Shit. Shit. Shit.
I pocket my phone, not slowing down, and leap onto the crates. I can hear heavy footsteps pounding after me as I jump up and launch myself toward the top of the wall. I manage to grab onto it and start to hoist myself over it when I feel fingers wrap around my ankle.
Panic seizes ahold of me as the person starts to drag me back down, and I use my other foot to kick at them. I can’t see what I’m doing, but I feel the heel of my thick boot smack against something, their face, I’m assuming by the way they cry out in pain. It does the trick, too, and they release their hold on me.
I move quickly, not glancing back as I haul my ass onto the wall. Then I jump down the other side, wincing as I twist my ankle. But I don’t let it affect me. I run toward the front doors of the store. But right before I run inside, I glance over my shoulder at the wall.
No one is there.
that still doesn’t bring me any sense of comfort. For all I know, they could be running around to the front of the store after me.
I go inside and duck down the nearest aisle. Then I lean against the shelf and struggle to catch my breath.
Crap. Crap. Crap. What the heck just happened? Better yet, what was that person planning on doing if they caught me? Was it just to scare me? Or was there a more sinister reason behind it? And does the blackmailer have anything to do with it?
I retrieve my phone from my pocket and check to see if I have any messages from them. Nope.
What’s going on? Why is this happening? What do they want from me?
Pressure builds inside my chest, and I feel like screaming it out of me. But I know I can’t do that right now, so I press my lips together and swallow it all down. Then I make my way over to the soda selection and pretend like I’m in here to buy a drink, which I was planning on doing anyway. But now I’ve got to figure out what to do.
If I tell someone what happened, will the blackmailer come after me? It’s hard to decide the answer since I’m not sure if they’re a part of it. If I don’t tell anyone, though, I’ll have to go back into that alleyway by myself and finish painting the wall.
I briefly close my eyes as anxiety lashes through me.
I don’t know what to do.
I need help.
Taking a deep inhale, I call West.
“Hey,” he answers after three rings. “What’s up? No, let me guess. You couldn’t wait until seven to hear my sexy voice.”
A hollow sort of laugh slides past my lips.
West must sense something in the noise because he says, “What happened?”
“I don’t …” I peer around at all the customers nearby. For all I know, any of them could be the hooded person who chased me. “I need a favor. I’m at the store right now, and I was painting over my graffiti when … this person showed up and sort of chased me. They didn’t really do anything other than kind of scare me, and I’m not sure why they did it, but it has me nervous and worried, and I still need to go out and put another coat of paint on the wall, but I don’t want to go out by myself. And I don’t know who else to call, because I’m not sure if this has to do with the blackmailer or not. And I …” I trail off, realizing that I’m rambling and that West hasn’t said much of anything, which I find kind of strange. “Anyway, can you …? Can you come here and hang out with me while I finish up? I mean, I get if you’re, like, busy or something, but …” I internally sigh. God, I sound pathetic. I hate asking for help. I’m desperate, though. And freaked out.
It takes West a few seconds to respond, and the growl in his tone startles me a bit. “Where are you right now?”
I chew on my thumbnail. “In the store.”
“Okay, just stay there until I get there,” he says intensely. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
“O-okay,” I stammer like a fucking idiot, but the fierceness in his tone was alarming. West is rarely intense, and almost always sarcastic, so this is definitely a side of him I haven’t seen.
After we hang up, I spend the next five minutes pretending to be deeply engulfed in a dilemma of what soda I want when I’m really sneaking peeks at everyone and trying to figure out if they’re the person who was in the alleyway, all while waiting for West to show up. I didn’t think to ask him how long it’d take for him to get here. I probably should’ve because, eventually, I’m going to have to go outside before the owner notices that I’m not doing what I’m supposed to.
About seven minutes into my waiting, a person snags my attention. A guy, actually, maybe a few years older than me, with dark hair, dark eyes, and this weird circular tattoo on the side of his neck. He isn’t wearing a hoodie or gloves, but he could’ve ditched those items easily. Not that any of this is suspicious, but the way he’s watching me is.
He’s standing on the other side of the shelf that I’ve been loitering in front of and keeps sneaking glances in my direction, only to look away when I glance at him. Finally, I can’t take it anymore. Yeah, I may be scared and uneasy, but I’m not—and refuse to be—the kind of person who lets someone openly toy with me.
I turn toward him, crossing my arms. “Can I help you?”
A slow smile curves across his lips. “Yeah, actually.” He steps toward me, and my heart instantly spikes. “You got a boyfriend, pretty girl?”
Oh my God, is he actually shitting me right now?
“Seriously?” I question. “That’s your best pickup line?”
His smile grows. “I guess I’m a little off my game today.”
The way he annunciates game makes me pause.
“I’ll try to do better, though,” he continues, his smile growing. “That is, if you don’t have a boyfriend.”
I think about what the blackmailer is having me do—pretend to date West so I can break his heart. They mentioned that I was going to play their game several times.
Is this the person who’s been harassing me? If it is, then I’m even more confused since I have no clue who they are. Still, even the possibility that they could be sends a jolt of panic through me, and I start to back away from him.
“I have to go,” I mutter then spin around to leave.
“What’d I say?” he asks innocently.
Then laughter hits my back as I duck down the closest aisle. I powerwalk about halfway down it then spin around to see if he’s following me. No one’s around, but I’m beyond nervous—
Arms suddenly encircle my waist. Then a slamming heartbeat of a second later, my back is touching someone’s chest. I’m about one step away from going all self-defense and kicking some ass when a familiar voice whispers in my ear.
“Relax, baby,” West says softly while stroking his fingers along my waist. “It’s just me.”
I exhale shakily then lean into him, seeking comfort in him for a moment. As the scent of his cologne and his warmth wraps around me, I find myself wanting to turn around, bury my head into his chest, and pretend the last half hour didn’t happen.
“You okay?” he asks, kissing the back of my head.
I start to nod, but then I end up shaking my head, too freaked out to lie. “There was this guy, and he was talking to me, and he kept using words that the blackmailer uses. But I don’t know if I was being paranoid, and I …” Heaving out a sigh, I spin around and face him. Then I instantly frown. “What the hell happened to your face?” I reach up to touch the cut running along his hairline, but then I pull back, worried touching it will hurt him.