Cole laughs. We say our good-byes, and I hang up the phone.
I go straight to the bathroom and put the tub plug in. After turning the hot and cold taps on, I pour some bubble bath in.
I wander into my bedroom, tossing my cell onto the bed. I lift my top, ready to take it off, when I hear a noise that stops me dead in my tracks.
Slowly, I lower my top back down and strain my ears to listen over the sound of the running taps.
It’s like … a tapping … no, a scratching noise.
Cold slivers down my spine.
My head swivels, my eyes looking around my bedroom and my ears trying to locate the source of the sound.
But it’s hard when my pulse is pounding loudly along with my heart.
I reach out, grabbing my cell off the bed. Pressing the off button to bring up the emergency call service.
It sounds like it’s coming from the living room.
Phone in hand, I walk quietly down the hall, going toward the living room, in the direction of the sound.
My eyes zero in on the front door.
The noise is coming from there.
Someone is outside my door.
Shit.
A dozen memories assault my mind, making me feel sick and dizzy.
Not again. Please not again.
Calm down, Audrey. Tobias is in prison.
You’re safe. It is not happening again.
Scratch. Scratch.
I need to just check this out.
It’s probably nothing.
Hand curled around my phone, I walk on silent feet to the door. Rise up on my tiptoes and look through the peephole.
The hallway is empty.
Scratch. Scratch.
I jump back. Heart pounding.
Jesus.
I need to call the police.
And say what?
There’s a scratching noise outside my door. Please come quickly.
I would sound like a crazy person.
I am a crazy person.
And it’s not like I can call anyone to come check it out.
The only person I have is Cole, and he is hundreds of miles away with no clue as to where I am.
Well done, Audrey.
I could just ignore it.
I could just sit on the sofa and wait it out.
I have lived through this crap once. I know not what to do.
But …
I still have to know.
If someone has somehow found me.
If this has anything to do with Tobias.
I have to know.
For fuck’s sake.
I really hate me sometimes.
Keeping a firm hold on my cell, my finger hovers close to the emergency button.
I open the dead bolts, one after the other.
Please don’t let this be starting again.
I unlatch the chain and turn the lock.
The click sounds loud in the silence. I hear it over the pulse beating in my ears.
I take hold of the door handle.
One. Two. Three.
I push down and yank open the door.
And something runs past me, bumping against my leg.
“Argh!” I yelp, tossing my phone in the air.
Eleven.
It’s the damn cat.
All that stress, and it was a cat scratching on my front door.
I let out a laugh that is half-relief, half-embarrassment at my own behavior.
Jesus, I’m such a mess.
“Christ, Eleven.”
She’s already sitting up on my sofa, looking pleased with herself.
“You scared the crap out of me.” I run a hand over my hair. Grab my phone off the floor, push it in my back pocket, and shut the door, locking it.
I walk over to the sofa and pick her up. “What the heck are you doing out again? Where’s your dad, huh?”
She purrs and nuzzles my face.
“It’s a good thing you’re cute,” I tell her. “Come on. Let’s go take you back to your dad.”
I make sure to go turn the bath taps off. The last thing I need is to flood my apartment.
The trepidation is still there when I open the door to exit my apartment. I think it will always be there.
I lock up and head for Jack’s apartment.
I’m going to see Jack.
A frisson of excitement bounces around in my stomach.
I immediately squash it down.
I’m just going to return Eleven and then go back to my apartment and finally take my bath.
I notice Jack’s apartment door is slightly ajar as I approach.
My heart stills at the same time my legs do.
Seriously, isn’t one stressful situation at a time enough?
Okay, so it was the cat.
And it could be the cat again. Maybe she let herself out of the apartment.
Cats can do that, right? Open doors and shit? They’re smart. And Eleven is definitely smart.
“Did you open the door, Eleven?” I look down at her, like she’s actually going to answer me.
Her response is to butt my chin with her head.
I take a deep breath and walk toward Jack’s door, stopping before it.
“Hello?” I call out. “Jack? You there?”
Nothing. It’s silent in his apartment too. No sounds coming from there at all.
“Why me, huh?” I say to Eleven, who looks as if she has zero cares in the world—and she has exactly that because she’s a cat.
Frigging wish I were a cat right now.
Stepping closer to the door, I push it open with the hand not holding Eleven.
“Jack!” I call out.
No answer.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “Looks like I’m going in.”
I don’t have my rape alarm on me.
My phone is in my pocket though. I get it out and get it ready for a call to 911 if necessary.
One day into knowing Jack, and look what’s happening already.
My life has been peaceful these past six months. And now, it’s been disrupted by a cute cat and her hot owner.
Listen to me. Potentially dangerous situation, and I’m thinking about Jack being hot.
I need my head checked.
Nothing new there.
Taking a deep breath, I step inside Jack’s apartment.
His apartment mirrors mine.
Except there are boxes in his living room. He did say he moved in a short time ago. A brown leather sofa. A large screen TV sitting on a wooden sideboard.
“Jack,” I call out again.
Still nothing.
I walk carefully through the living room, heading to the small hall that I know will lead to the bedroom and bathroom.
Both doors are open.
One wide open, showing me it’s the bathroom, and it’s empty of Jack.
The other, only slightly ajar.
Which
