But I know who she’s dressed up for. She didn’t just spontaneously decide to give me a show. Nah, this has to be for that stupid fucker that gave her his number at the grand opening.
Chance Miller.
A dead man.
“Get me home, now,” I command.
Dom hits the gas, turning on the illegal emergency lights he had installed last year. Cars move out of our way, getting into the right lane as we speed.
I type out a message to my girl, smiling when I press send.
Me: You’re fucking stunning, baby. I hope your little boyfriend knows how to fight.
I watch as Loxley checks her phone, her head shooting up as she surveys the apartment. She looks toward the kitchen’s camera and I hold my breath.
“Are you watching me?” She asks out loud, her tone hard.
My fingers fly across the screen, and I wait for her reaction. She looks down when her phone vibrates.
Me: Such a smart girl. Fuck, I can’t wait to make your mascara run.
She scoffs at the screen before shoving her phone in her clutch and looking around her apartment. “Fuck you! I’ll deal with this when I get back.”
She stomps to the door, locking her system before throwing the door open and entering the hallway. I switch the feed over to the apartment cameras and follow my girl out of the building. I pull up the outside cameras, getting a good lookat the license plate number on the white Honda waiting for her at the curb. Chance gets out of the driver’s seat, dressed in black slacks and a navy button-down and looking like a fucking tool. He moves to the passenger door, taking Loxley’s hand as he helps her in.
My fingers grip the phone tighter, nearly cracking the device. My eyes remain on the spot where their hands are joined, every way I can remove the appendage from Chance’s body playing like the goriest snuff film in my head.
Oh, he’s definitely dead.
Once I separate them, my girl is getting her punishment for this little display of disobedience, and I’m going to mount Chance’s fucking head over my fireplace.
“Drop me off at my house,” I say ominously to Dom. “I need to get a few things.”
Chapter Seventeen
Loxley
Okay, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. After–the incident–my stalker went quiet. I assumed he had given up, but the flowers I’ve been receiving at the shop almost daily and the messages I got twenty minutes ago says otherwise.
Not to mention he bugged my apartment.
I shiver at that. There’s no telling what all he’s seen. He could have been watching me since I moved in, and I’ve had no idea.
I had made it my goal to show him I wasn’t going to stop living my life. Damn the threats and damn the invasion of my privacy. But now I feel like I’ve just made a mistake…
I hope your little boyfriend can fight.
He didn’t really mean that…
Did he?
“Are you okay?” Chance’s voice has my head turning. He looks good in casual formal, but my mind is focused on tattooed hands and blue eyes. “You’ve been quiet since we left.”
I give him a soft smile, dashing the thoughts of the very man who violated me days ago and has been peeping on me. “I’m good. Just nervous.”
Just nervous about a six-foot-five behemoth of a man who’s threatened to fight you.
He gives me a charming smile before reaching a hand across the console and gripping my knee reassuringly. “I really thought you wouldn’t have called. I’m glad you did.”