“You’re staying?” I asked, surprised.

He chuckled. “No. Just making sure you get inside safely.”

I pouted at that, moving past him down my driveway and up to the front door. There was a voice from the limo driver, who still held the car door. “Sir, I will need to move the car. I’m blocking the street.”

Brad turned. “Park in the apartment complex across the street. I’ll walk over there when I’m done.”

“Yes, sir.”

I unlocked my front door, pushing it open to darkness and turning to Brad. “You can go with him. I made it in safely.” I folded my arms and leaned in the doorway.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Nope. It’s an all-or-nothing thing, babe.”

He tugged at my dress, pulled me a step forward and slid his arms around me. “Come home with me. Stay in luxury tonight.”

I set my jaw, shaking my head. He kissed the soft curve of my neck, and I pushed back on his chest. “Go. You don’t want your fancy house to get lonely.”

He sighed, taking a step back and looking at me. “Why are you being stubborn?”

“I’m not the one being stubborn. I’ve stayed at your place a bunch of times. You’ve never stayed here and it’s the principle of it. This is my house. You should be happy to sacrifice personal comfort for the chance to spend the night with me.”

“I’m too old to spend a night in a drug-filled home that might fall around my head if I lean too hard against a wall.” He took a step back and stood, the finality of the motion closing the argument.

I shrugged, turning on my heel and wiggling my fingers at him. “Fine. See ya.” I shut the door on his handsome frown, flipped the dead bolt and moved through the darkness to my room.

Thirty-One

The man drove down unfamiliar roads, following the map in his head until his headlights illuminated the tin green sign for Cambridge Road. He slowed, turning right and moving slowly down the road, passing the dejected mailbox with the number 2105 pasted on the side. He examined the house carefully as he passed. It was dark, three cars in the drive. One the tan Toyota Camry, which the DMV had verified as belonging to Julia Campbell. Once he passed the house he accelerated, following the road until it circled back to the main street. He took a left and then turned back onto her road, this time looking for a place to park.

* * *

BRAD RETURNED TO the limo, waving off the driver and opening the door himself. He climbed in and sat, looking out the window at the concrete block house, sitting beneath a lone streetlight, looking even more pathetic in the fluorescent yellow glow, like an old bald man, his head shining and face in shadow. He could see a ripped screen hanging off a front window, limp and dirty, as if it had just given up one day. A car turned down the street and drove slowly by, obscuring his view for a brief moment. This was a shit neighborhood. She shouldn’t live here. She should live somewhere with at least a sliver of privacy, of safety.

A voice spoke, and it took him a minute to realize that the driver was speaking to him. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if I should return to your home, Mr. De Luca.”

“Just wait a moment. I may stay here after all. Just let me think.”

“Take your time, sir. I have all night.”

He blew out a frustrated breath, looking at that damn house. Why should he stay there? He didn’t have his car, not that he would leave it parked in this neighborhood. She herself had told him that the place was barely habitable. She was being stubborn, and reminding him of why his life was easier without a relationship. Then that car was back, the same one as before, and he focused on it now, watching as it slowed, braked, then moved forward, pulling into an empty spot on the street, two houses down. Probably a neighbor. But the vehicle didn’t fit, not in this street filled with Hondas, Fords and Mitsubishis. This car, a black Audi sedan with tinted windows hiding the driver, was wrong. He watched it, leaning forward now, a sense of foreboding birthing in his psyche.

* * *

I WASHED MY face, standing in the bathroom, rubbing my skin with cold water and a rough washcloth. The light was bright, harsh in my eyes, and I rushed through the process, taking out my contacts and skipping the whole dental hygiene obligation. I pulled off my dress, swaying slightly from the action, and flipped off the light, opening the door to the hall and stepping into the blackness, lukewarm air hitting my bare skin.

