Page 20 of Property of Scythe
He stares at me like he doesn’t believe the answer. “You sure?”
Well, I almost got taken out by a scarecrow, I want to say. I don’t. “I got a bit spooked. I’m fine.”
“Spooked how?” He appears concerned.
“It’s nothing. I thought I heard someone following me.”
“Show me where it happened.”
I want to brush it off, but maybe it’s a good idea for him to take a look so that I can dismiss this experience as paranoia. With my past, it’s possible it all took place in my head. The trauma left me with residual fear that likes to pop up at the worst times.
But I’m wrong. As we approach the section of the street where I felt someone following me, Scythe gestures to the ground. In the mud, larger footprints are trailing behind smaller, daintierones. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out someone did actually follow me. Was it for nefarious reasons? I don’t know.
“Whoever it was, they almost caught you.” He frowns. “If you weren’t running, I don’t know what would have happened.”
Great. “Shit,” I curse.
“Hey, I’m sure it was just another runner. Lots of people like to take advantage of the cooler temps in the evenings to get some exercise. It doesn’t mean anything bad.”
Nice try. “It felt creepy,” I admit.
He looks bothered by my words. “This is a safe town. All that shit that happened here took place a long time ago.”
Maybe so, but I still felt off, like whoever was watching never left the area. “I still feel it, Scythe.”
“Feel what?”
“Like I’m being watched.”
“Fuck.” He scans the storefronts around us, his gaze bouncing from one end of the street to the other. “I don’t see anything out of place or anyone suspicious. Would you feel safer if I walked you home?”
“Definitely,” I reply without hesitation.
Scythe walks beside me as we head back to my building. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Is there anyone bothering you? Or who could have followed you from California with bad intentions?”
The question nearly knocks me on my ass. He’s asking about my past. I won’t talk about the attack. I can’t. I came here to forget about it, not look over my shoulder and wait for it to happen again. “I don’t think so,” I finally manage to choke out, hoping he doesn’t notice how his question affected me. Since the asshole who hurt me is still in prison, I don’t have anything to worry about.
Scythe nods. “Good.”
We don’t say a lot, but I don’t feel the need to fill the silence with meaningless chatter.
When we reach my building, I turn toward him. “Thanks for walking me home. It’s probably silly, but I’m glad you were there.”
“Me too.” He sounds sincere. “Have a good evening, Lottie.”
“You too, Scythe.”
Later, as I stand in my kitchen and make a cup of hot tea, I glance out the window, and I notice Scythe sitting on his motorcycle, smoking a cigarette. I’m surprised he came back, and it makes me wonder if he’s not convinced that whoever followed me is harmless.
My night is restless, and I get up twice to pace my living room, looking out the window at the spot where I saw Scythe earlier. Both times, a motorcycle and rider are parked under the streetlight as if keeping watch. I don’t have to see the leather vests to know it’s his club, the Kings of Anarchy, keeping me safe.
Chapter 8 Scythe
Ididn’t want to scare Lottie, but someone followed her, and they didn’t just run behind her. I saw evidence of the same shoe prints tracking her to several places in town. Pissed, I dialed Phantom’s number after I watched Lottie enter her building.
