Page 87 of Frozen Hearts
My gaze is so riveted on her that I pick up on how her arms are folded across her chest in a defensive posture, her tight, fake smile in response to whatever the douchecanoe beside her says.
It’s enough to have me focusing on him instead, and I snarl quietly when the slimy bastard I saw her talking to earlier gestures toward his car. I don’t need to hear what he’s saying to know what he’s asking. His dirty fucking intentions withmy girl.
Not your girl, the pesky little voice in my head pipes up, and I growl in response, uncaring of that little factoid right now.
Riley shakes her head, but Fuckface doesn’t let up, continuing to try and lure her into his car, doling out that smarmy fucking smile of his as though it were candy.
Hell to the motherfucking no.
I don’t give a shit who he is; she is not getting in that motherfucking car!
A gust of air passes my lips when she shakes her head, this time pairing it with a step backward that puts more distance between them.
Good girl.
Oblivious or uncaring, he continues talking, and Riley glances around her as though seeking an escape. I don’t fucking like it.
I don’t like that he’s not taking no for an answer.
I don’t like her standing in a dark parking lot alone with him.
And I sure as fuck don’t like the leering way he’s looking at what’s mine.
My hand tightens around the door handle, and I’m .2 seconds away from tearing it open and storming over there when he finally steps away from her, moving toward his car.
She stands and watches him climb in with a guarded expression, waiting until he leaves the lot before the tension drops from her shoulders. Just as my anger starts to dissipate, she starts walking toward the sidewalk, and in an instant, my rage comes roaring back, full force, this time directed towardher.
Is she for fucking real right now?I glance down at the clock glowing on my dashboard. It's nearly 2 a.m. and she’s going to walk home alone?!
I begin counting in my head, only making it to ten before I throw the car into gear and slowly roll out of the parking lot after her.
22
RILEY
Shaking off the slimy residue of Ben’s ogling eyes, I try to ignore the way his jaw ticked when I refused his offer of a ride home. He has asked me to stay late and lock up with him several times now, and ever since that first night, he has grown bolder with his advances.
He’s no longer even trying to be subtle, barely listening whenever I say no or turn him down.
It’s starting to make me seriously uncomfortable, and I’m not sure what to do. I can’t see a way out of it other than to quit my job, which I can’t afford to do.
The street is dead as I briskly walk along the sidewalk, and I push my panicked thoughts aside as I focus on my surroundings. I hate making this journey so late. The streets are eerie in the pre-dawn hours. Especially in this part of town, where the homeless gather and people with nothing better to do drive around aimlessly. My body tenses every time a car passes, and I swear they seem to slow down as they go by.
I always make sure to wear jeans and cover myself up when I’m leaving the club, not wanting to draw any more attention than necessary. The last thing I want is to be mistaken for a prostitute. It’s bad enough that men push their luck in the club with the girls working the floor despite the presence of bouncers. I can only imagine how some entitled scumbag would respond to the wordnofrom a ‘hooker’.
While I walk, my thoughts turn to Ruthless. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t show up tonight. It’s no coincidence that last week we crossed a line physically and this week he’s AWOL. What is a surprise is the fact I was disappointed to discover he wasn’t waiting for me. While I enjoyed being back on the stage and performing without any interruptions, I actually missed our strange interactions. The unusual give and take. The heady sexual chemistry.
Perhaps he got what he wanted, and now he’s done with me. Now that we’ve crossed that line, the excitement has worn off. That edge of mystery lost.
Or is it possible he felt what I did, and it sent him running for the hills? He’s the type of guy that screams commitment issues, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s currently hiding out somewhere, naively assuming he can ignore his feelings until they go away.
I’m jolted out of my thoughts as xenon headlights paint the sidewalk in an eerie white glow, and the growl of a car engine grows louder as it draws near. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention and I keep my head straight, not faltering in my pace as it drives by. I breathe out a sigh of relief, which stalls when the bright red brake lights go on, burning my eyes as the large SUV stops at the curb in front of me.
I slow to a crawl as I contemplate crossing the road. The streetlights are out on the other side, and I'm weighing up my options—walking in the dark versus walking past a potential kidnapper—when the driver-side door is pushed open.
Fuck.
Nope.
