Page 120 of Safe Word

And Vinnie? It didn’t seem like him either. Sure, he was loud and a little over the top, but he wasn’t malicious.

That left the two hosts; the men who had closed in on me when I walked into the club. But something didn’t add up. They had no time to get to my drink – they hovered near the entrance without a break.

A chill ran through me as another, darker possibility crept into my mind. Could Travis really be here?

My ex’s name hooked to my temples. He’d always been calculated, a shadow with patience.

I remembered the first time he showed up at my lecture displaying the exact same patience as ever.

The third time, I caught him staring from across the street.

I once mistook obsession for romance.

At the time, I was young and stupid. He’d told me he’d followed me for a year – and something in me had been thrilled by it. But now…

The idea that he could be here, in the same city, lurking in the background and pulling the strings – it settled into my bones like ice.

I remembered the sweet, metallic taste of opiates he fed me while the world bent sideways, and he whispered, ‘You made me do this.’

He’d done it before. Drugged me to get his way, to take control when I didn’t comply. And now he was trying to manipulate my life from the shadows of the past.

I gripped the edge of the counter, the knot of dread in my chest tightening. This wasn’t just paranoia. Travis was the kind of man who thrived on power, and he hated losing. Last I’d heard, he was released from prison. And if he was behind this—

A loud knock splintered the silence like a gunshot.

I flinched, every nerve in my body going taut – the mug slipped from my hand and exploded across the tiles.

Air locked between my teeth. My pulse thundered.

It felt as if I were already running, even though my feet hadn’t moved.

I just stared at the door like it might lurch open on its own.

Another knock. Suppler this time.

I backed away from the counter, my socks sliding around the shards of mocha-covered ceramic, a hand flying to my chest as if it might keep my heart inside. Every inch of my skin screamed.

Grabbing my gun from the purse, I gripped it tight in one hand and pressed the other to my throat, as if I could coax the air through it with my fingers alone. My lungs felt raw, scraped thin by panic.

On tip-toes, I leaned towards the peephole—

—held my breath—

—and exhaled in a shaky rush when a blond ponytail swung out of view and a single ocean-blue eye filled the tiny lens.

My pulse skittered.

Scrambling, I shoved the gun into a shoebox on the built-in shelf beside the door, fingers fumbling over the lid as though they no longer belonged to me.

I unlocked the door.

‘Hey, Vinnie.’ His name came out on an exhale.

His smile spread easily, lighting up the hallway and, for a moment, slowing the gallop of my heart.

‘Hey, sweetheart,’ he murmured, though the warmth faltered when his gaze searched mine a beat too long. ‘All good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

I let out another long, trembling puff of air and pulled the door wider to let him in.