Page 12 of Blood on Ice

“Pizza,” one guy yelled.

“Tony’s,” somebody else said.

“All right,” Vince declared. “Tony’s Pizza it is.”

I was good with that plan. I could have a few beers, eat some pizza, and hang out with the team, then go home early and get some rest. And I wouldn’t think about my stalker at all.

I could do that. At least I thought I could, but as our server was bringing the pizzas we’d ordered, I saw him walking in the door.

It couldn’t be a coincidence. Running into him at the bar the other night might have been, but not him turning up where I was a second night in a row.

He raised a hand in greeting before turning the other way to follow the hostess to a table. There didn’t seem to be anybody with him, and he slid into the side of the booth that would allow him to watch me.

I looked away and focused on the food in front of me. Suddenly, I felt like I hadn’t eaten in days. I filled my plate as the rest of the guys grabbed slices for themselves.

As I took my first bite, enjoying the long cheese pull, I could feel my stalker’s eyes on me.

Don’t look, I told myself. I tried to lose myself in the conversation at the table. I drained my beer and asked for another one as soon as the waitress returned.

After three beers and a hell of a lot of pizza, I leaned back in the booth and closed my eyes.

“Another round?” our waitress asked.

Most of the guys said yes, but I shook my head and excused myself to the restroom.

I’d been hoping some of the others would want to go home. I hadn’t wanted to be the first to leave again, but I didn’t need to drink any more, and I didn’t need to stay where my stalker could watch me. I glanced his way, and as I’d guessed, he was staring at me. I quickly turned away and hurried to the restroom.

I did my business and washed up, then stood there staring at myself in the mirror. I looked tired, and my eyes were bloodshot. I’d had too little sleep and too much stress.

You’re fucking up again.

I turned and reached for the door handle, determined to say goodbye when I reached my friends’ table.

My stalker was standing in the hall across from the door.

He smiled at me, and damn it, I couldn’t resist giving him a full once-over.

“You’re following me.”

He shrugged. “What if I am?”

“Stop.”

He shook his head.

I sighed. “Fine.”

Just because he was following me didn’t mean I had to pay attention to him. I turned to leave, and he grabbed my arm. Shockwaves raced through me, and my knees weakened for amoment. His grip was tight but not hard enough to actually hurt. Was his hand really that warm? Had he rested it against a heater or something?

I tugged, trying to free myself, but he held on. I could probably take him in a fight, but I didn’t want it to come to that. “Let go.”

“Do you promise to stay still if I do?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Then I’ll have to hold on.”

“Why are you doing this?”

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