Not again. Please not again.
Calm down, Audrey. Tobias is in prison.
You’re safe. It is not happening again.
Scratch. Scratch.
I need to just check this out.
It’s probably nothing.
Hand curled around my phone, I walk on silent feet to the door. Rise up on my tiptoes and look through the peephole.
The hallway is empty.
Scratch. Scratch.
I jump back. Heart pounding.
Jesus.
I need to call the police.
And say what?
There’s a scratching noise outside my door. Please come quickly.
I would sound like a crazy person.
I am a crazy person.
And it’s not like I can call anyone to come check it out.
The only person I have is Cole, and he is hundreds of miles away with no clue as to where I am.
Well done, Audrey.
I could just ignore it.
I could just sit on the sofa and wait it out.
I have lived through this crap once. I know not what to do.
But …
I still have to know.
If someone has somehow found me.
If this has anything to do with Tobias.
I have to know.
For fuck’s sake.
I really hate me sometimes.
Keeping a firm hold on my cell, my finger hovers close to the emergency button.
I open the dead bolts, one after the other.
Please don’t let this be starting again.
I unlatch the chain and turn the lock.
The click sounds loud in the silence. I hear it over the pulse beating in my ears.
I take hold of the door handle.
One. Two. Three.
I push down and yank open the door.
And something runs past me, bumping against my leg.
“Argh!” I yelp, tossing my phone in the air.
Eleven.
It’s the damn cat.
All that stress, and it was a cat scratching on my front door.
I let out a laugh that is half-relief, half-embarrassment at my own behavior.
Jesus, I’m such a mess.
“Christ, Eleven.”
She’s already sitting up on my sofa, looking pleased with herself.
“You scared the crap out of me.” I run a hand over my hair. Grab my phone off the floor, push it in my back pocket, and shut the door, locking it.
I walk over to the sofa and pick her up. “What the heck are you doing out again? Where’s your dad, huh?”
She purrs and nuzzles my face.
“It’s a good thing you’re cute,” I tell her. “Come on. Let’s go take you back to your dad.”
I make sure to go turn the bath taps off. The last thing I need is to flood my apartment.
The trepidation is still there when I open the door to exit my apartment. I think it will always be there.
I lock up and head for Jack’s apartment.
I’m going to see Jack.
A frisson of excitement bounces around in my stomach.
I immediately squash it down.
I’m just going to return Eleven and then go back to my apartment and finally take my bath.
I notice Jack’s apartment door is slightly ajar as I approach.
My heart stills at the same time my legs do.
Seriously, isn’t one stressful situation at a time enough?
Okay, so it was the cat.
And it could be the cat again. Maybe she let herself out of the apartment.
Cats can do that, right? Open doors and shit? They’re smart. And Eleven is definitely smart.
“Did you open the door, Eleven?” I look down at her, like she’s actually going to answer me.
Her response is to butt my chin with her head.
I take a deep breath and walk toward Jack’s door, stopping before it.
“Hello?” I call out. “Jack? You there?”
Nothing. It’s silent in his apartment too. No sounds coming from there at all.
“Why me, huh?” I say to Eleven, who looks as if she has zero cares in the world—and she has exactly that because she’s a cat.
Frigging wish I were a cat right now.
Stepping closer to the door, I push it open with the hand not holding Eleven.
“Jack!” I call out.
No answer.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “Looks like I’m going in.”
I don’t have my rape alarm on me.
My phone is in my pocket though. I get it out and get it ready for a call to 911 if necessary.
One day into knowing Jack, and look what’s happening already.
My life has been peaceful these past six months. And now, it’s been disrupted by a cute cat and her hot owner.
Listen to me. Potentially dangerous situation, and I’m thinking about Jack being hot.
I need my head checked.
Nothing new there.
Taking a deep breath, I step inside Jack’s apartment.
His apartment mirrors mine.
Except there are boxes in his living room. He did say he moved in a short time ago. A brown leather sofa. A large screen TV sitting on a wooden sideboard.
“Jack,” I call out again.
Still nothing.
I walk carefully through the living room, heading to the small hall that I know will lead to the bedroom and bathroom.
Both doors are open.
One wide open, showing me it’s the bathroom, and it’s empty of Jack.
The other, only slightly ajar.
Which is his bedroom.
I knock on the door. “Jack?”
Still no answer.
I slowly push open the door with my hand.
The bedroom is empty too.
“Why are you in my apartment?” The deep voice comes from behind me.
I simultaneously scream and spin on the spot. In turn causing Eleven to freak out. She ejects from my arms and bolts. I feel a sharp pain on my arm. But my heart is beating too hard, adrenaline rushing through my body too quickly for me to pay it any attention.
“Jesus! Jack!” I press my hand to my chest. I’m panting, out of breath, like I just ran a marathon.
Jack is staring at me with a mixture of amusement curling his mouth and apprehension in his eyes.
Which makes sense. Because he just found his neighbor, whom he met only yesterday, standing in his bedroom.
“S-sorry,” I stammer. “Eleven was at my door, scratching it, and I was ju-just bringing her back to you. Your door was open, and I called your name, but you didn’t answer. I was worried, so I came in to check that you weren’t hurt or anything. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not every day I come home to find a pretty girl in my bedroom.”
Unease slides down my spine, freezing my body up, at the same time my brain registers that Jack thinks I’m pretty.
The unease must show on my face though because the smile on his face disappears, and he’s quick to say, “Sorry, that was a bad pun.”
“Oh. Oh, okay. Right.” I fidget nervously. “Will Eleven be okay?”
“Yeah. She’ll be fine now. Not much fazes her.”
He backs up, walking out of his bedroom, and I follow him through to the living room.
And there, chilling on the sofa, is Eleven.
“Told you.” He smiles in the direction of his cat.
I look over at Eleven. “Sorry I scared you, cutie.”
“I thought I had shut the door,” Jack says to me, heading into the open-plan kitchen. “I must not have latched it properly.”
My legs stop in the living room, but my eyes follow him to the kitchen. “You didn’t lock it?” I ask, confused.