Sutton
I bounce on my tiptoes as we stand outside Barnes and Noble. "Yeah, yeah, keep my phone on me and all that stuff. Can we go in now?"
Dominique shakes her head, looping her arm in mine and taking me inside. "You're really excited for a little trip to the bookstore."
"It's sad, isn't it?"
"A little. But it's cute."
"We need to take a photo to mark the occasion. We just won't post—" I freeze as I slide my hand in my back pocket and find it empty. "Shit." I pat all my pockets and stare at the ceiling when I realize what I've done. "I left my phone on that park bench!"
"Ooh, hell," Dominique says, turning back toward the door. "Hopefully no one noticed. Let's go grab it."
"I can go by myself."
"No way. Absolutely not," she says stubbornly, shaking her head.
"Come on. I'm nineteen years old! If I can't even run across the street alone, I'm helpless. It's the middle of the day." I know I'm pushing the limits, and I know I was just in danger the other night, but I can't help myself.
I'm tired of feeling so fucking pathetic all the time.
Dominique's nostrils flare and she crosses her arms over her chest. "Fine. But I am standing right outside the door where I can see you, and don't even bother arguing."
It's better than nothing. "Fine. I'll be right back."
Stepping out the door, I cross the street at the crosswalk. There's a spring in my step as I blend in with the other pedestrians, my hair blowing around my shoulders. I feel almost like a college student running errands on my way to class. It's a good feeling.
The park is relatively quiet now. The only people around the spot we were sitting are the vendors, and it's a good thing because I can see my phone on the park bench right where I left it.
As I bend over to get it, I hear a twig crack behind me, and it freaks me out. I get the feeling that the person stopped as soon as I did. It's the same feeling I got in the club when I just knew that guy was staring at me.
I swallow hard, unlocking my phone, ready to dial for help if I need to, and walk back toward the bookstore. I'm almost out of the park when I chance another glance behind me. I hold my breath and look around.
Nothing.
No movement at all.
Stop it, Sutton. You're feeding into your dad and Jason's paranoia. There is no one following you.
But I know.
I know when someone is watching me. It's a trait you learn quick as a mafia princess.
It's then that I take off running back to the safety of the bookstore and Dominique. I don't slow down until right before the crosswalk, but it's too late. She's seen me.
When I reach her, she places a hand on my shoulder and meets my gaze. "You all right, babe? Did something happen?"
"No, why would you think that?" I pant, attempting a nonchalant attitude.
Dom cocks her head to the side. "Because in the years that we've been friends, I have never, not once, seen you run. What happened?"
"Very funny." I pause, unsure if I should tell her. I mean, I should, right? She'd want to know. She needs to know.
But what's to know? I think someone might have been following me? Maybe? Or they might have just been in the park walking behind me. In which case, they were doing nothing wrong.
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.
No man with a baseball cap.
"I guess I was just imagining things," I say, plopping down in a chair in one of the reading areas near the escalators and trying to calm my racing pulse.
Dominique sits in front of me and props her elbows on her knees, leaning forward to focus on my face. "I don't think you were imagining anything. What did he look like?"
"I couldn't really see his face because of the baseball cap. But I'd say he was over six feet tall, pretty broad shouldered, white. Judging by the way he walked, maybe twenties."
Dominique's shoulders visibly relax, and she nods. "All right. Well, he seems to be gone now. But I think that's enough for today."
For the first time, I couldn't agree more.
***
When we get back to my penthouse building, Dominique opens the door for me, and we head quickly toward the elevator. Inside the security of the lobby, I feel my shoulders finally relax, sucking in a deep breath.
I didn't realize the danger from the other night had been weighing on me quite this much, but I shudder thinking about that leering man from the club. About whether he's been trying to return to finish the job.
"Wait, Ms. Gonzales?" the security guard calls out, and we both turn back toward him.
"Yes sir?"
"Could I have a word with you?"
Dominique glances at me and I nod, holding up both palms. "Go ahead, I'm fine right here. I'll wait."
"I'll be right back," she promises as I sink down into a chair across from the elevators. "Don't leave without me, okay?"
I shoot her a glare that practically screams duh as I pull out my phone, trying to settle down.
The security guard, who I am 99% sure is named Thomas, speaks to Dom in hushed tones, and I get the feeling that they aren't discussing last night's episode of America's Got Talent.
I can't catch much of the conversation, so I get up and sneak toward them, listening to the tail end of Thomas's sentence.
"...he looked so familiar, though. Like I'd seen him a thousand times but just couldn't put my finger on where. I think it was the hat that was throwing me off. And he had on dark aviator sunglasses. But it was weird. He kept—"
He stops abruptly when he notices me standing behind Dom. She turns around and glares at me, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm sorry, Sutton Marie. Did Thomas ask if he could have a word with you?"
The sass in her voice is off the charts and I take a couple steps back and tuck my lips between my teeth. "Sorry. I'll—see myself back to my seat now."
"That's a good idea," she says, turning back to Thomas with a final narrowed glance in my direction.
Shit, something's up.
It isn't until we're back upstairs and in my room that Dominique says anything else to me. I'm sitting on my bed, kicking off my Vans when she speaks.
"You know I'll tell you what's going on as soon as it it's safe...if there even is anything to worry about."
"I know, I know. I was just being nosy. You seemed anxious and I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to know what y'all were talking about, and then I still didn't get it. So I had to face your wrath with no reward."
She chuckles, but there's no humor in it. "Sorry for snapping at you. It's just that this time, there may actually be something to worry about."
Anxiety skitters up my spine as I turn to face her on the bed, pulling my legs underneath my butt. "What is it?"
"Thomas said there was a guy lurking outside the building today, trying to get in. He tried every way he could, even asked people outside to let him in. When no one did, he got agitated, and Thomas had to ask him to leave."
My eyebrows furrow. "Okay...but why did Thomas need to tell you about that?"
The look Dom gives me sends my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach. "When Thomas went outside to tell him to leave, he said there was only one thing he wanted to know: if Sutton Banks still lived here."
My blood chills in my veins, sending an involuntary shiver through my body. "What? Wh—why? What does that even mean?"
Dom shrugs, shaking her head. "I have no idea. But it's fucking weird."
"You can say that again. Still lives here. Meaning...he already knew I did? Who would..."
But I already know.
It fits my theory that he was at the club the other night...that he could be the one who protected me during the ambush.
But why? Why would he come to my building? After everything he put me through?
"What?" Dom asks. "What are you thinking about?"
"I—"
Dom wasn't around when my heart was thrown into the dirt, kicked between my father and my best friend, stomped on, decimated...she didn't see the damage he did to me.
Not my father.
Nicolai.