Cheyenne parked her car in the almost complete darkness after sunset, grabbed the brown paper bag, and locked up. Then she took her time gazing at the house-turned-rental-unit to make sure she found the right apartment. The lettering went from A to C, but the unit number on the package’s address was for 1462-D. There wasn’t a door labeled D anywhere.
She moved slowly down the sidewalk, studying the house, and just for fun went to take a look at the other side. That was when she found the dark-stained concrete steps that headed down into the ground beside the house.
Sure, go with the creepy-looking basement.
With one more glance up and down the street, which only had two other houses sectioned into rental units like this one across from an open space, Cheyenne moved quickly down the gritty steps until she reached the bottom landing. Dry leaves crunched beneath her Vans before she stepped on something soft and grossly squishy, but she ignored it. Instead, she placed a hand against the rusty metal door with a D on the top in peeling black paint and closed her eyes.
Her drow sight illuminated behind her eyelids, showing her what looked like the basement when the house was built—one giant storage room. But she did find a silhouette of one person inside, and they were human. She knew it was a human only because the shape was a dull shadow against the backlight moving through the walls. Drawing her hand away, she studied the rusty door again and shook her head.
With a deep breath, the halfling gave the metal door a quick, firm knock and waited.
A round of shuffling came from inside, followed by quick footsteps. Then the door opened all the way, and Cheyenne found herself staring at a man wearing a VCU baseball hat and grinning at her. Instantly, the sharp tingle of those watchful eyes she’d been feeling on her skin for two weeks—which she realized hadn’t turned up once today—washed back over her, only this time, the sensation moved over her face like a fan blowing straight at her. Even without the VCU hat, she knew this was the guy.
“You.” It came out low and threatening, although she was more shocked than anything else.
The man dipped his head toward her, and the grin didn’t waver. “I sure hope so. Hi, Cheyenne.”
The first thought through her mind was the image of her hands around his throat while she screamed at him to explain how he knew her name. Then she figured any good stalker knew who their target was.
“You’re the one who’s been following me.”
“Oh, that. We’ll get to that later. First, though, since you found me here, I assume you have a package for me.”
Too confused to do anything else, Cheyenne thrust the long, heavy whatever in the brown paper bag toward the man, who took it with both hands and a nod. He hefted the thing in his hands, then frowned. “It’s a little warm.”
“No one said anything about what temperature it was supposed to be.”
“Huh. Guess I overlooked that part. All right. Come on in.” The man stepped away from the door and gestured for Cheyenne to join him inside.
From where she stood, the room beyond looked like any other basement—cement walls, cement floors, one or maybe two lightbulbs she assumed hung from the ceiling and were turned on by pulling the dangling strings, judging by the light.
Staring at the man and watching for any sudden moves, the halfling slowly stepped through the doorway and into the creepy basement with the guy who’d been following her everywhere for days.
He closed the door firmly behind him, some of the dry leaves crunching when they got caught in the doorframe. Then he gestured toward the cheap folding card table off to the left and the two matching metal chairs set up across from each other. “Go ahead and take a seat.”
The halfling glanced at the table, even less inclined to sit down since it was apparently the only furniture in the room.
“Hey, relax, will ya? I’m coming too.” The man chuckled and shook his head as he crossed the cement floors toward the table. He sat in the closest chair, patted the other side of the table, and set the brown paper bag on the vinyl surface to start unwrapping the thing.
Thinking the package might have her next clue, Cheyenne relented and went to join him at the table. As she sat down in the other cheap metal chair, the man finished unwrapping the package. Amidst all that white butcher paper was a foot-long sub overflowing with banana peppers.
The halfling stared at it and gritted her teeth. “A sandwich.”
“One of the best. I get them to make it a special way for me every time. And it’s always perfect.”
He lifted one half from the paper and took a massive bite, sauce and red onions dripping onto the wrapper with thick splats. The sound of his chewing filled the basement, although he kept his lips politely sealed. The halfling clenched her fists in her lap and forced herself to stay in that chair.
Should’ve eaten it and brought him the wrapper.
Then she realized she hadn’t smelled a thing under all the odors assaulting her from the dry-cleaners and wondered just how much this guy knew about her. Specifically her enhanced sense of smell and how to work around it by sending her to pick up a snack from the dry-cleaner’s because he had the munchies.
“Hmm. It’s really not the same when it’s not cold.” The half a sub went back onto the paper with its twin, and the man rolled it all up again before sticking it back into the brown paper bag and sliding that to the far side of the table. When he looked up and saw Cheyenne glaring at him, he paused. “Oh, sorry. Did you want some?”
“This is ridiculous. I’ve spent enough time watching assholes eat sandwiches.” The halfling pushed to her
