Chapter 3—Shot in the Dark

The next night, Steph sat at the counter while Vi put away the dishes from that night’s dinner. The boys were in bed and the game was over. The Sockeyes had played at home tonight, but Vi had opted to stay home because one of the boys had a fever. Matt had gone to a charity event after the game.

Steph didn’t really know a lot about sports. Her family had never been into them, and her ex-boyfriend tended toward more violent forms of entertainment, like cage fighting. Steph had hated the brutality of it all, but he’d forced her to watch, just like he’d forced her to prove her love and do a lot of things she’d hated. She’d beaten herself up enough over what she’d done for that man, and she hated how much she still dwelled on it.

Move on. Move on. Move on.

“Do you know Jared Roderick very well?” She hated herself for asking, but he’d been on her mind ever since yesterday.

Vi folded the dishtowel and set it on the counter. “Sure, he’s one of Matt’s friends, nice enough guy, but can he pick ’em. His ex was a piece of work.”

“How so?”

“She slept around a lot with half the guys on the local pro sports teams. Why do you ask?” Vi studied her in that way that always made Steph uncomfortable.

“I interviewed him yesterday for Forever Matched, and the sisters met with him today.”

“Really?”

“I’m supposed to keep the clients confidential. Please don’t mention it to Matt.”

“I won’t. The team probably knows anyway. Hard to keep secrets around those guys. And they think women gossip?” Vi laughed and rolled her eyes. Her smile disappeared, and she really looked at Steph. “You don’t want to get mixed up with him. He’s still nursing a broken heart. I don’t care what anyone else says.”

“I’m not. I can’t. It’s against policy. I could be fired. Besides, he would never want someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” Vi stopped wiping the counter and turned to face Steph. She bristled like a mother bear preparing to protect her cubs.

Steph sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, trying to stop the inevitable tears.

“Oh, Steph.” Vi crossed to the other side of the counter and sat next to her. She grabbed Steph’s hands and squeezed them tight. “You did what you had to do. Stripping doesn’t make you a bad person, nor does falling into an abusive relationship. You got out. You should be proud of yourself. Celebrate your victories. Learn from your defeats.”

“I know. I need to get back on my feet. Learn to take care of myself for once.”

“You are.”

“I’m trying.” But she’d had a lot of help along the way. She couldn’t have done this on her own.

“How’s the new job going?” Vi smoothly changed the subject to something more positive. Steph didn’t know what she’d done to deserve such a loyal friend, and she vowed to prove herself worthy.

“It’s fun. It’s only a few hours a day, but combined with the party crashing I’m doing for Izzy, I’ve been able to save a little money for the future.”

“And what does your future look like?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been one with an interest in college, even if I could afford it. My grades in high school were average, and I had to work for them.”

“What’s your special talent? What do you love to do?”

“It’s not dancing. That’s for sure.”

They both got a chuckle out of that. Steph had been the worst dancer at the club by far.

“There has to be something. Do you like to sew or knit?”

“Not really. I love to read. I guess my dream job would be working in a neighborhood bookstore.”

“Have you tried for a job like that?”

“I’m afraid to. What if they find out about my past? Most of those places are pretty conservative.”

“No one needs to find out about your past if you don’t want them to. That’s dead and buried. It never should’ve happened.”

“Just like yours never should’ve happened to you.”

Vi had been arrested for vehicular homicide after driving drunk. Only she hadn’t been driving. Her sister had taken her car, gotten wasted, and been involved in a hit and run. Vi served a few years in prison for a crime she didn’t commit.

Vi was Steph’s hero. She’d risen above all the bad things and remade herself. She’d opened a dance studio several months ago with Matt’s assistance, and her business was booming.

“You’re good with kids. How about being a nanny?”

“Again, my past.”

“It’s not like they’d find anything in a background check.”

“There’s so much out there that I live in constant fear someone will recognize me, or Gino will hunt me down.”

“He hasn’t made any attempt to contact you in months. I’m sure he’s moved on to someone else.”

Steph wasn’t so sure. She couldn’t explain it, but lately she had the creepy feeling someone was following her and watching her. She was probably being overly paranoid. He hadn’t called or made threats in months, but she’d been with him for four years, and she doubted he’d forgotten her. He’d been one to hold a grudge, and she feared she hadn’t seen the last of him.

“I’m sure you’re right.” She forced a cheerful tone and managed a smile. “You know I’m grateful to you for all your help.”

