thrummed along his jaw. “I don’t believe that for one fucking second.”

She looked up, her eyes wide as she focused on his shoulder. “You didn’t, Gabe.”

He leaned his head in as he placed his hands on the counter, on either side of her hips. Within a second, he’d gotten all up in her space. “I don’t remember much about that night,” he started.

Nikki flinched again, because she remembered everything about that night. Everything. And wasn’t that the gut punch? It had been all she ever wanted, and he hadn’t even remembered most of it.

He hadn’t even known it was her.

“Just bits and pieces,” he continued. “But what I do remember? I sure as hell didn’t treat you like someone who’d never had sex.”

That part was also true. Gabe had not held back and he was large. It had been . . . intense, to say the least.

“So, when I remember those parts and that blood? Yeah, I’m going to wonder if I hurt you.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t.” Her gaze dropped to his right hand. His knuckles were bleached white from how tight he was gripping the end of the counter. “Gabe, I am so—”

“Sorry?” he queried softly. “Are you seriously going to apologize to me?”

“Well, yes. I actually apologized to you that morning. Profusely, if I remember correctly—”

“Oh, I remember that.” His eyes were like sheets of ice. “But not sure how an apology is adequate for what happened.”

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. “But I need to.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I am sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

Nothing about him softened. Not that she expected her apology to do so. “Do you even know how bad things could’ve gone?”

“I—”

“No,” he said, and Nikki quieted. “You didn’t give me a chance to say shit to you. Not in four years. Not when I tried to call you. Not when I tried to make sure you weren’t fucking hurt. You disappeared when you left for college. Dropped off the face of the planet and never came back.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” she asked. “Because I am pretty sure at one point that morning that you never wanted to see ‘my fucking face’ again.” A knot expanded at the back of her throat. It still hurt to even think about how he had looked at her, how utterly disgusted he’d been. “I remember you saying that.”

He didn’t respond to that.

“I also remember you telling me I dis—”

“I remember that,” he bit out.

“Then why are you asking me this? It’s not like you really wanted to talk to me or something,” she shot back, getting angry. She knew what she’d done was wrong, beyond wrong, but the anger was still building in her. Had he really expected her to answer those calls? After what he’d said to her? After he’d seen how devastated she’d been? There’d been no way she could’ve talked to him. She’d been embarrassed. Humiliated. And most importantly, her heart shattered into a million, stupid little pieces.

“But now you’re back,” he said. “Strolling back into my life like nothing happened.”

“I wasn’t exactly acting like nothing happened nor was I strolling anywhere—”

“Do you realize what could’ve happened to me if anyone ever found out?”

She gasped as her eyes shot wide. “I was eighteen, Gabe. Not a minor—”

“That doesn’t matter. You were still a fucking kid—”

“I was not a kid. I was eighteen.”

He barked out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, eighteen ain’t an adult, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

God.

Her chest cracked. He used to call her that and it actually sounded like a nice endearment. Not so much now.

It struck her then. Coming back here was a mistake. Nikki would do anything for her parents, but this . . . this wasn’t going to work.

And Gabe was on a roll. “If our roles were reversed and you were as drunk as I was, what do you think would’ve happened? If I had come to you when you were drunk off your ass and taken advantage of you?”

Tears of shame and regret crawled up her throat. That horrible sinking feeling threatened to drag her under.

Honest to God, she’d known he’d been drinking but she’d never seen Gabe seriously drunk. He wasn’t like Lucian back then. She’d figured that he’d had a few beers. That was all. She didn’t even realize until that following morning that he’d been so drunk he’d barely known what he was doing or who he was doing. But she’d realized that pretty damn quickly before he even woke up fully that morning.

Because he’d rolled over, curled his arm around her waist, and tugged her against his chest, holding her like he couldn’t even bear the thought of her getting out of the bed. And those brief seconds had been wonderful. Then he called her Emma, blowing up every stupid dream she had.

“I didn’t think you were that drunk,” she whispered.

His eyes widened with disbelief. “So you honestly thought that I’d want to screw an eighteen-year-old girl? A girl who was practically a sister to me? A girl who was ten years younger than me?”