* * *

THE AUDI SAT for a long minute with the engine off. Brad watched it, glancing at his watch, willing the damn person inside to get on with his night so he could leave in good conscience. Fuck staying at Julia’s tonight. He needed to regain the upper hand in this relationship, something he lost the first damn time he saw her. If she was going to be stubborn and insist on staying here, he wasn’t going to fall all over himself to accommodate her senseless demands. The driver door finally opened and a tall, thin man stepped out.

Brad could instantly tell from his stance and stride that this was not a college student. The man had a developed build and a bearing built on years of confidence and experience. Brad’s foreboding grew, its arms and legs gaining strength and fortitude. The man moved, walking casually to the back of the car and removing a small bag from the trunk. Puzzled, and with a nagging sense of familiarity, Brad opened the limo’s door, leaving it ajar, and moving quietly out into the night air. The man shut the trunk and ambled toward Julia’s home.

The coincidence of the whole situation struck Brad as remarkable. There was a chance that this man was not going to her home, but that would be solved soon enough. Regardless, wherever he was headed, he needed to be stopped. What was odd was that this man was here, in this neighborhood. The man was a professional, that much was obvious. A professional didn’t hunt for sport, and a job shouldn’t bring him to this college neighborhood. Brad moved through the shadows of the street, lengths from the man. The fact that Brad was unarmed brought him considerable frustration. He watched the stride of the man, studying his gait, his eyes sharpening, a sliver of something snaking through his mind. Then the man twisted his leg, a quick popping motion that brought Brad to a sudden stop, the motion familiar. The sliver in his mind turned solid. Recognition. The realization hit him hard, and he turned his back to the man, leaning against a nearby tree and attempting to wrap his head around the fact. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell and dialed a number. Then he turned and watched the man.

The man glanced casually at the dejected mailbox and stepped over the curb, moving onto the grass and across the lawn, heading to the front door. Julia’s front door. Brad cursed, listening to the phone ring, his eyes glued to the man.

* * *

MY PHONE WAS ringing, the sound muted by my clutch, and I stood in the dark room, feeling around blindly, trying to remember where I had put the damn thing. I felt for the light switch, following the wall, when my foot bumped into my purse. I crouched, opening the metal clasp and pulling out my cell. Ha. Big surprise. Brad had cracked first. I smiled, answering the phone with a sexy drawl.

“Where are you in the house?” Brad’s voice was quick and quiet.

“My bedroom,” I whispered, matching his tone and trying to inject the proper level of husky sex into it.

“Do not turn on any lights. Do you have a gun?” His voice was too calm to ask that question, but so calm that I knew something was wrong.

“No. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know yet. Stay inside and hide. I’m going to try and take care of it from this end. Turn off the ringer and keep your phone on you.” There was a click, and he was gone. I crouched, fumbling with my phone until I had the ringer switched off. I listened, hearing nothing but the wheeze of our air conditioner. I was painfully aware of my nakedness, and had a vision of me running outside stark naked with half of the neighborhood watching. I groped around the floor until I found my discarded dress, pulled it on and crawled on my knees to my closet.

* * *

THE STREETLIGHT HAD illuminated for a quick moment the man’s features, confirming Brad’s suspicion. He knew who the man was. What he was doing outside Julia’s house was the fucking question of the century.

Thirty-Two

The man reached the dark stoop, trying the loose handle of the front door, then stepped quickly off the porch and moved around to the side of the house. Brad increased his pace, and entered the dark corridor of the side yard right when the man exited it, stepping into the light of the backyard. The man stopped short, his head tilted a brief moment, and then he turned, slowly, facing the darkness he had just left.

Brad cursed his own size. Cursed his inability to move anywhere without sounding like a herd of elephants trampling through a forest. He stopped, the element of dark on his side, and spoke, a brief staccato of words in Italian.

“Bullshit.” The man spat out the curse, his free hand sliding behind him, and pulled out a gun.

Brad stepped forward, close enough that his bulk was seen, his features partially revealed in the partial shadows.

“Wow. It really is you. Brad...De Luca, is it?” The last name was said mockingly, the man’s tone playful.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Brad’s anger was tightly controlled but seeped through in every word, and he stepped forward, advancing on the man.