“I’m always right. And no need to thank me. That’s what friends are for. If the tables had been turned, you’d have done the same.”

“I would have.”

The phone rang and Vi snatched it up. By the dreamy look on her face, Matt was on the other end.

Steph grabbed her coat and purse and waved to Vi, who put a hand over the phone. “I can give you a ride home.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You can’t leave the boys alone, and I don’t want you to wake them on a school night. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Before Vi could protest any further, Steph let herself out. She hurried down the dark, rain-slicked street to the bus stop, grateful she’d lucked out and the bus was approaching. Forty-five minutes and another bus later, she stepped off five blocks from her home. After looking both ways, she hurried along the sidewalk. Despite the streetlights, the night was dreary and dark, and shadows popped out everywhere in the drizzle.

Steph shivered and dug in her purse for her mace. She held it tightly in her hand, constantly scanning her surroundings. The neighborhood might be low crime, but she had an active imagination, and a good reason for it. She walked past an alley and could’ve sworn she’d seen a dark figure lurking behind a car parked there. Almost jogging, she listened for footsteps behind her, but the drizzle drowned out most sounds. A dog barked nearby, and Steph jumped, her heart racing.

Taking deep, calming breaths, she tried to get her fear under control. She was fine. Just a few more blocks, and she’d be in the safety of her studio, warm and cozy with a cup of hot chocolate, the gremlins locked outside.

A car turned down the block and drove slowly past her. She couldn’t see past the dark windows, but the driver crept along, either lost or looking for something. She prayed to God that something wasn’t her.

He passed her and continued down the block, turning right and disappearing.

Steph let out a shaky breath. She’d never take the bus again late at night. She’d learned her lesson. Riley would’ve picked her up. The teenager jumped at any chance to drive his uncle Coop’s Mercedes, but she hated putting anyone out.

Across the street, movement caught her eye. She stumbled and regained her footing before falling in a heap on the wet sidewalk. A man with a hoodie pulled over his head leaned against a lamppost on the other side of the street. He was smoking a cigarette, and his gaze followed her. He was oddly out of place in this upscale neighborhood.

She swallowed. Only another long block to go.

Steph glanced at him. His eyes glowed menacingly under the darkness of the hoodie. This man was not Gino. She’d almost prefer the known to this unknown.

She judged the distance to the Blacks’ driveway and knew she’d never outrun him. Had Gino gotten one of his questionable cronies to stalk her? If this stranger wanted to scare her, he was doing a damn good job of it. She’d gotten complacent and assumed she was safe now, but was she?

She swallowed and willed her legs to walk swiftly toward her goal without breaking into a run. If she ran, he would give chase like a dog chasing a cat.

She fingered the mace, flipping up the protective top and holding her finger on the button. Listening for footsteps, she heard none, and chanced a glance over her shoulder.

The stranger still loitered on the corner, his eyes on her. He raised his hand and made a gesture as if he were shooting a gun.

Steph broke into a run. She could hear his sinister laughter ringing in her ears. Whether real or imagined, the effect was the same.

She didn’t stop until she reached her front door. After fumbling with her key, she finally found the keyhole, turned it, and rushed into the room. She dropped her mace and purse on the floor, slammed the door shut, and twisted the deadbolt.

Steph sank to the floor and curled into a little ball, shivering and hugging herself.

This man had been sent by Gino, and it was only the beginning.

 

* * * *

 

Sunday afternoon, Jared and the team left on another week-long road trip, starting with a game in D.C. Monday evening. They were hanging in there at second place in the West and with a lot of games left in the season. Jared usually napped after a flight, but all he did was toss and turn on the unfamiliar bed. Finally, he wandered downstairs to the coffee shop for a snack.

He should be thinking about his game, visualizing how to defend against some of Edmonton’s top forwards, but he was thinking about the matchmaker’s assistant instead. She’d been pretty and sweet and soft-spoken. He liked how she watched him through lowered lashes, but he’d been troubled by her skittishness. She wouldn’t be his match, so he needed to get her out of his head. Easier said than done. For reasons he couldn’t fathom, she’d taken up residence and refused to move out.

He glanced up when a chair scraped across the floor. Matt lowered himself slowly into the seat across from Jared, balancing a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a grilled cheese sandwich in the other.

“I signed up with Ethan’s aunties for their matchmaking services.”

Matt grinned at him. “I bet that was an experience.”

“It was. They had their assistant take my application initially, but I met with them the next day.”

Matt narrowed his eyes and leveled Jared with an intense stare. “You met Steph?”