Those tears were threatening to reach her eyes. She looked away, pressing her lips together as she shook her head. She would not cry. Damn it, she would not fucking cry.

“Christ,” he growled. “What in the hell did you think of me?”

Nikki was so not going to answer that question.

He cursed under his breath. “If your parents had found out what happened, it would’ve killed me. Literally and figuratively. Besides the fact your mother would’ve poisoned my dinner and your father would’ve fed me to the alligators, I respect the hell out of them.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I thought . . .”

“What were you thinking, Nic? I got that you had a crush on me, but seriously? Do you know—” He drew in a breath that sounded like he was striving for patience and not doing too well at it. “Do you know how much shit I gave myself for allowing that to happen between us?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, meeting his gaze again. “It was all mine.”

Gabe was quiet for so long Nikki thought he might’ve lost his ability to speak. “What were you thinking?” he demanded again.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. It wasn’t like I planned to do that. I was eighteen and I was dumb and in—” She cut herself off.

No way in hell was she admitting that she’d been in love with him. That when she realized he’d been drunk and thought he was with someone else, it had broken her in ways she couldn’t even describe.

“Look, I am sorry. Trust me. I know what I did was wrong and I am sorry that you gave yourself a hard time over it. You were not at fault and you didn’t hurt me.”

Gabe finally, finally looked away.

She lifted her shoulders. “I’m not the same person.”

“No shit,” he muttered, and she had no idea what that meant.

Nikki continued. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I’m here for my parents and that’s all. I’ll only be working here until my mother can come back and then you won’t have to deal with me again.”

His head whipped back to her. “That’s good to hear, because I need you to understand one very important thing.”

She was all ears.

“I don’t want anything to do with you and I want you to stay the hell away from me.”

Gabe was well on his way to getting shit-faced.

Something he’d been doing far too often of late, but then again, his entire world had been thrown up in the air a few months ago in multiple different ways, and now a part of a past he wished he couldn’t remember was currently downstairs, preparing dinner for Dev and that . . . fiancée of his.

He downed the rest of the forty-year-old Macallan scotch. The burn was barely noticeable as he placed the short glass on the bar. Lucian was a bourbon man, but Gabe loved that smart bite that scotch gave at the end.

Walking through the living area of his apartment, he opened the French doors and stepped out onto the porch. Immediately his shirt started to stick to his skin. Late September and it still felt like the weather was circling one of the rings of hell.

He’d been really hard on Nic.

The little idiot had deserved it, but damn, he’d been . . . harsh. Rubbing at his chest, he stared out over the grounds—at the pool down below. He’d seen the way her eyes turned glassy when he’d said what he said.

And he’d meant everything he’d said.

He had to.

The last thing he needed right now was Nic following him around, making him feel like he was a hero just for breathing the air around her.

But damn, he hadn’t been all that honest with her or himself, now had he? His gut twisted as he closed his eyes.

Most of that night was a damn blur. Being drunk off his ass had not been an exaggeration, but he remembered. . . .

Opening his eyes, he turned and looked at the doors he’d just come through. Yeah, he remembered some of it.

He remembered being shocked to see Nic there at night, staring at him through these very doors. He’d had no idea what that imp had been up to. With her, it could’ve been anyone’s guess. He’d let her in, because it was Nic, and she was funny as hell most of the time. And even though he’d known she had a major crush on him, she’d been harmless.

It hadn’t even been the first time she’d showed up while he’d been in his apartment. She’d knocked on these doors when fucking Danny Chrisley made fun of her the first day of her sophomore year and she’d been in tears. She’d waited out in the hallway for him when she’d been upset about not having a date to homecoming. She’d even let herself in once, waiting for him because, as she’d claimed, his father was going to yell at her for making noise.

He never in a million years could’ve imagined that night would’ve gone the way it did. If he hadn’t been drinking, he would’ve had the damn common sense to realize that night was going to be different.

Gabe should’ve seen it coming.

As the time for her to leave for college grew closer and closer, she’d been attached to his hip like Velcro. Her stares had become longer, more daring, and he swore those damn bathing suits of hers had continued to shrink in size.

