His to Steal

Ch. 6: Paranoid

I don't want to mess with my freedom over a hunch.

"Nothing's wrong, I swear. I just wanted to hurry because my TBR is a mile long and this bookstore is massive. I only have so many minutes to shop, right?" I say, trying to make my voice chipper. I hope not overly chipper.

Dom stares at me with narrowed eyes, but eventually nods. "Yep. Forty-five minutes. Go get as many books as you want. My treat, okay?"

"You don't have to—"

"I want to. Go on, now," she says, scooting me toward the escalator. "Before I change my mind and come with you."

Now I kind of want her to. I think I've met my limit of being alone today.

But I don't say anything. I don't want to tell her that I thought I heard someone following me outside. And I don't want to fuck up what I am pretty sure is my last impromptu trip out of the house for a while.

"I'm going, I'm going. I'll meet you back down here in non-fiction when I'm done." I pretend to gag; our reading tastes are very different. I love spicy romance with deceiving cartoon covers and dark romances, whereas Dom is into biographies and horror.

Dominique waves me off and looks at her watch. "Okay. keep your phone on you."

I take off toward the escalator to go to the third floor. The higher I climb, the faster my heart beats. And it isn't from excitement.

Because there it is again. That feeling. I cut my gaze to the left and then the right, and when I see no one, I spin around to see a man with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes riding the escalator a few steps below.

My eyes widen and I turn back around, trying to call as little attention to myself as possible.

Who the fuck is that? Is that who was following me outside? Or are they just someone trying to buy a fucking book and I'm as paranoid as Jason?

I get off the escalator and chance a glance over my shoulder after I've walked toward the bookshelves. Sure enough, the man is a few feet behind me, following in my footsteps.

Shit, he's definitely following me.

I make my way to the dark romance section, which happens to be right in front of the window facing the street. If I'm right about this, he won't touch me there. Too big a chance of being seen. On the way over, I pull my phone out and text Dom.

Sutton: I think someone is following me. I need you to come to the third floor, please...romance section in front of the window facing our building.

Swallowing hard, my eyes dart left and right, but I don't see the man anymore. My eyebrows dip and I glance back down at my phone when I feel it vibrate in my hand.

Dominique: Jesus Christ, Sutton. Move from between the stacks but stay in front of the window. I'm coming.

Sutton: Okay. I don't see him now.

She doesn't answer, because in about fifteen seconds, she's there. Her hand is on her waistband, and I know she's ready to protect me at any cost. She places her index finger over her lips and beckons for me to come to her. I do, and she grabs my hand.

"Do you see him?" she whispers, and I shake my head.

"I don't. But there's a lot of shelves up here. He could be anywhere."

"Stay right next to me," she commands as we start walking down the main aisle, looking between every set of bookshelves. The more we look, though, the clearer it becomes that the only people up here are me, Dominique, an old lady in the historical romance section, and three employees.