Page 67 of The Stalker Snafu

A knife block sat innocently next to the stove.

I dove, grasping at what I hoped would be the biggest knife—but ended up being a weird poking thing. Tossing it aside, I grabbed the next option and thankfully pulled out a huge, deadly doozy of a chef’s knife.

That’d do.

“Emma,” Julian called from the other room. “What are you⁠—”

“Get back!” I yelled, not even caring that the intruder couldn’t understand me as I ran back into the living room and brandished my knife at him.

You didn’t need to understand English to know what a knife meant.

My stalker jumped back, holding up both hands as his eyes widened. “What the hell?”

I gaped back, almost dropping the knife in shock. “You speak English?”

He glared at me like I was the crazy one. “What the hell are you talking about? Why are you pointing a knife at me?”

“Why are you stalking me?” I shot back, adjusting my grip on the handle.

“You think I’m stalking your crazy ass?” he asked incredulously—miraculously still in English—keeping his wary eyes on my knife as he spoke to Julian. “Who is this chick?”

“Don’t play stupid, you creeper!”

His face twisted into a scowl, and movement behind him caught my eye as another guy walked through the door. He was a carbon copy of my stalker—same dark hair, towering stature, piercing dark eyes, and toned muscles that could snap me in half straining his shirt—and the knife almost slipped from my hand again.

Something in my brain broke as my eyes flitted between the two clones.

The new arrival took in his doppelganger’s scowl with a frown before his eyes met mine and widened. He looked more shocked than I felt. “What are you doing here?”

I blinked. Did I have a delayed concussion from the incident on the quad? I’d seen double Noahs before, so it made sense.

The first stranger turned to the new arrival and looked at him like he’d grown two heads.

“What the hell, Adrian—you know her?” he asked. His scowl deepened until it twisted his lips into a sneer. “Please don’t tell me you’re stalking loonies now.”

“There’s two of you?” I asked, needing to be sure. The knife felt twice as heavy in my grip.

The first guy snorted. “Bravo, you can count.”

“Don’t be a dick, Rafe,” the one named Adrian snapped.

“Then tell me why the hell she thinks you’re stalking her?”

“Well…” Adrian scratched the back of his head and frowned at the ground. “She might’ve caught me following her a few times.”

“Yeah, and you still have a lot of explaining to do about that.” I lowered the knife an inch as an epiphany hit. I sent an accusing look at Adrian. “Wait a second. You speak English, too!”

All three guys blinked back at me, but at least Adrian had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Sorry about that…” He winced, walking over to the couch and sitting. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I snorted. Should I bring up the creepy staring first or the way he’d played stupid and felt up my hands?

Nobody seemed to care about the knife I was wielding in a very intimidating manner anymore—and I felt a little silly holding it—so I carefully set it on the end table beside me.

But I stayed close… just in case.

“Listen, as promising as whatever this situation is sounds, it’s already derailing us from the meeting I expected,” Julian said slowly. “Is there a problem here I should know about?”