And he’d done everything under the damn sun not to notice the fact those fucking bathing suits barely covered anything, because even though he and his brothers treated her like a sister, Nic wasn’t their kin.

Their actual sister turned out to be a lying, murderous psychopath that would make Nic’s crimes seem like a walk in the damn park.

And Nic . . . she’d messed up big that night and it could’ve been far worse, but she had been eighteen. God knows he’d done a metric shit ton of stupid shit when he was eighteen.

Then again, even with all the stupid shit he did, he still somehow managed not to sleep with someone who was drunk off their ass.

I didn’t think you were that drunk.

Shit.

Her softly spoken words echoed in his dark thoughts. It was very possible that she hadn’t realized, and again, he wasn’t being completely honest with himself.

Wasn’t like he hadn’t known who was in his room that night and ended up in his lap and then in his fucking bed.

Yeah.

He’d been sober enough to know exactly whose body was crawling all over his.

He’d just been too drunk to care.

And there was a football field’s difference between being too drunk to care about consequences and too drunk to know what he was doing.

What did that say about him?

Nothing good.

Most considered him the good brother. The decent one. The kind one. The one who acted right. And here he was, practically the most fucked-up of them all.

What did those damn gossip magazines nickname him while he was in college? Demon. If they only knew how right they’d been.

“Fuck,” he muttered, turning from the doors as he reached out, wrapping his hands around the vine-covered railing. The damn shit covered every part of the outside of the house except for the porch floors. He figured it was only a matter of time before they smothered the floorboards.

His lips twisted into a smirk as he remembered all the years his father tried to get rid of the vines. No matter how many times he’d cut it down, the ivy came back. Always.

But now his so-called father was dead and no one was going to try to cut the stuff down again. The vines won in the end.

Pushing off the railing, he headed back into his main room. His stomach rumbled as he reached for the bottle of scotch. That chicken smelled amazing.

No way in hell was he going down there, though. There was not one, but two females down there he’d die happy never seeing again.

Nikki couldn’t wait to go home.

She’d only been on the job for one day and she was five seconds from dumping what remained of the bottle of champagne on Sabrina Harrington’s head.

Sabrina was everything Nikki would never be.

Extraordinarily thin, elegantly beautiful, well-mannered and manicured, extremely wealthy, and marrying a de Vincent brother.

Sabrina was also a grade-A bitch.

And Nikki didn’t use that word lightly. Usually, she hated it because it was a word often used to demean women, but Sabrina? She was the epitome of everything wrong with rich people.

Standing outside the smaller dining room, because the de Vincents actually had two, she clutched the bottle instead of placing it back in the ice like she knew was expected.

She could give two shits if the champagne was the temperature of her hands. All she wanted was for them to finish their damn meal, so she could clean up, go home, and bury her head in the bed in the same damn bedroom she grew up in.

Nikki wanted to forget today.

Forget the awkward-as-hell conversation with Devlin.

And definitely, most definitely, forget the long-overdue confrontation with Gabe.

I don’t want anything to do with you and I want you to stay the hell away from me.

She couldn’t blame him for wanting that, but it still stung like she’d kicked a hornets’ nest.

It had taken so long for her to move past what she’d done and to start to act like a normal girl at college. Sex had been all twisted up in her head after that night. She’d felt . . . dirty after what had happened. For a long time it hadn’t mattered that she honestly hadn’t known Gabe had been three sheets to the wind. It wasn’t until her junior year of college that she’d even been in a place to be in a relationship and have sex without being reminded of that night.

And even then, she had little experience and even less when it came to relationships, but she’d gotten better. She’d managed to stop thinking about that night at least once a day. She’d even gotten to a point where she stopped thinking about Gabe.

So, she’d thought she could handle this.

“Excuse me? Nikki,” Sabrina called out.

Closing her eyes, Nikki strung together an impressive list of F-bombs and then started back into the room with the round table, the one designed for more intimate gatherings.

And yet, Devlin and Sabrina sat opposite each other at the table.

“Yes?” she asked, stopping beside her.