“Uh, yeah, Stephanie. She’s cute.”

Matt’s expression closed off, as if he’d battened down the hatches and locked the door. “She’s emotionally unavailable. Keep that in mind.”

“How do you know her?”

“She’s one of Vi’s friends.”

“I’ve never met her before. Never seen her at your house.”

“I haven’t known her long.” Matt avoided his gaze and dug into his sandwich. “Don’t tell Vi I’m eating this. I’m sure it’s not organic, and it’s definitely not healthy.”

Jared nodded, undeterred. “How long has Vi known Steph?”

“They’re casual friends, so we really don’t know much about her. If you have questions, the best person to ask is her.”

“Never mind. I was just curious.”

“Any prospects for matches yet?”

“Just got interviewed late last week.”

Matt’s face softened. “Those ladies have a way of finding the right match, but it’s weird. Almost like they have a sixth sense or something.”

“Vhat ladies?” Rush slid into the seat next to them, followed by Drew Delacorte, their talented but enigmatic young forward. “You got lead on good escort service?” Rush’s eyes lit up. The Russian loved women, and the more the merrier. In fact, his nickname had more to do with him rushing the ladies and the net like a speeding bullet than it had to do with him being Russian. Right now, he was eyeing the blonde waitress. While hot, she was old enough to be his mother. Rush didn’t care. He never discriminated when it came to females. Short, tall, thin, plump, they were all potential bedmates, and he gave as good as he got, so Jared heard.

Drew sipped his coffee and watched the interplay without comment or expression. Jared knew very little about his teammate other than he was uber-talented, and his father was a hockey god. Lately, Drew rarely smiled, and his play had been mechanical, lacking all emotion or drive. He’d been silent and sullen. Jared had seen the worry in the coaches’ eyes as they studied the guy who’d been pegged as their next star player and tried to figure out what made him tick. Or lately, not tick much at all.

Until lately, he’d partied with the guys, drunk a lot, but never said much, and never left with a woman. Yet Jared was somewhat certain Drew wasn’t gay—not that it would matter to Jared or their team if he were.

Rush had his phone out, his index finger poised. “The ladies? You have number?”

“They’re not an escort service. They’re matchmakers.”

Rush’s eyes grew big, and he shoved his phone back in his jeans pocket. “Not for me. Not looking for long-term committed.”

Jared and Matt threw back their heads and chortled at Rush’s horrified expression. Drew didn’t crack a smile or even smirk. The guy was missing his calling. He should be a pro poker player.

Rush ignored their chortles. Nothing offended the carefree Russian. “You hire matchmaker? Didn’t you just gain freedom?”

“Yeah, but I—”

“You’re fucking nuts,” Drew declared, and his eyes flashed with a rare display of anger and disgust. They stared at him in open-mouthed shock. The guy rarely contributed to discussions other than one-syllable answers or grunts, and never displayed much in the way of emotions.

“Maybe,” Jared conceded. “I like commitment.”

Drew’s frown deepened. “It’s all bullshit. Women want to change you. Make you someone you aren’t. They want your pocketbook, not you. Out of all of us, you should get that.”

“I guess I’m not as cynical as you, buddy.” Jared patted him on the back, and Drew stiffened. He rolled his eyes, picked up a menu, and hid his face behind it, his brief moment of socialization all but gone.

The other three shared a look of concern. Even Rush, who was rarely bothered by much, shrugged and sighed.

Jared had known men who’d lost the fire, their competitive urge, and their love for the game, but they’d all been fourth-liners or at the end of their careers. Not a blue-chip guy like Drew who had years left to play. Yet Jared had seen Drew pull up near the boards time and time again to avoid a hard hit.

Jared should say something to Coop, or the A captain, Smooth. If anyone could get a guy to talk, it was Smooth. But did he really need to get involved? It wasn’t like Jared didn’t have enough problems of his own. Like his love life, or lack thereof.

Jared lifted his coffee and took a long sip. Stephanie—or Steph—had made an impression on him. He had to believe the women he was actually matched with would be even better. Yeah, he had to believe that. Steph wasn’t the one, but the sisters would take care of him. They had a great track record. Or so he was told.

Right now, his personal life issues needed to be locked into their private place to be pulled out at a later date. He had hockey to think about.

