Page 43 of Endeavor

“It was nice. How was your day?”

“You brought Emma to our house,” she says without missing a beat.

“Yes, I did.”

“I assume that’s who you spent the day with.”

I give in because she won’t stop until I do. “Yes, Mother. I took Emma on a date. It was a very nice day. Anything else you want to know?”

She squeals. “I just love her to death. She is such a sweetheart and so smart. At lunch, she was telling us about—”

“Mom, let’s bring it down a few hundred notches, OK? We just started dating. Let’s not get carried away and plan my future wedding.”

“Oh…uh, fine. I’m just glad you are dating a nice girl.”

“Right. Stop playing matchmaker.”

“But it worked this time. You two could be so good together.” I practically see her playing out my entire romantic life in her mind and I grimace.

“Mom, I should go. I’m almost home.”

“Well, have a nice night. I’ll see you this week for dinner, yes?”

“Yep, I’ll see you Tuesday.”

And with that, I hang up and pull into my driveway. As I’m locking up my garage, my phone pings with an alert from my video doorbell. I open it and see a bouquet of white roses sitting there. I sprint to the front yard just as a delivery kid gets into a flower shop truck and drives away. I slowly walk up to the flowers. My body is on high alert as I scan my surroundings, but it’s a quiet evening. All I hear is the occasional car driving by. I reach down for the card sticking out of the bouquet. When I open it, I cringe.

It’s a photo of Emma and me eating lunch at the vineyard. The words below are what has my heart hammering in my chest.

"Vengeance is in my heart,death in my hand,

Blood and revenge are hammering in my head."

It’sa quote from Titus Andronicus by William Shakespeare. I only know that because my mother made me attend this ridiculous Shakespeare camp one summer because I said I might want to act. I was thirteen. It was a long summer. But it’s not the source of the quote that has my palms sweating, it’s the fact that this quote matches the many other Shakespeare quotes written on sticky notes and left on my car all those years ago when I was racing. I haven’t seen one since then, until right now.

I don’t pick up the flowers. I open my front door and lock it behind me before pulling out my phone. I dial Rhett.

“A call? The date must have been epic!”

“I got white roses and a photo of Emma and me from tonight,” I blurt out as I toss the photo on my island.

“Wait. What?”

I explain what I found.

“We need to get security now,” he states. “Hold on, I’m adding Max to the call.”

“What?” Max whines.

“Grady got white roses and a photo of his date.”

“Huh?”

“The stalker,” Rhett says. I explain quickly to Max.

“Shit, dudes. We need real security. No more bullshit stuff. Like twenty-four-seven serious guys who could kill people with their bare hands.”

“I hate to agree, but, yeah, we do,” I admit.

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