Sabrina lifted a slender flute. “I know that you’re not naturally skilled at this task or had the proper training, but you should never let a glass go empty.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she said nothing as she poured the champagne. Apparently, Sabrina’s legs didn’t function while eating and therefore she could not get up and refill her own damn glass.

The slender, icy blonde smiled up at her, but it was too sweet, too sugary. “That is the hallmark of a great servant.”

Nikki’s gaze flicked to Devlin, but he was staring down at his phone. She was sure he was completely unaware of the fact that he wasn’t alone. She hadn’t even heard them exchange more than five sentences. So romantic.

Stepping back, she was about to go back to her hidey-hole when Sabrina gasped. Her French-manicured hand fluttered to her throat. “The Pérignon is warm.” She said this like that was equivalent to murdering a nun. “Nikki, are you not putting the bottle back in the ice? With or without experience, I am sure you would know that.”

She figured the truth would be unacceptable, so she started to turn away without answering, but then she saw it—the transformation that overcame Sabrina was ah-mazing. Sabrina lost the ice princess smile and her entire face warmed like her own personal sun had just arrived.

Nikki followed Sabrina’s gaze.

Her stomach dropped.

Gabe strolled into the room, and he wasn’t empty-handed either. In his right hand was a glass of amber-colored liquid. Scotch. Nikki could practically smell it.

“Devlin, dear. Look who has joined us!” Her entire tone even changed, so much so that Nikki actually looked back at her. Was this woman for real?

The elder de Vincent lifted his gaze as Gabe dropped into an arrogant sprawl in the chair beside him. Devlin raised a brow. “Good evening.”

Gabe gave him a chin nod as he placed his scotch on the cream linen. He didn’t look at Sabrina, but he turned his head directly to where Nikki stood . . . still clutching the bottle of champagne that cost as much as a used car.

What was he doing down here?

“Nikki, get Gabe a plate of food.” Sabrina’s laugh sounded like wind chimes. “Goodness.”

Well, obviously he was down here getting food.

Duh.

“I don’t quite remember her being so dense,” Sabrina said with a shake of her head, grinning at Gabe like he’d be in agreement.

And the longer she stood there, he probably was.

Snapping out of it, Nikki pivoted on her heel and hurried into the kitchen, all but dropping the champagne into its ice bucket. Her mind was blank as she started filling his plate with food. He was probably hungry, so she placed a chicken breast and a thigh on his plate and added a mound of potatoes. Then she created her own version of an endless salad bowl. With her hands full, she made her way back.

“So,” Sabrina was saying. “What have you been working on recently, Gabe?”

“An order from overseas,” he answered, tone bland as his gaze found Nikki the moment she appeared. He tracked her around the room, and there was no stopping the faint flush creeping up her throat as she leaned in, placing the salad and then the main dish down.

Sabrina lowered her flute. Her plate was virtually untouched. “Oh, what kind of order?”

He didn’t answer Sabrina, which Nikki thought was kind of rude. As Nikki stepped back, Gabe caught her wrist, startling her. Her entire body jolted at the contact of his fingers pressing over her wildly beating pulse. “Can you get me a glass of water?” He paused. “Please?”

Swallowing hard, she nodded, but Gabe still held onto her wrist. The grip was soft but unyielding and it felt like a brand on her skin. Her gaze shot to his. What was he doing? Touching her? After he’d told her that he wanted her to stay the hell away from him?

His brows lifted, obviously waiting for something. . . .

The she realized what he was waiting for. Irritation spiked as she bit out, “Yes, I can.”

“Good.” A small smile appeared as he let go of her wrist. Not a real smile. It was about as fake as the one Sabrina had given her earlier.

Curling her wrist to her chest, she turned away. Her gaze connected with Sabrina’s. Her expression was pinched, like the champagne had soured. Having no idea what her problem was now, Nikki went to do what Gabe had asked, retrieving a glass of water.

“Gabe, dear,” Sabrina tried again. “What are you working on?”

Nikki didn’t hear his response and she had no idea if he even did.

