Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Instead of them, I find a tall, thin man maybe thirty feet behind me. He’s dressed in a heavy jacket, thick-soled boots, and sunglasses.
And a black ball cap.
No. No, this is impossible. I was only being paranoid that day when I thought I saw him following me. He’s just somebody who lives around here, is all. I have to believe that. I can’t let myself fall apart just because somebody is minding his own business. That’s all he’s doing, minding his own business. I should let him do it.
And I would, if it didn’t feel so much like he’s watching me.
I’m not imagining this. No way. He’s looking down at his phone, typing something, but I’m not stupid. He’s only doing that to make it look like he’s busy and not paying attention to me at all. I don’t know what makes me so sure. I guess you don’t grow up a Torrio without picking up a thing or two about body language and when somebody is following you around.
I can’t afford to lose it now. I need to get home to Romero. Maybe I should call him, have him meet me. But what would I do in the meantime? How long would it take, especially if he’s busy working?
I crouch down and shift items around in the bags to make them easier to carry, but always my attention is on the man. Does he know I know he’s there? I can’t imagine how he wouldn’t, but then he’s bad enough at what he’s doing to make it easy for me to spot him. Who knows? When he heads into the hobby shop, two doors down from where I’m trembling, I go weak with relief. Okay. Once again, I freaked myself out for no reason. The guy is just buying a model train or something. He’s not out to hurt me.
I pick up the bags and continue on, shaking my head at myself. I really need to get a grip. I also need to remember that, even though our sessions have generally turned into us fooling around with no clothes on, Romero has taught me a few more moves in case I ever do find myself in a bad situation. I am not helpless. I am not the girl I was when we first came here. I barely remember her, come to think of it. I can’t say I miss her.
The bags are getting a little heavier with every step by the time I reach the corner, and as I’m turning off Main Street, I do the sort of thing people do all the time without thinking about it: I look down the street, back toward where I came from.
My insides go icy when I see him again, this time three doors behind me, lingering in the doorway to the pet shop.
All right, this is not a coincidence. It never was. This man is definitely following me, and I don’t need to know why to know he’s bad news. Right away, I pick up my pace because what’s the point anymore? I’m tired of playing games. I know he’s following me, and he probably knows I know.
Think, damn it! But I can’t think with all the screaming panic in my head. Remember, he taught you what to do. Sure, but I was horny and barely paying attention. And it’s one thing to learn how to defend yourself, but another thing to remember all the steps at the moment. I’m supposed to… What? What am I supposed to do?
I can’t lead him back to the house, that’s for sure. Romero would probably kill him. Maybe it would be worth it. But what if Romero couldn’t get close enough? I doubt the guy is dumb enough to follow me into the house, right? So what could Romero do? No, that won’t work. My eyes dart back and forth, searching for… What? What am I trying to find? I don’t know. Help, but from who? From where?
We’re still a couple of blocks away from the house by the time I approach a garage next door to a mechanic. Typically, the doors are open so people passing by can see the mechanics working, but now they’re closed, and there’s no light coming from the windows. I throw a quick look behind me to make sure the guy hasn’t rounded the corner yet, then duck into the narrow opening between the two buildings. The brick walls are tall enough to cast deep shadows and rob me of the sun’s warmth.
He’ll probably pass by, or maybe he’ll stop once he looks down the street and doesn’t see me. He can go back where he came from, wherever that is.
I’m only telling myself what I want to believe. If the guy is after me, he’s not going to stop. Tears threaten to fill my eyes, but I blink them back, gritting my teeth in anger at myself. I’m not going to fall apart. Not now. Not ever again.