* * * *

 

On Monday morning, Steph asked Riley to drop her off at the McIntyre sisters’ mansion on his way to school. She was still a little—okay, maybe a lot—freaked out by what happened last Thursday night. She’d called in sick to work at the sisters’ on Friday and stayed home all weekend escaping into romance novels. Fantasy men were so much better than real men. She hadn’t told anyone. She didn’t want Vi or Izzy to fret about her. Most likely it was just some stranger toying with her.

Riley pulled up to the curb and shot her a glance. “I won’t be able to pick you up. I have practice after school.”

“That’s okay. I can walk home.”

“You could borrow Otto to escort you to and from work. He’s harmless, but he’s big and imposing, and he has a great bark.”

Otto was Riley’s Newfoundland. Steph could imagine what the McIntyres’ cats and poodle would have to say about the huge, lumbering beast invading their domain, not to mention the sisters themselves.

“I doubt the sisters would like that.”

“They love Otto.”

“They’ve met him?”

Riley grinned an engaging, lopsided grin. “Yeah, he’s visited before.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Steph said. She didn’t know much about dogs. She’d never had one growing up. “The sisters have cats.”

“Otto likes cats. Or, at least, he ignores them.”

“Thanks, Riley, but—”

“Don’t worry.” Riley put his SUV into park in front of the McIntyres’ massive entryway. “They can’t resist me.” He winked at her and hopped out.

With a sigh, Steph followed him. He was adorable. She imagined all the teenage girls at his high school had major crushes on him. She would if she were his age.

The sisters met Riley at the door with hugs. They fawned all over him, and the teenager ate it up, grinning from ear to ear.

Next thing Steph knew, she was going to work each morning with Riley’s bear of a dog. She didn’t admit to any of them that such a huge animal scared her. When she thought about it, just the size of Otto would be enough to deter anyone from approaching her. For that reason alone, she didn’t argue, not that any of them gave her a choice.

And the next day, Steph walked down the street in a misty rain with a huge, hairy black beast next to her. Riley had forgotten to mention the animal slobbered worse than her grandfather had on a morphine drip after his hip surgery.

She tentatively held the leash, slightly shocked at how easily Otto walked alongside her, never once pulling and always keeping his nose even with her leg, except for a few times when he forgot his manners and stopped to sniff and pee on an irresistibly enticing bush, the one time she stumbled and almost fell. Otto gave her an apologetic look and blinked those big brown eyes, did his business, and they were off again.

He kept throwing tentative glances her way, as if he considered her slightly unbalanced. A long line of drool hung from his lip and swayed as he walked.

Ugh.

She shuddered.

Mounting the steps to the McIntyre mansion, she rang the doorbell. Otto sat obediently next to her, and she couldn’t help thinking the dog was messing with her. He rubbed her thigh with his big head, leaving a long line of slobber down the leg of her jeans. Steph grabbed the drool rag Riley had given her and wiped off his mouth and her jeans. The big dog looked up at her, the picture of innocence, but she swore he was laughing his big butt off.

Agnes opened the door and swept Otto into her arms, unmindful of the drool and black dog hair adorning her once-immaculate cream knit suit. All seemed right with the world.

Steph settled in to work, while Otto seemed perfectly happy to lie on her feet and snore. The cats eyed him with suspicion, but he didn’t acknowledge their existence. The poodle sniffed at him and strutted away, as if he wouldn’t be caught socializing with such a furry monster.

Finally, Steph looked up. She hadn’t seen any effort on the sisters’ part to match Jared with the myriad eligible young women in their database, yet they’d been scheduled to do a personal interview with him last Friday.

“How did the interview with Jared go on Friday? Do you have any potential matches for him? He seemed eager to get started.” Steph’s interest was purely business, of course.

Agnes stopped chewing on the end of her pencil, stuck it behind her ear, and looked up. Iona took a sip of her ever-present wine and scowled at Steph, but a good scowl, not one of her watch-out-I’m-pissed scowls.

“Jared?” Agnes seemed puzzled.

Iona raised a darkly penciled, razor-thin brow.

“The hockey player for the Sockeyes,” Steph said.

“Which one?” Agnes was being purposely obtuse. She’d already revealed her love for all things hockey, especially the young men with their tight asses. Iona would only admit to liking the fights and slams against the boards. They knew whom Steph was referring to.

“Jared Roderick.” Steph managed to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

“Ah, Hot Rod.” Agnes winked at her. Much to her horror, Steph could feel her face heating up.

“Yes, him.”

“We talked with him. Nice young man. He finally dumped that gold-digging bitch who had her claws in him,” Iona said.

