Emery debated calling the police or a male friend—someone who could go out there with her while she yelled at him. She knew better to go out alone . . . mostly. But for some reason when she thought of this guy she didn’t get hit with a punch of fear. She lived in the city. She knew that sensation. The itchiness at the base of her neck that made her pick up her pace while walking home from the metro on dark nights.
She’d long ago developed the skill of looking forward while scanning her surroundings and not moving her head. Positioning her keys just right for a strike in her hand, if needed. Ignoring the catcalls. Planning her schedule so that she minimized risk. She hated that she had to take precautions, but life had taught her a harsh lesson about how easy it is for a young woman to disappear. The faces staring back at her in the missing-persons databases she searched all day long just highlighted that horror.
But she refused to be a victim. If Wren wanted to talk to her then he could crawl out from whatever rock he hid under. Sending his sidekick to bully her, or whatever that was supposed to be back in the coffeehouse, was not the answer. Not him. Sure, this guy threw her off. Made her restless and urged her to fight back, but he didn’t scare her. She should find him creepy, because it sure seemed like that was the impression he was aiming for, but there was something else. So, she wanted him gone.
Grabbing her phone and the bat she kept near the door, she headed for the hallway. Snuck down the corridor to the emergency staircase at the back instead of to the apartment building’s entrance. There was no need to make this easy on him. If he wanted to skulk around, fine. But she refused to pretend he wasn’t out there.
She’d give him one chance to leave. Her next move was a 9–1–1 call.
Her sneakers thudded against the steps. She turned and slipped into the laundry room and kept going. Pressed her key fob against the security pad and opened the door at the far end. Then it was a quick walk to the emergency exit a few feet away. The not-so-obvious exit.
She skipped running through the alley because no way was that happening. She insisted on using well-lit paths only. A jog around the building next to hers took her to the end of the block. From there she ducked as she sprinted across the street and slipped between two cars.
It was all a bit covert and dramatic for her taste. She preferred a quieter, practical existence. One that didn’t include racing around with a bat, but she refused to hide. He needed to see her coming. She had a point to make and would use the weapon to do that, if needed.
She slid along the side of his sedan. Black, of course. It had an expensive, foreboding feel, just like him. For whatever reason he hadn’t parked in a dark corner. Nope. He idled right there in a prime parking space, which had to be a violation of city parking etiquette. Taking up space just because did not go over well with her neighbors.
Streetlights lit her path and bathed the area around her in a sharp yellow glow. Fine with her. The more light, the better.
After a quick nod to the couple standing at the building entrance across from hers, some of her anxiety eased. Witnesses . . . perfect. With the slight twinge of worry gone, the adrenaline coursing through her ticked up. She was pretty sure she could lift his car if she had to right now.
She stopped on the driver’s side and tapped the end of the bat against the window. The guy didn’t even jump. Hell, he looked close to smiling.
He reached down and the door started to open. She slammed her foot against it and shoved with all her might. Did not lower the bat as the door clicked shut again.
He wasn’t smiling now.
“Open the window.” She shouted the order more from the energy pounding through her than any worry about being heard.
Cars traveled down the street. The couple watched from twenty feet away, fully engaged now. Emery blocked it all and focused on her would-be stalker.
The window lowered as his eyebrow rose. “Yes?”
“I called the police.”
His gaze dipped to her bat then back to her face again. “I don’t think so.”
Okay, no. Still . . . “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
The cocky bastard didn’t show any surprise. Didn’t appear to wet his pants, which was a shame. She’d kind of hoped for that reaction when she brought the bat.
“If you’d called, the dispatcher would have told you to wait inside and definitely not confront me.” His hands rested at the bottom of the steering wheel, well within view and not moving. “While I think you’re impulsive, you’re also clearly smart.”
That’s it. He spouted off police jargon then stopped after another nonsense sentence. “This is your last warning.”
He closed one eye and peeked up at her. “About what exactly?”
She decided to ignore that. Opted to look up and down the side of the car instead. “I bet it’s expensive to replace the glass on this thing.”
“Okay, tell me this. What law am I breaking?”
She refused to babble or back down. “You’re stalking me.”