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But it did not mean, however, that I’d fully forgiven him.
It was going to take a lot more than a surprise office fuck to fully get back on my good graces.
A notification dinged on my phone when I was about halfway home, so I picked it up long enough to swipe away the email, just to shake my head fast and blink twice when I saw it wasn’t an email, but a text from a restricted number.
My stomach fell straight to my ass when I read over the familiar words.
It should’ve been you.
The text came in again.
And again.
And then again.
All with nothing but the same four words.
“God damnit, Karl,” I shouted, dropping my phone in the passenger seat as I pounded my other fist against the steering wheel, my nostrils flaring.
For fuck’s sake.
Why wouldn’t he just fucking STOP already!?
My chest was painfully heaving by the time I whipped the front end of my car into my driveway, and when I got out, I immediately knew something wasn’t right because the lights on all of my security cameras scattered along the roof of my house weren’t on.
Instantly, I pulled up the security app on my phone, and then cursed heavily under my breath when I saw all of my cameras had somehow been disconnected.
“Charlotte,” Spike called for me when he got out of his car. “Is something wrong?”
He came jogging up to me, then wasted no fucking time tugging me behind him when he saw the mixture of rage and fear warring it out on my face.
“What is it?” he asked, reaching for his service pistol strapped to his side. “Talk to me, baby.”
“My cameras are off,” I whispered. “And look.” I pulled up the texts and showed them to him. “Karl showed up at my house four days ago. That same morning, there was a package delivered to me from a local flower shop with no return address. There was a card attached to it with the same four words written on it. These texts were sent to me just minutes ago.”
“Stay close to me,” Spike demanded as he withdrew his pistol and began moving closer to the house. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Charlotte. I fucking promise.”
“Wh-where’s Phoenix?” I asked, matching his pace and staying close.
“He went solo tonight at the club,” was his gut-wrenching response. “Don’t worry, he loves you and wouldn’t hurt you like that. He’s only there trying to help track down our perp.”
My lips parted, but no words came. Hell, it was all I could fucking do to think straight or remind myself to breathe normally.
“Are you expecting a package?” Spike asked as we came closer to the porch.
I shook my head. “No. I’m not.”
“There’s one in front of the door.”
My breath hitched.
Another one?
“Spike,” I worriedly cried, reaching out and grabbing ahold of his arm. “What if it’s a bomb?”
“I doubt it’s a bomb,” he said confidently. “Just stay here and let me open it.”
As hard as it was to listen, I did, waiting impatiently as Spike took his sweet fucking time ripping through the tape to open the box.