“After his divorce, he’s looking for a nice girl,” Agnes said. “You know, the churchgoing type who never swears and wears conservative clothes and would never cheat on him.”

“Somewhat like you, dear,” Iona said innocently. It wasn’t a good look on her.

“No, not like me.” If they only knew, and thank God they didn’t. Steph glanced at Otto, who chose this moment to rest his slobbery chin on her knee. She ran her hand over his silky fur and refused to meet the eagle eyes of the two elderly women. They saw too much. It was unnerving.

Steph glanced up in time to see the two sisters exchange all-knowing glances. Heck if she knew why. They were behaving oddly.

“He’s lonely, and he needs someone,” Steph stammered, feeling as if she were digging a bigger hole. They seemed to have the impression she was interested in him, which was ridiculous. She didn’t want a man, and this man was out of her league anyway.

Again, another look between the two.

“Did you have a chance to read his questionnaire?” Steph pulled it off a stack of papers on the desk and handed it to Agnes, who gave it a cursory glance and handed it to Iona, who did the same and tossed it in the garbage. Confused, Steph looked from one to the other. “Don’t you want to keep that?”

“We know what we need to know. We spoke with him,” Agnes said.

“One conversation was all we needed, if that,” Iona added.

“But the form is extensive,” Steph said.

Agnes waved her off. “We rarely consult them, but the form makes the clients feel better.”

Steph frowned and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Agnes said. “Love can’t be reduced to words on a form. Love is more magical than words on paper.”

“We’re successful because our matches are spiritual via psychic visions and intuitive perceptions,” Iona said. “The average person doesn’t use the gifts they’ve been given. Don’t even acknowledge them. We know. We feel. We perceive.” She sipped her tea with a self-satisfied smile, as if her words explained it all instead of making Steph even more confused.

“But the other day, you didn’t know a prospective match had been a stripper.” Steph held her breath.

“We don’t know details,” Agnes said. “We know feelings. We can see things, but not always clearly. Being a psychic is not necessarily something a person can control. The visions come and go; they don’t necessarily appear because we want them to. Some people we can’t read, and we tell them we can’t help them. It only takes a short time to determine if they’re a good fit for what we do.” She poured herself another cup of tea, added one lump of sugar, and lifted it to her lips.

“For example, we can help you when you’re ready,” Iona said.

Agnes nodded her agreement.

“You can read me?” Steph asked.

“Yes, but we try not to unless you want us to so don’t fret about it,” Agnes assured her.

“About Jared?” Steph needed to bring this convo back to the subject.

“We have possibilities,” Iona said. “What woman wouldn’t want to date that hottie? If only I were younger.”

“Stick with the program, Iona,” Agnes said.

“Fine. We have a very good candidate, in fact. We’ll arrange something for his next night off. Is he on a road trip, Agnes?”

Agnes tapped out a message on her smart phone and waited a few seconds. “He’s on a road trip. Should be back by Friday.”

“How do you know so much about their schedule?” Steph asked.

“Ethan’s assistant is my best friend,” Agnes said.

Steph should’ve known.

Giles, the butler, chose that moment to enter the room. He deposited a gleaming silver tea tray adorned with a silver teapot, delicate teacups, scones, and an assortment of yummy little appetizers. Steph licked her lips, and her stomach growled.

“Thank you, Giles,” Agnes said. She and Iona smiled at him, and their gazes lingered.

Steph blinked a few times, relieved the heat was taken off her and surprised at the pair’s obvious entranced gazes.

Agnes?

And the butler?

Who’d have guessed?

While Steph pondered this new development, Giles bowed low, as usual, and exited the room. Agnes stared longingly after him. Steph chanced a glance at Iona and couldn’t help but notice the slight smirk on her wrinkled face.

“Tea?” Agnes asked. Her hands shook as she poured the tea. She was flustered. Imagine that.

Steph ducked her head to hide her smile. Once again, Otto looked up and came to the rescue. He slimed her with a swath of drool across her arm, and she busied herself wiping off his chin and her arm. Taking care of him was like taking care of a baby, except that he was much larger than thirty babies put together.

“Why don’t you ask Giles to join us?” Iona said, looking as innocent as the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz, one the few movies Steph had watched in her childhood. Steph had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from giggling. She’d only been working here a few weeks, yet she felt closer to these women than she had her grandparents growing up. Both of them pretended to be cranky and unapproachable, but she found them to be two of the most genuinely good people she’d met in her life.

“Oh, no, he’d be appalled if we asked him,” Agnes said. “A proper British butler never takes his tea with the ladies of the house.”

