Page 162 of Faking the Goal

He eases back just enough to cup my face in both hands, tilting my head until I have no choice but to meet his eyes. His palms are warm against my cold cheeks, his hold firm without hurting, and the way his thumbs rest near my temples keeps me anchored to him when my thoughts threaten to scatter again. "Tell me what happened, trouble."

"My stalker left another box," I whisper, forcing the words through a throat that feels almost swollen shut. "But this time it was inside my locker. He got into the dressing room and put it there, and inside there were these pictures of me, and they were..." My voice breaks before I can finish. I squeeze my eyes shut, but that only makes the images clearer—the stains across my face, my body, my smile—and a violent shudder runs through me.

"Hey." Kentaro's hands tighten around my face just enough to pull me back to him. "Look at me."

I open my eyes because he asks me to, and his face fills my vision until there is no room left for the locker, the box, or the possibility of someone hiding nearby. He doesn't push me to explain the rest. He only holds my gaze, his thumbs brushing slowly over my cheeks while I struggle to steady my breathing.

"Can you just get me out of here?" I ask, hating how small and desperate my voice sounds. "Please."

"Yeah. Of course."

One of his thumbs catches the tear sliding beneath my eye before he draws me closer and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. The tenderness of it sends another tremor through me, though this one has nothing to do with fear. Then he curls an arm securely around my shoulders and guides me toward his truck, keeping me tucked against his side the entire way. I know he can feel how badly I'm still shaking because his hand never stops moving over my arm, rubbing slow, comforting strokes as though he can physically smooth the terror out of me if he keeps trying long enough.

Once he gets me into the passenger seat, he leans in and pulls the seat belt across me himself, his movements careful and unhurried despite the fury I can see simmering beneath his concern. "Do you want me to go inside and get your stuff?"

I shake my head immediately. The idea of either of us going back in there makes my stomach roll all over again. "I'll text someone and ask them to bring everything out."

He nods, closes my door, and circles the front of the truck toward the driver's side while I pull out my phone. I call my boss and tell him I'm suddenly not feeling well and won't be able to work tonight. Since I hardly ever ask for time off, he doesn't give me a hard time; he only tells me to rest and come back when I'm feeling better. Missing an entire night of holiday tips hurts more than I want to admit, especially when I'd walked in already calculating how much cash I could make, but there is no chance I'd earn anything in this state. I'd spend the entire shift watching every customer instead of paying attention to their drink orders, wondering which one of them had been inside the break room and whether the man staring too long from a dark table was my stalker.

A few minutes later, the back door opens and Conrad steps outside with my purse hanging from one enormous hand. I roll down the window and wave, calling his name until he spots me and starts across the parking lot.

His expression is already concerned when he reaches the truck, but the second he notices Kentaro in the driver's seat, that concern sharpens into the alert, assessing look he probably gives every unfamiliar man trying to leave this place with one of the girls. It isn't exactly suspicion, at least not yet. More like professional scrutiny, the kind that comes from spending every shift deciding within seconds whether somebody is harmless or about to become a problem.

"You all right, Taylor?" he asks, handing me my purse while his eyes continue moving between Kentaro and me.

"Yeah. I just started feeling really sick all of a sudden." The lie sounds weak even to me, but Conrad doesn't call me on it. His attention stays fixed on Kentaro, whose posture has gone noticeably stiffer beneath the inspection. "Oh, this is Kentaro," I add, gesturing toward him. "My... uh—"

"Her boyfriend," Kentaro supplies without missing a beat.

Conrad's eyebrows rise as his gaze returns to me. "Boyfriend, huh? Didn't know you had one."

"Yeah." I give an awkward little laugh, still not used to hearing the word attached to Kentaro, much less saying it aloud myself. "It's very new."

A hint of amusement softens Conrad's expression, though it doesn't erase the protective edge in his eyes. He gives Kentaro another long once-over before looking back at me. "You trust this guy?"

Kentaro turns toward him, visibly offended. "What's that supposed to mean? Of course she trusts me."

"I'm not trying to offend you, man." Conrad lifts one hand in a calming gesture, completely unfazed by Kentaro's tone. "I'm making sure my girl Taylor is leaving with somebody she knows and trusts. That's part of my job."

Despite everything, the corner of my mouth twitches. Of course these two would choose now to have some kind of territorial safety-officer standoff over me. One of them is a professional bouncer built like a concrete wall, and the other has apparently appointed himself my full-time bodyguard after knowing how to tolerate me for less than a week. Under different circumstances, I might actually enjoy watching this play out.

"Yeah. It is your job. And she does trust me." He turns to look at me, and the anger evaporates from his face like morning dew. "Right, trouble?"

I nod. "Right."

"Alright then. Feel better, Taylor."

"Thanks, Conrad."

He steps back from the truck, gives us a casual two-fingered salute, and turns to walk back toward the club.

Kentaro puts the truck in drive, and we pull away from the curb, the club receding in the side mirror in a blur of neon and shadow. I rest my forehead against the cool window, watching streetlights glide past one after another, each one briefly illuminating the glass before disappearing into the darkness behind us.

"Do you want me to take you back to your apartment?"

I think about it for a second before slowly shaking my head.

What if there's another box waiting for me?