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4
The clasp on the box creaks as I unlatch it. Lifting the lid, there sits the original folded piece of paper. I reach in and take it out, slowly opening it. There’s a name neatly written in the middle that makes no sense.
Grandmother.
What the hell is this about? Six months ago, this would have meant nothing to me, and it means nothing to me now. I put it aside and unfold the newest piece of paper. The same name is there. Grandmother. Only this time, there’s a phone number. I pull out Hunter’s card to see if it’s the same as his, but it’s not.
What is he getting at?
I’m left with a heap of questions I am not sure I want the answers to.
But that’s the thing about rabbit holes—once you start down them, you can’t seem to stop. I put Hunter’s number in my phone, typing him a message.
Do you like playing little games? I opened your notes, and neither of them makes sense.
My hand hovers over the ‘send’ button. Finally, I hit it, curiosity getting the best of me. A part of me wants the answers. If I were smart, I’d leave it alone and walk away.
I’m risking ending up in a grave again. Only this time, there won’t be a savior to rescue me from that hell.
I stand from my couch, confused and frustrated, and go to my bedroom to get ready for a shower. My phone pings, alerting me to a message and making me pause in the bathroom doorway. I glance at my cell but choose to shower first.
When I turn on the hot water, a mist swirls around me, embracing me like a warm hug. It fills the room, causing the mirror to fog up as I adjust the heat to the right level. A cascade of water caresses my worn-out body, and I slowly edge myself to the bottom of the shower, the heaviness of today weighing on me.
My thoughts turn to Hunter.
What could he possibly want with me?
Earlier today, I looked into his dark, whiskey-colored eyes. They weren’t scary. They were cautious, as if he was always on the lookout, waiting for something to go wrong. Maybe in his world, things do.
I should stay away from him, but an invisible wire pulls me toward him. I’m a puppet on a set of strings, and he is moving and making me his toy.
I scrub away the day and climb out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body. Pulling the door open, I freeze immediately. Something is off. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It’s as though a rock has been lodged in the pit of my stomach. As I stare out the bathroom door, I am sure I left the lights on, and I know I locked the apartment as I walked in tonight. It’s instinct.
Perhaps it’s a power outage?
No, because the bathroom light would have gone out as well.
I step out of the light, and a familiar scent hits my nostrils. Pine. It’s him—it has to be.
“Hunter?” I whisper into the darkness.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I catch a dark figure moving on my couch. I step back toward the bathroom, ready to shut the door.
“Stop.” The sound of the familiar, powerful voice—it’s like a brick wall has been built behind me, stopping me from backing away.
My hand clutches my towel in the hopes it stays in place. Now, my heart races for a different reason. The way my body reacts to this man’s voice isn’t something I’ve experienced before, and it shouldn’t be reacting this way. It’s an inappropriate time. That same part of me telling me to move on from this entire situation tells me to run far away from this man because he’s dangerous.
The only thing is that being dangerous is what makes him so appealing.
I stalk toward the light switches.
“Don’t turn them on. No one can know that I’ve come to you. It’s for your safety and also mine.”
“I need to get dressed. I’ve just had a shower.”
He clears his throat. “I’m not stopping you from going to your room. I only ask that you keep the light off out here. This meeting must remain secret.”
I could lock myself in my room and wait for him to leave. Would he leave? I don’t think he would. He seems to be a man who is in control and gets what he wants.