“Then tell him to take tea with us as friends.” It wasn’t until both pairs of eyes turned on Steph that she realized she’d spoken her thoughts out loud.

“Oh, no, dear, he’d never do that.” Agnes held one hand to her chest as if the very thought might cause a heart attack.

Steph, having never lived a privileged life, was honestly baffled. “Why not?”

“Because of his station?” Iona blew out an impatient sigh.

“His station?”

“He’s a servant,” Iona answered, as if that made all the difference in the world.

“Why should that matter? He’s still a person.”

Both women looked at each other, honestly puzzled.

“Because it just does,” Agnes finally answered.

“I still think you should invite him to join us for tea.” Steph considered the whole thing ridiculous. Maybe her indignation dated back to the patronizing way she’d been treated by wealthy homeowners when, as a teenager, she’d helped her aunt clean their regal mansions. The entire class thing grated on her.

The sisters ignored her and poured the tea into delicate little cups. Agnes took a sip and studied Steph over the rim of the china. “Someday we’ll find the perfect match for you.”

“No need,” Steph replied. “I’m perfectly happy with my single status. Having a man in one’s life is seriously overrated.”

“True that,” Iona agreed.

“Men are a necessary evil.” Agnes’s gaze strayed to the door Giles had gone out. She stared for a long time and said nothing more.

Iona caught Steph’s eye, and a smile slowly crossed her face. Steph smiled back. Perhaps she’d do a little matchmaking herself.

The two women were already distracted. Heads together, they were discussing another client.

“If you don’t have anything else for me today, I’ll be on my way.”

“Certainly.” Agnes waved a hand in the air. Steph was already forgotten.

Dismissed, she put a leash on Otto, shrugged into her raincoat, and let herself out the door. Giles was nowhere to be found.

Despite it being midafternoon, threatening rain clouds blotted out most of the daylight and cast ominous shadows. Steph hurried along the street, only pausing long enough for Otto to do his business. Rain began to fall in big, nasty drops. Steph pulled up her hood while Otto, a water dog if there ever was one, didn’t seem to notice.

A dark car slowed and kept pace with her. Steph shivered, glancing around for a possible safe haven if she needed one. Most of the mansions were set back from the street behind trees and bushes. Most had gated driveways. She was halfway home and sped up her pace, ignoring the dark sedan. It pulled ahead of her, and she drew a sigh of relief, but only briefly. The driver stuck his head out the window.

“Hey,” he said in a gravelly voice thick with threat.

Steph stared straight ahead, almost jogging, while Otto trotted alongside her. Sensing her discomfort, the big black dog glanced at the car now pacing them.

“Stephanie.”

Oh, no. No. No. He knew her name.

The dog who’d never met a human he didn’t love growled from deep in his throat, his movements now stiff and jerky, the hair on his back standing up straight.

“Stephanie. I have a message for you from Gino.”

Stephanie stumbled and almost fell. Regaining her balance, she faced her harasser, not because she was brave but because her legs forgot how to move, and her lungs constricted to the point she was near passing from lack of oxygen. The man stopped his car but, thankfully, made no move to get out.

“He’s coming for you because you’re his. Got it?”

Fear stabbed through her and sliced deep into her fragile and newfound confidence. “Tell him—tell him to go to hell.”

The man laughed. “He’s already there. He’d like you to join him.” He made a gesture as if he were shooting a gun. It was the same man from a few weeks ago.

Otto stood stiff-legged, his growl turning into a snarl. After casting a nervous glance at the dog, the stranger rolled up his window and sped off.

Steph froze for a split second more before she broke into a run, Otto loping next to her. She didn’t slow down until she was locked safely in her apartment. Otto sat next to her, staring at the crazy lady, while Steph leaned against the door, attempting to gather her wits. Her heart slammed in her chest and her hands shook as she tried to unhook his leash. He watched her with concern furrowing lines above his expressive brown eyes.

Steph dropped to her knees and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his long, wet coat. He didn’t move a muscle but stoically offered his silent comfort. The tears came, despite her efforts to stay strong, and mingled with raindrops on his coat. She couldn’t stop once she started. She cried until she was drained of tears and energy. Sinking to the floor, she curled in a little ball. Otto lay down next to her.

The safe world she’d created had been a fantasy. She’d convinced herself Gino had moved on. She should’ve known better. She’d been Gino’s possession, and men like him didn’t give up their possessions easily.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever be safe again.