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Azra must have felt the same because she didn’t speak again. We fell silent, sinking into our own thoughts.
Mine were full of turmoil and that pop-up cupcake shop around the corner.
But mostly turmoil.
The stalker sat with so much casual nonchalance, it was a wonder that he was technically in the midst of harassing someone. He slumped back in his chair, legs sprawled out comfortably. He adjusted his sunglasses and then flipped a page of his book.
Huh. I guess he really did read.
Avoiding him wasn’t solving my problems. Waiting would only drive me insane. Living in wonder of whether I’d be snatched off the street in the middle of a job was not in my cards.
After a quiet minute, Azra asked, “What are you going to do?”
I smirked. She always did know when my gears were turning. “Gather evidence. And get a cupcake.”
“Why am I already worried?”
“Don’t be. It’s going to be fine. Just fine,” I promised. And it would be.
I had a stalker to catch.
Chapter Four
By the end of the day, my survival instincts were raw and frayed.
Despite my vow to take charge of my fate, it ate at my sanity to know his eyes were still on me. Somewhere, somehow, he was always watching.
Every survival instinct howled and vibrated with urgency. It also could have been the fifth cup of coffee and third cupcake, but honestly, how else was I supposed to cope?
I crouched behind the vitamin aisle of Aime’s Corner Drugstore, waiting for the stalker’s stupid yellow hat to come into view.
The bag of chips tucked beneath my arm stuck to my sweat-coated skin. My own crinkly football. This was the recovery snack I’d reward myself with if I survived the hour.
With my other hand, I lifted the candy bag. Three peanut butter M&M’s rolled onto my tongue.
I needed fuel for this subterfuge.
See, anyone might think that I was an unhinged woman for waiting, crouched behind rows of B-12 gummies and prenatals, phone balanced on my knee and carefully tilted so that only the camera lens peeked out the side of the aisle.
But I had a really good reason.
He always showed up. This time I’d get some concrete proof. Something I could potentially take to the police.
The quarter didn’t have any stalker-essence-juice left, which meant I had to do it the old-fashioned way and wait.
This was Day Two of Gray Wilder Getting Hunted Down. And I, Gray Wilder, was officially more irritated than terrified.
I hadn’t yet decided if that was a good thing or not.
A lady with an oversized purse walked by me, her pink leather shoes peeling at the toe. They paused beside me. Her sickly-sweet perfume streamed into my nostrils and gave me a bout of dizziness that almost toppled me over.
When she didn’t move herself along, I flicked my gaze up.
“Did you pay for those?” she sneered, her striking blue eyes locked onto my chocolate. Her lip curled, showing off the smear of pink lipstick on her front teeth.
I snapped, “I don’t know. Did you pay for that haircut? Because that would be the real crime.”
It was a lie. Her blunt bob was actually stunning.
