It’s just a balloon. No clowns I think to myself. Just a balloon in my room. I take a deep breath in. And out. Then another.
But then another fear settles into my gut. How did it get here?
“Kiara! KIARA!” I yell and she runs into my room with big eyes, dressed in only a bra, panties in hand. I take a deep breath of relief – she’s okay.
“What the fudge!” she wails and I point to the balloon with my eyes. She turns her head and a frown pulls between her perfect brows. Then she looks back at me.
“It’s a balloon,” she hisses and steps into her undies.
“I know that,” I say and take another deep breath. “How did it get here?”
“Oh … OH shit!” Realization hits her and she frantically scans the room. She grabs the envelope, pulls out the card, and reads it out loud.
Babe, I can’t wait to make you mine. You belong to me, always and forever.
Your one true love.
D
XOXOXO
Ug, the talking pig reverence again. What is it with guys and that word? Almost every guy uses it. I’m so glad Damion doesn’t call me that.
“Okay, this is getting crazy creepy,” I say.
SHATTER.
We both yelp and Kiara grabs my arm. The broken glass noise came from the kitchen. We are not alone.
A small rational part of my mind tells me not to panic. No one can get into this complex. It’s safe.
But it is too late for logic. Panic steals my breath, stops my heart, and I can hardly think.
Or move.
I look at Kiara and she stares back, fear in her eyes. Fear that kicks my survival instincts into drive.
I pick up the baseball bat Jackson got me, especially for occasions like this, and swing it over my shoulder.
Slowly I make my way down the corridor, one step at a time, with Kiara following, clinging to my towel. At the entrance to the kitchen I stop, close my eyes, and take one last deep breath. I peek around the corner.
The shadowy outline of a man is standing at the coffee machine. Hell, a caffeine-addicted intruder.
I move into the kitchen, bat in position, best friend at my back.
“Freeze or I’ll knock your balls in.”
The man swears and turns around, his hands cupping his junk. “Chill, it’s me,” Axel’s voice says.
“Fuck. What are you girls doing?” he asks lightly, leaning his long body against the counter. “You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack.”
We scared him. I snort and swing the bat around to point it at his face. I still have the urge to kick his butt.
“You are the one sneaking around like a frickin burglar,” I sneer through my teeth. He moves his eyes over us from top to bottom and then he splits his sides. Yeah, I’m in a towel and Kiara is in underwear … but who cares? It’s Axel.
“What are you doing here?” Kiara grunts. He crosses his arms, still slanting against the kitchen bench.
“You asked me to babysit, remember.” Kiara rolls her eyes and disappears down the hallway, mumbling something about how the world would have been so much better without men.
He takes his cup from the Nespresso and frowns at me.
“What’s really up with you?” There’s no hiding stuff from him, he’s as psychic as my brothers. I tell him about the balloon.
“Yeah, Anton at the gate brought it over, so I put it in your room,” he chucks, “You were in the shower, so I couldn’t very well go in and tell you.” This time I do the eye roll.
“It’s from D.” He takes an extra big sip of coffee.
“I thought it was from the douche.” Meaning Ren.
“Anyway, I guess I should get ready to dumb the douche then,” I tease and he lets out a sigh of relief.
“It’s about time.” He strolls out of the kitchen, stretches himself out on the sofa, and switches on the TV.
“You better get ready, Kiara planned a whole movie night.” He and Kiara don’t share the same taste in movies.
“I’m game as long as there’s popcorn. And because I can do with a nap.”
“Don’t you sleep at the station?”
“Yeah, but it was a rough shift.” I leave him to go get ready.
I stare at the balloon. Why would someone go to such extremes? I pull on the pastel pink knit ribbed mini dress and pull the zip up to the middle of my cleavage
The only reason that comes to mind is that the man must be mental. Yep, he’s as crazy as a cannibalistic rabbit with swine flu. That’s the only explanation. I sit down, pull on my thick black leggings, and fasten the laces of my black Doc Martens.
I can get that a lunatic can become an obsessed stalker … but why me? Where have we met? And even more to the point … why me?
I’m not wearing makeup today, but add pink gloss to my lips.