Intercepted (Page 26)

I keep my head down and pull my headphones out of my cross- body purse I threw on before I left the house, and blast my country playlist. I find my way out of the park, focusing on making myself small. I keep my eyes to my feet, and I walk fast, but not so fast I would draw much attention. As the park exit near Gavin’s house comes into view, the knots in my stomach ease and I stand a little taller. I know I should speed up and get the hell out, but I do the opposite. I come to a stop and contemplate whether or not I really want to do this or not.

The entrance by El Señor’s is flanked by old houses in desperate need of paint updates and housing projects, whereas the exit I’m taking is surrounded by million-dollar condos lining the streets. They’re all stunning—some kept the integrity of the neighborhood in mind and simply remodeled, others are Mediterranean with clay roof tiles, but my favorites have always been the modern ones.

Gavin’s modern one, to be exact.

It’s crazy to think of all the times I walked by, blissfully unaware of its occupant, and would stop and stare. I used to wonder what kind of countertops were in the kitchen, what the light fixtures looked like, but now I spend more time than I’d ever admit wondering what his bedroom furniture looks like. I think about how his sheets would feel against my skin or, if, when I get off of his bed, my feet would hit cold wood floors or soft carpet.

The flickering streetlight draws my gaze from the empty path in front of me up to the orange light when a glare off of something pulls my attention back down.

The glare came off a silver tooth.

I’d always thought if I found myself in a situation like this, I’d run. No thinking, no second guessing. I’d turn and run.

Not so.

He leans toward me and pulls my headphones out of my ears.

“Didn’t anyone teach you it’s not safe to listen to music while you walk, especially for someone with a sweet little ass like yours?” he asks, his hot breath warming my ear. “They should also tell you not to trust junkies like James. They’ll sell you out every time if it means they can get their next fix.”

Fuck.

James. His story makes so much more sense now. If I make it out of this alive, Naomi’s gonna freak.

If I make it out alive.

The thought goes through my head again . . . and again. My feet feel like they’re glued to the pavement beneath me. I already knew this guy was dangerous, but with him this close, the strong scent of alcohol and body odor mixing with my fear causes my stomach to turn. My eyes widen, and I can’t seem to get enough oxygen. His mouth twists into a sardonic smile as he watches my fear turn into panic. I knew this sick fuck got a kick out of this shit.

He must see my stance change from one of a scared, frozen girl to one preparing to run, because before I’m able to release the scream building in the back of my throat, he throws and lands a hard punch to my jaw.

My fight-or-flight instincts finally kick in. I clench my sweaty palms into a fist and throw a quick cross, catching him, and myself, off guard. His eyes widen with either shock or respect, I’m not sure which, and I don’t wait around to see. I turn on my heel and will my shaky legs to help me run as hard and fast as I can.

I don’t get too far when he grabs the purse wrapped around me and jerks me backward, causing me to stumble to the ground. The beat of whatever song is playing on my phone and his sick laughter form a sickening melody. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself for what I know is about to come, and when he gets close enough, I snap my leg up and nail him right between the legs. He groans and before he even hits the ground, I’m back on my feet running.

I can’t hear anything other than the sound of blood rushing through my ears as I’m darting down the street. Not my breathing, not the frantic rhythm of my Nikes hitting the pavement, not the sound of my lipstick and phone as they fly out of my purse and onto the sidewalk. Hell, I don’t even know where I’m running until I reach Gavin’s house. I don’t slow to make the turn into his walkway and my feet slip from beneath me, causing my hip to collide full force with the cement. I push the pain to the back of my mind, focus on his door in front of me, and scramble back to my feet.

My chest is on fire. From what? I’m not sure. Maybe the cold air I’m swallowing with every inhale of breath or it could be from the powerful, throbbing heartbeat threatening to crack my sternum in order to escape.

“Gavin! Help!” I try to yell, but I can’t seem to get the words as I near his door. “Gavin!”

The adrenaline starts to leave my system and hysteria is quickly replacing it.

When I reach his door, my hands move at their own accord, slamming against the door with so much force, I know they’re going to be black and blue in a few days.

“Open the door, Gavin!” My voice is unlike I have ever heard it—scratchy like I’ve swallowed glass, more frightened than a wild dog. Each second I stand there, shaking and throwing myself at his door, feels like an eternity. I had managed to keep my eyes ahead, but the thought that Gavin might not be home makes me turn to see if my attacker is still there.

Icy terror grips my throat when I see him standing on the corner. Still as can be.

Watching me.

When he sees I’ve turned to him, he waves and walks away. It’s at that moment I remember what he said earlier. He knows where I live.

He wasn’t waving to say good-bye. He was telling me he’ll see me later.

“Gavin!” My shrill voice disrupts the calm night once more. My hands, sore from the punch and fall and hitting the door, try once again and at last, it works.

The solid oak door swings open and Gavin’s large form fills the doorway. I don’t say anything before I’m inside his house, slamming the door shut and turning the deadbolts.

“Marlee?” he asks, probably confused to see me at his door at all, let alone the state I arrive in.

“The guy with James. He followed me. He knows where I live. How do I go home?” I shout a bunch of broken sentences at him. I wrap my arms around my midsection to try and comfort myself against the shaking taking over my body.

“What guy, Marlee?” I hear him, but I’m not listening.

“I knew it. I knew he was no good. But I froze and holy shit, he hit me so hard.” My hand absently touches my jaw where the pain is starting to make itself noticeable.

“Marlee. What guy? What the fuck happened?”

I’ve been so focused on myself, I didn’t even notice how his posture has changed from relaxed to tight and alert.

“The guy with James. He . . . he . . . I was listening to music and the light got crazy when I was almost out of the park. He came out of nowhere. I don’t know what he wanted. I dropped my phone while I was running, but when I got to your door, he was still standing there watching me and then—”

I don’t even finish the sentence before Gavin has the door open and is stalking down the walkway to the sidewalk.

“No! Gavin, come back!” I saw the guy walk away, but for some reason, I can’t convince myself he’s not still out there. Maybe with a weapon, ready to hurt me . . . hurt Gavin. I stumble back into the wall behind me and flinch with the painful reminder of slamming into the concrete outside. I lose the strength to hold my body up and melt down onto Gavin’s hard, cold floor.

I don’t yell for Gavin. I don’t look out of the window to make sure he’s okay. That would all take energy I no longer have. I don’t even have the strength to let out a sigh of relief when he walks back through his front door, safe and with my phone in his hand.