Scrambling out of my blankets, I bit back a wave of apprehension.
"Bree, if this is your idea of a joke..." I started to say, opening my bedroom door and heading back through to where I'd left her asleep on my couch. "Then it's not fucking funny."
The heavy breathing continued in my ear, and when I rounded the corner of the couch, my mouth went dry. Bree was exactly where she'd been a few moments ago, tucked under the blanket I'd just placed on her and snoring softly. Fast asleep.
I swallowed heavily, frozen in place as I stared down at Bree's sleeping form, and the heavy breathing continued in my ear like it was mocking me.
"Who is this?" I whispered in a raspy voice. My eyes searched the room. Had someone broken in and taken Bree's phone? Was someone still here? "Who are you?"
No response.
"It's you, isn't it?" I asked after a moment when I spotted Bree's phone on the carpet beside the couch. I picked it up and held it in my hand, but the screen was dark. "You're my stalker. How'd you do this? Did you clone her sim card or something?"
No response, but the breathing increased in speed, laboring quickly but heavily like he was actually getting off on my fear.
Anger swept through me. "You're a fucking psychopath," I hissed into the phone, my fingers clutching the device so hard it hurt.
I placed Bree's phone down on the coffee table and left her to sleep, taking my nightmares back into the bedroom with me. She didn't need to be dealing with this shit after everything she'd told me last night. Waking her up now wouldn't change anything anyway.
"You're sick. What did you hope to achieve by this call? Huh? Just wanted to scare me? Well, bad news, fuck face. I'm not scared. I'm pissed off, and when I find you, you'll wish you'd never messed with Madison Kate Danvers. That's a fucking promise, you bastard."
I ended the call with trembling fingers, then sat there in the middle of my bed staring down at the screen for a long moment. I was a damn liar—I was terrified—but I'd be damned if I let him know that. That was what these predators fed off, wasn't it? The fear of their victims.
Small shivers coursed over my skin like I was ice cold, and my teeth chattered. It wasn't a physical cold, though. It was just straight up panic.
My phone rang in my hands, and I stifled a scream as the screen lit up with Bree's name once more. This time I didn't mess around. I rejected the call and turned my ringer to silent. Still, I sat there and stared at the screen as it happened again, and again, and again. Countless times, my stalker tried to call me from Bree's number.
Eventually, I turned my phone off completely and placed it face down on my bedside table.
I was shit-scared; I wasn't even going to pretend otherwise. But what the hell could I do at five thirty in the morning? I couldn't call anyone. What if he'd somehow tapped into my phone too? I didn't even know if that was possible, but I wasn't taking chances.
After I’d spent way too long staring at my ceiling and imagining all kinds of eyes in the shadows, I gave up on sleep. I needed to do something to work off all my anxious energy, and I was pretty sure the gym opened at five every day.
I quickly changed into work-out clothes and tied on my sneakers, then scribbled Bree a note to let her know where I'd gone in case she woke up. Doubtful, as she could sleep through a nuclear bomb when she'd been drinking, but better safe than sorry.
Leaving my apartment, I hesitated halfway to the elevator. Cass had warned me not to go to the gym without him, and the idea of even stepping foot in the elevator on my own was giving me hives.
"Fuck it," I growled under my breath and changed direction to bang on my surly neighbor’s door. He was probably asleep, but at least I could make him aware of where I was going... just in case something went wrong. I couldn’t call Kody. What if all my calls went to my stalker? Then I would basically just be setting up a date to get kidnapped or killed. Nope, my phone wasn’t safe at all.
I waited for a couple of moments, then decided he wasn't home. I’d made it two steps back toward the elevator when his door slammed open and a seriously pissed off gangster appeared in the doorway.
"Kid," he growled. "What's wrong?"
My mouth opened, but no actual words came out. He was, for all appearances, totally naked with just a towel clutched to his junk, and ink covered almost every fucking inch of him. Bree was kind of right about Cass being hot as hell... for an old guy.
"Kid," he snapped. "You’d better have a really good reason for interrupting me right now."
"Um," I started, then flushed when I heard a woman's voice from farther inside his apartment. "Sorry, I shouldn't have knocked. I was just planning on going to the gym and wanted to, uh, clear it with you I guess."
Cass stared at me, totally impassive, and I definitely regretted not just going on my own.
"Wait here," he finally said. "One minute."
His door slammed in my face before I could protest. It reopened again less than a minute later, and Cass stepped out dressed in his own work-out gear.
"You didn't have to come with me," I protested, feeling all kinds of awkward as a sultry, red-haired woman in a rumpled cocktail dress followed him into the hallway. She glared absolute daggers at me, and I badly wanted no part of that poisonous energy.
"Yes, I did." Was his only reply. He barely even acknowledged the woman as he stabbed the elevator call button, then stepped inside the box. "Come on, kid. Let's go. I've got shit to do today."
Uncomfortable as hell, I joined him and the redhead in the elevator and tried not to fidget with the tails of my braided hair while we descended to the foyer. Cass made no move to introduce me to his friend, and she was trying to skin me alive with the strength of her glare, which I pretended not to notice.
When we got to the lobby, the girl tried to pull Cass into an embrace, and he shook her off like she meant less than nothing to him. He hailed a passing taxi and all but shoved her inside, then slammed the door.
"Was that necessary?" I commented, watching the taxi drive away.
Cass just glared at me, and I found myself babbling. Better to pick apart his love life than talk about the reason I so badly needed to hit the punching bag at five thirty in the morning.
"Who is she, anyway? Girlfriend?" I fell into step with him as he strode down the block toward the gym. Or I had to take two or three steps to every one of his giant strides, but I kept up well.
He gave a grunt of disgust in reply. "Not even close, kid. She's no one."
My brows shot up. "Well, that's rude. She's clearly not no one if she’s good enough to fuck."
Cass rolled his eyes. No shit. I counted that as a win for simply getting a human reaction out of him. "Okay, fine. She's a place-filler. Happy?"
Well, now I was even more intrigued. "A place-filler is hardly an improvement on no one, but I get the picture. So... what's the story, then?"
He levelled a glare at me, holding the front door to the gym open for me to enter. "No fucking story, kid. Let it drop."
I grinned. I'd spent enough time with Cass to know he wasn't going to hurt me over a bit of teasing banter. He cared about my safety in his own gangster sort of way, regardless of what Steele thought the Reapers’ real motivations were.