Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Is it possible someone is planning to hurt her?
Not on my fucking watch. I speed through every intersection. Somehow karma is on my side because I only hit one red light on the way to her house.
Chapter 20
Hayden
I’m just drifting off to sleep, snuggled deep in my bed, head buried under the covers when a loud banging startles me awake.
Fear grips my chest making it suddenly hard to take full breaths without gasping.
Maybe it was part of a dream, like those times you jolt awake when you fall.
But then the banging happens again.
Regretting that I haven’t bought a gun, I grab the only weapon I have in the house—a baseball bat I picked up when the company was thinking about forming a softball team. At Parker’s urging, I bought all the necessary supplies, and after the break-in, I pulled this from the back of my closet.
“Hayden! Open the door!”
The familiar voice startles me even more. What in the hell is he doing banging on my door in the middle of the night? He could’ve called or texted. Hell, he could’ve done that days ago, and I would’ve been receptive to the attention. Showing up like this isn’t winning him any points as far as I’m concerned.
“Seriously?” I snap when I jerk the door open. It doesn’t occur to me that I’m alone and any man has the potential to hurt me, especially ones standing on the stoop with angry, scowling eyes.
I lift the bat even higher, resting the heavy thing on my shoulder.
His eyes soften when he looks from the wood and back to my face. “Really? I teach you how to shoot a gun and you answer the door with a fucking bat? Jesus, Hayden.”
“If you’re interested in a booty call, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
I wonder if I spoke too soon when his hands clasp the top of the doorframe and he leans in closer.
“I need you to pack a bag.”
“I’m definitely not leaving my house in the middle of the night.”
“It’s not up for negotiation. You’ll need several days’ worth. Go, Hayden.”
His boot presses against the door, preventing it from closing when I shove it forward.
Maybe I had him all wrong, put him up on some sort of pedestal, because the man is clearly crazy.
“I want you to come with me.”
“Really? I’m just supposed to jump for joy that you show up without calling and I’m supposed to pack a bag in the middle of the night. That’s not how it works, Quinten. Please leave.”
A part of me, that crazy woman who inwardly craves an adventure, questions why I don’t just see where this goes, but I shove her voice down like I always do. Adventure at my age is ridiculous. Wild and crazy is meant to happen in college, and even though I missed out on it then doesn’t mean I get to act irresponsibly now.
“There’s something wrong with your security system.”
That stops me cold, and I pull my hand away from trying to shove the door closed.
“What? Are the cameras broken?”
“There’s interference.”
“Like static?”
His jaw clenches, and it’s clear he knows more and isn’t too sure about sharing it.
“I’m not going anywhere with you unless you explain what’s going on.”
Not feeling like I’m in any danger where this man is concerned, I prop the bat against the wall and cross my arms over my chest. In my head, I’m immoveable, but I know he could pick me up and carry me out of here without getting the least bit winded. I also know he’d never do that. At least I don’t think he would.
“Wren was running diagnostics, and he says there’s a delay.” I noticed the same thing the other night after Parker left and again yesterday and today. “He’s trying to find out who it is, but he’s certain someone has tapped into your system.”
My eyes dart to the tiny camera pointing directly at me from just above his head.
“S-Someone is watching me?”
“It’s a possibility. Don’t freak out. I’m here and I won’t let anything happen to you, but I need you to go pack a bag. Like now, Hayden.”
My feet move me toward my bedroom before my brain even has the chance to catch up to what he said.
I’m under surveillance? No, that word is used by police, and I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m being stalked?
I think back to all the times the hairs on the back of my neck stood up in the last couple of months. I figured it was fear from the burglary but knowing someone could’ve actually been watching me instead of my mind going wild makes my skin crawl. I move even faster, not really paying attention to what I’m shoving into my suitcases.
He said to pack for a few days, but I fill the two suitcases I have until they’re bulging, praying I managed to get a little of everything.