“Isn’t it against company policy to keep us here so late?”

“Half the shit you do here is against company policy,” I say, through gritted teeth. “Trust me, I want to get out of here as much as you do. Probably more, actually. Since I’m not going home to my girlfriend, but to a hotel room.”

“Probably a fucking nice one,” Dave mumbles and rolls his eyes. He’s in charge of this imprint and I don’t know if he’s even old enough to babysit my nieces. I feel really fucking old standing here, trying to direct everyone on how to do their fucking jobs.

“It is a fucking nice hotel,” I snap, surprising Dave and the other employees. “And once this is finally all sorted, I get to go home to a fucking nice house on the Upper East Side. I get to drive a fucking nice car to work on the days I feel like driving or have a company driver pick me up so I don’t have to do shit myself. When I travel for work, I fly first class and stay in fucking nice hotels. And you know how I got all that nice shit? By working. Working hard and not slacking off on social media all day.”

“Is that supposed to be a motivational speech?” another one of the employees asks. “Because I’m a minimalist and don’t see the value in material items.”

“Do you value a hard day’s work? In doing your best and pulling your weight? Maybe you don’t want your paycheck, but you could donate it to those who need it. Or invest it and save for your children’s college years.”

“You have a point, old man.”

“I’m thirty-five,” I grumble. “I’m not old enough to be your father, so shut it.” I’m at my wit’s end here, though the lack of professionalism here means I don’t have to uphold the falsities that go along with work. “Bottom line, if this imprint doesn’t get enough revenue, Black Ink will shut it down. You might not be interested in making more money or material things, but Black Ink sure as shit does. This is a business for them, not a political stance, not a way to get a voice heard. That might not be right, and sure as shit isn’t fair, but that’s how it is. If you want to keep spreading your message, you better get this place functioning like a business as well, or you’ll all be out of jobs.”

The last words seemed to hit everyone hard, and the tone of our meeting changes. I’ve been in LA all morning, trying to talk sense into the small yet brilliantly stubborn staff at this imprint. I went about things the usual way; polite, patient, trying to explain things in terms they can understand.

But my own patience ran out hours ago, and I realize now that I could have saved myself a great deal of trouble and a hell of a lot of time if I’d taken this approach the first time around.

“You haven’t published anything in months, yet you’ve taken on new books almost weekly. Where do you think the marketing dollars come from?”

“Oh, come on. We know Black Ink headquarters has lots of money,” Dave quips.

I resist the urge to bang my head on the wall. No fucking wonder Caitlin sent me. All the other publishers know how much of a headache this crew is to work with.

“They do, and they like to keep it that way. Which is why they won’t hesitate to shut this down. You think I’m old and don’t get what you’re trying to say? Imagine a room full of the owners and operators of Black Ink, who are all bordering on retirement. They won’t give a shit if you have three books lined up this summer to break through gender stereotypes and prove how blatant racism is. They might not see the importance of it. But I do. These books need to be read. The message needs to be shouted for everyone to hear. Which is why it’s important to listen to me on this.”

“You make a solid argument,” Dave agrees. “That’s all we want. To get the voices heard. Tell us your plan.”

* * *

“I learned today that the Brooklyn Zoo is not a zoo with animals,” Ana tells me over the phone. “The cab driver probably thought I was the dumbest person in the world.”

I laugh. “I can see how the mistake can be made.”

“I know, right? The name is very misleading,” she laughs. “It took like forty minutes to get to the right zoo, and your family was all running late so they only waited like ten minutes for me…and had a good laugh.”

“Lexi is always running late,” I say. “And Luke isn’t much better. I honestly can’t think of a single time when Lexi was early to work.”

“I’m glad in this case. We had fun. The kids liked seeing the animals and it was nice talking with Lexi and your mom. Anyway, how’s your day?”

“Fine. It’s Sunday, so no work has been done at the imprint. I slept in today and then worked on editing. Doing this on top of my regular work is giving me a fucking headache.”

“You should go out and sightsee! Or at the very least, take a break and enjoy the weather. It’s cold here. It rained the last hour we were at the zoo, too.”

“It’s bright and sunny here, but I’m not a sightseeing person. Not here at least.”

“What, the Hollywood sign isn’t good enough for you?”

“No,” I say with a chuckle. “Give me some ancient ruins and I’m happy. This isn’t my thing.”

“I miss you,” she tells me. “You’ll find out tomorrow when you can leave, right?”

“In theory. Hopefully everyone is able to stay on task and I’ll be able to sit down with the editor in charge of acquisitions and we can get shit done.”