The conversation at the table was just as stilted when she returned. Good news was that Devlin’s plate was cleared and most of Gabe’s salad was gone. She placed the glass of water down.

“I just think you have such an amazing talent,” Sabrina was prattling on. “I know you’re busy, but I’d love for—”

Gabe’s elbow caught the knife on the table, knocking it onto the floor. Their gazes connected, and that one-sided smile was back. He watched her. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I’ll need a new knife.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, she thought, bending down and snatching up the knife. She returned with a new one, and by then, Gabe had finished off the water, wanted another, and then he wanted fresh salad, and even Devlin was staring at him with a flicker of inquisitiveness. At that point, Nikki knew he was doing this on purpose.

Fine.

Whatever.

He wanted to be a jerk. Have at it.

Truth be told, she deserved worse, but if this was the best punishment he could dish out, she could easily take it. So she brought him another glass and more salad.

“My glass is empty yet again,” Sabrina said just as Nikki was placing another full glass of water in front of Gabe.

How much liquid did these people drink? Lord.

Swallowing a sigh, she straightened and muttered under her breath, “Fuck my life.”

Gabe made this noise that sounded an awful lot like a laugh.

Sabrina’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

Oh crap. Nikki smiled brightly. “I said, ‘I’m so bad at this.’”

The woman studied her. “I’m sure that’s what you said.”

Glancing back at Gabe, she was surprised to see an actual real grin on his lips as he lifted the glass of scotch to his mouth. Nikki grabbed the champagne.

“When do you think the other one is coming back?” Sabrina was asking this of Devlin, who just shrugged in response. “I do hope it’s soon. This one seems ill equipped for the job. Actually—” she glanced up at Nikki “—that’s pretty sad. This isn’t hard.”

Nikki’s hand tightened on the bottle.

Sabrina tilted her head to the side, and Nikki would swear the blond bob barely moved. What kind of hair spray did this woman use? “Devlin was telling me you just graduated college? I’m finding that difficult to believe. I think whatever your employment or educational history is, it should’ve been vetted.”

“She went to college,” Gabe answered, shocking the hell out of several people in the room. Namely Nikki. “Majored in social work. Right? Graduated with honors.”

Nikki stood beside an equally frozen Sabrina. How in the world did he know that? Well, the answer was obvious. Her parents most likely kept him and all the brothers up to date, whether they wanted to be or not.

But was he actually trying to defend her? After everything?

“Well—” Sabrina lifted her flute higher “—then I have no idea why she can’t figure out how to fill a glass correctly.”

Nikki had no idea why she did what she did. It was probably that wild streak her Pappy had left her, but she acted without thought, something she of all people should’ve known better than to do.

Planting the biggest and brightest smile on her face, she poured the champagne into the glass and just kept on pouring.

Sabrina shrieked as the god-awful-expensive champagne coursed down her slim fingers and splattered off her white pants. She launched from the seat like a rocket, knocking the heavy chair over. “Oh my God!” Sabrina stared down at her legs. “I cannot believe you did that!”

“I’m so sorry,” Nikki said, blinking slowly. “Let me get you a napkin.” She reached for the pale-blue napkin that had been barely touched. “I’m just so unskilled at this. I wish there was training, but . . .”

There was a strange huffing or choking sound coming from one of the brothers, but Nikki didn’t dare look at them, because they’d know if she did. They’d take one look at her face and know.

“Don’t!” Sabrina’s voice was shrill. “Don’t you touch it. You’ll just make it worse.”

“Sabrina,” Devlin sighed. “Sit down.”

Her head jerked up in disbelief. “I can’t sit down. I need to get these to the dry cleaners immediately before they’re ruined.”

Devlin placed an arm on the table as he stared back at his fiancée. “They are just pants. I will buy you three new pairs to replace this one. Sit down.”

Sabrina sat down, but she glared up at Nikki. “The cost to clean these pants should be taken out your paycheck.”

“Dev already said he’d buy you a new pair,” Gabe interjected. “They’re just pants.”

Sabrina gasped. “They’re not just pants. They’re Armani. They don’t even make these pants any longer.”

