Page 97 of Bleed

Then the little hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

It hits so suddenly that the laughter dies in my throat, that unmistakable feeling of being watched washing over me. I glance up, searching for the source of my sudden discomfort.

Across the street, a tall figure stands motionless in the narrow strip of darkness between two buildings. I suck in a breath and yank Taylor closer, my fingernails digging into her forearm.

“What?” she asks, startled.

“Do you see that?”

She follows my gaze across the street, squinting. “See what?”

“The…” I blink. The figure is gone. Only darkness remains. “Uh… never mind.”

Taylor tilts her head, studying me. “You okay?”

I force out a laugh. “I think I might be losing my damn mind.”

“You’ve always been a little crazy,” she says, patting my arm.

The headlights of a black sedan parked at a curb flick to life, and I point toward it. “This you?”

She nods.

I pull her into a quick hug before walking her over and opening the rear door.

“Text me after you talk to Elliott,” she says as she slides into the seat.

“I will.”

She fixes me with a stern look. “And actually have the conversation.”

“Yes, Mom,” I sigh, rolling my eyes before shutting the door.

The car pulls away, and I wait until it’s out of sight before walking another half block to the black SUV parked beneath a streetlight. The locks disengage as I approach, and the second I climb into the back seat and shut the door behind me, I hit the lock button again.

The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Everything alright, Miss Hamilton?”

I look back toward the gap between the buildings one last time, but there’s still nothing.

“Yeah,” I say, fingers toying with my bracelet as I settle into the seat. “Just had one too many margs.”

The driver nods. “Home?”

“Yes please.”

The SUV eases away from the curb, carrying me back toward the penthouse, but I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that someone was watching me again.

Or the lingering fear of what’ll happen when he decides to stop watching and actually do something.

Chapter

Twenty-One

By the time I’m dropped off at the elevator in the underground parking garage of Elliott’s building, the creeping unease that haunted me on the street has dulled to a faint background buzz. A different type of anxiety has wormed its way in instead– the gnawing anticipation of what awaits me upstairs.

I spent the entire ride home mentally rehearsing a conversation I’m still not convinced I’m brave enough to have, Taylor’s voice echoing through my brain on repeat.

Talk to him.