“Poor baby. I’ll make sure to take care of you when you get back. You’ll be in need of a lot of TLC, after all.”

“Fuck, yes.”

I hear a door open and close and then voices, talking and laughing, coming through the phone. Someone calls Ana’s name. “I have to go, dinner’s ready. I’m still at Luke and Lexi’s house. I’ll call you when I get back to your house.”

“It’s yours now, too.”

“Oh, right. It is,” she says and I can tell she’s smiling. “Bye, Cole. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

I hang up and toss the phone on the hotel bed, getting up to stretch. I sleep like shit when I’m not at home and have stayed up late every night working on edits, which kept me on schedule, thank the fucking Lord. I hate getting behind. Knowing there are a few more hours until Ana goes back to the house and is alone again is comforting. Despite how busy I’ve been trying to sort out the mess at this LA-based imprint, there’s been a constant ball of anxiety winding tighter and tighter inside of me as time passes. It would kill me if anything happened to her.

Remembering Ana’s words about taking a break, I close my laptop and grab my wallet and room key. I make it down to the lobby before I realize I forgot my phone. Since I don’t plan to be out long, I leave it upstairs and walk out into the sunlight. Unlike usual, I have no plan or end game, other than finding something to eat and heading back to my room.

Forcing myself to relax and enjoy the weather like Ana suggested, I wander down the street and find myself at some sort of art fair. The first booth I see has handmade coffee mugs, and two that are shaped like pineapples catch my eye. I buy them both, then walk around looking for anything else I could get Ana.

An hour later, I’m crossing the hotel lobby with a bag full of things for Ana and another full of food. It’s been a while since I got to buy presents or surprise anyone. I missed this. Though what I have with Ana transcends anything I had before.

“Mr. Winchester?”

I look up to see one of the hotel’s receptionists coming out from behind her desk.

“Yes?”

“Your friend was here looking for you. He seemed very concerned and tried to go into your room. It’s against our policy and I need to remind you that outside guests can’t have keycards.”

“My friend?” I question. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m here on business and don’t have any personal ties to the area. I’m not expecting anyone.”

The woman—Jackie, as her nametag reads—pushes her eyebrows together. “You are Cole Winchester, right?”

“I am.”

She smiles. “You have a face I knew I wouldn’t forget. He specifically asked for you and said you two were supposed to meet and that it was really important.”

I shake my head, wondering if it was Dave from the imprint coming to bug me. He has my cell number—fuck. My phone is upstairs. “If you see them again, I’ll come down. No need to send anyone up.” My dislike for Dave is growing by the minute. He couldn’t be bothered to do his fucking job and now he’s bothering me on my day off.

“All right, sir. And if you need anything…” Her eyes linger over me for a second too long. “Don’t hesitate to ask. Customer service is very important to us.”

I give a tight smile and hurry to the elevator and into my room. Setting Ana’s bag down first, careful not to break any of the fragile items inside, I grab my phone with my free hand.

There are no missed calls.

No new texts.

And no emails from Dave or anyone at the imprint.

Weird.

I turn on the TV, flipping through channels as I eat. Ana calls when she leaves Luke and Lexi’s and we talk her entire way back to the Upper East Side. I stay on the phone with her until she’s safe in the house, armed the security system, and checked all the cameras. It’s later there than it is here, and she’s tired. We say goodnight, and I get back to work, editing until I can’t keep my eyes open. I fall asleep with my computer in my lap.

Around four a.m., I’m startled awake by the sound of someone jiggling the exterior handle to the door leading into the room. I think. Maybe? I sit up, move my computer to the side, and blink through the dark, listening. It’s too early for housekeeping, and they always knock.

I must have been dreaming. I turn my head to the side, stretching out my sore muscles, cramped from falling asleep sitting up. I turn the pillows down, getting comfortable for my remaining two hours of sleep.

And then I hear it again.

Someone is at the door. I spring up, annoyed more than anything at that moment, and go to the door. The chain lock is on, so even if someone did have a card, they couldn’t get in. I reach to unlock it, sure that I’ll have to direct someone’s drunk ass to the right room, and then hesitate, moving my face to the peephole first to see what kind of mess I’ll be dealing with.

I can’t see out of it. I blink, move close again, and realize someone has their finger over it. What the fuck? Adrenaline surges through me and I don’t think. I just act and throw back the lock and open the door.

He must have known. He must have been waiting. I step into the hall just in time to see him running away. The shock hits me and that moment’s hesitation costs me my chance to catch him. I was so worried about Ana, I didn’t see this coming. Steven isn’t stalking her.

He’s stalking me.