Page 4 of Mated to the Mountain Bear
I feel like crying. They don’t believe me. They’ve already decided I’m just under a lot of pressure, teetering on the edge. They’re just too nice to say it.
“Excuse me,” I say quietly. “I’m going to… clean up a bit.”
Standing now, trying not to get annoyed by the pitying looks I’m getting, I head for the bathroom. Before I get ten feet away, I’m already pulling out my phone, scrolling through my contacts. My wet fingers slip on the screen as I press call and pray he picks up.
“Lennox.” The voice is rough with sleep, but alert. I cover my mouth with my hand and keep my words hushed.
“Um, hi. I’m sorry to wake you, Mr. Lennox. My name is Zara Reeves. Someone broke into my apartment tonight, and I don’t know what to do.”
Nothing. He probably thinks I’m being overly dramatic, too.
“He’s been stalking me for weeks.” Desperate for help, for someone to believe me, I add, “Detective Harris gave me your number.” Hoping her referral will give me some credibility.
It seems it does, because after a moment of agonising silence, I hear rustling and the sound of a belt being closed. “Where are you?”
The relief is immediate, like I can finally breathe again. Someone’s going to help me. “I’m at Rosie’s Diner on Fifth Street.”
I can hear him moving then the jingle of keys. There’s a pause. “Lisa Harris gave you my number?”
He seems surprised.
“She said that if I wanted extra security, I should call you.”
A deep, amused chuckle. “Interesting.” Another pause. When he speaks again, his voice sounds different, more focused. I’ve got his attention.
“You said Rosie’s on Fifth?”
I hesitate. Should I do this? Maybe I should just leave it to the police.
But when I glance up and both officers are looking at me like I’m the one they should be worried about, not the man I’m convinced is still lurking outside, I decide to take my safety into my own hands.
“Yes.”
Immediately, it feels like the right decision.
“Ten minutes. Don’t leave. Don’t go anywhere with anyone else. And I meananyone.”
2
ZARA
The line goes dead. I return to the booth, stare at the phone for a moment, then set it on the sticky tabletop. Morrison is watching me with narrowed eyes.
“Someone coming to get you?”
I nod, wrapping my arms around myself to warm up. “Yes, sir.”
The air conditioning in the diner feels arctic against my damp skin. I’m shivering so hard, my jaw hurts, the adrenaline leaving my body, and letting me feel just how cold it is.
Morrison’s jaw tightens slightly, but he dips his head lower to give me some friendly advice. “Probably best to stay with someone until you feel better.”
As if I had any intention of going back there tonight.
The temptation to insist it’s not all in my head is strong, but I know getting angry will just confirm their suspicions, that I’m nothing more than a hysterical woman struggling with her grief.
Instead, I focus on the fact that I’m safe in here, for now, and I gratefully accept the hot mug of coffee slipped into my hands by the still slightly shell-shocked server. She keeps looking at thedoor like she’s expecting more trouble to burst through it any second.
But he’s too clever for that. He likes to stay in the shadows.