Across the table, Devlin sighed once more. “I will buy you an entire closet’s worth of Armani pants if you will stop talking about those pants.”

Sabrina’s lips thinned, but she was quiet as she picked up her napkin and blotted at the wet spot.

Because Nikki couldn’t help herself, she asked, “Would you like me to get you another glass?”

“No,” snapped Sabrina, her pale cheeks flushing pink.

“As you wish.” A quick glance across the table told Nikki that the brothers did, in fact, know what had happened was no accident.

Apologizing once more, Nikki crept back from the table, fighting the laugh bubbling up in her throat. As she left the room, she couldn’t help but notice that Gabe wasn’t grinning as he watched her from under his thick lashes.

Oh, no, the man was smiling that smile that had gotten her in trouble all those years ago, and her stupid, stupid reckless heart jumped in her chest.

After the worst first day on a job, Nikki couldn’t get out of the de Vincent compound fast enough. Slipping out the back entrance, she hurried to where her nearly decade-old Ford Focus was parked next to the garage that housed who knew how many cars.

Turning on the car, she immediately cranked up the music and an old eighties song blared out of the speakers. Immediately, she recognized the song. It was “Jesse’s Girl.”

Man, she loved that song.

For some reason, she loved songs from the eighties. Maybe it had to do with her parents listening to it as she grew up, but she hated most of the music of today, preferring to sing along to David Bowie or Talking Heads than whoever was currently popular.

Though, she did go through a One Direction phase at one point in her younger years.

Like she always did when she was restless, she started to sing along, bobbing her head. “Where can I find a woman—blah, blah—Jesse’s girl!”

God. She sucked, but she kept on, following the curve of the road as she drove past ancient oaks. That way, as she focused on not butchering the lyrics, she didn’t think about her craptastic day as she drove down the winding, tree-lined road that led to the main highway. She didn’t think about how she was going to have to face Gabe again and again.

Reaching the end of the private road, she slowed and leaned forward. No cars coming. She pulled out, hanging a right—heading back out into the real world, where people didn’t have someone waiting in the wings to refill their champagne glasses or—

Bright light suddenly poured through the back window of her Focus, startling her. Glancing in the rearview mirror, her brows pinched as headlights appeared. Strange. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. No one had been on the road when she pulled out. There was no way someone would get behind her that quickly unless they’d . . . they’d pulled out of the de Vincent road.

Her stomach dipped.

That would be impossible, because who would’ve been on that road? No one else was there, and wouldn’t she have seen a car sitting along that road? Her gaze flipped back to the rearview mirror. The car was still there, not on her ass, but it was close. There was a good chance that a car could’ve been parked between any number of the trees or on one of the dirt access roads used by the landscapers.

But who’d be sitting there?

No one would dare loiter on the de Vincent property.

Unease blossomed as she continued down the highway, slowing down as traffic picked up around her. She kept looking in the mirror and each time she did, she saw the car right behind her. All she could make out in the fading sunlight was that it was a dark-colored sedan. When she turned off to take one of the streets to her parents’ house, the car—holy crap—the car made the same turn.

Nikki’s heart lurched into her throat as she hit the button on the steering wheel to turn the radio down. She needed to concentrate.

Was she being followed?

That . . . that would be ridiculous.

She glanced up. The car was still there. Her throat felt funny as she thought of her phone. It was in her purse. She started to reach for it, but then stopped. Who was she going to call? The police? And tell them what? Possibly some car was following her? Again, that sounded ridiculous.

Pressing her lips together, she focused on the busy street and houses practically stacked on top of one another. The street to her parents’ house was coming up, in two blocks. If the car turned . . .

Nikki would call the police. No matter how stupid it sounded, she would call them.

Nearly holding her breath, she turned and sped up, hastily looking in the rearview mirror. The car slowed at the intersection, causing her to suck in a sharp breath. She was wrong. The car was a two-door—a coupe of some sort, but she couldn’t make out the model.

The car sped up, clearing the intersection.

It did not turn.

Nikki let out a rough breath as she neared her parents’ house, waiting for the relief to kick in—the laughter to spill out of her, but it didn’t come and the unease didn’t go away.