Cera’s vision dropped to a blouse laying haphazardly off the edge of the mattress. Her lids narrowed, and she moved in closer. Reaching out, she picked up the soft, almost sheer material to find it hadn’t simply been tossed aside with total disregard.
It had been shredded.
She dropped that blouse and studied the one lying next to it. Her chest tightened when she found it had been given the same treatment.
It took all but a few seconds to realize whoever had made this mess hadn’t simply trashed the place. They’d destroyed nearly everything she owned. Clothes, shoes, even the small bit of food in the room’s mini fridge…
Her stalker had destroyed it all.
Without thinking, Cera bent over to start picking up the mess, but stopped herself short. What was she doing? This room was now a crime scene, and her belongings were evidence. She shouldn’t have touchedanything.
And she needed to call the cops.
Pulling her phone from her hoodie’s pocket, she started to dial, but froze with her thumb still hovering over the nine.
Why bother calling nine-one-one? It’s not like this guy’s dumb enough to leave his prints on anything. He’s already proven that. Which means the cops still won’t have shit to go on.
It was true, but maybe someone saw something this time. Maybe there was finally a witness who could finally give the police a description of the son of a bitch. Or maybe—
Or maybe you should just get the hell out of there before your stalker comes back!
That last thought was all it took for Cera to snap herself out of the shocked, almost entranced state of mind and push herself back into survival mode. Because that’s what she did, right?
She survived.
With her purse over her shoulder and her keys still in her hand, she went into the bathroom and stuffed the handful of items that had been spared into her large, multicolored boho-style crossover.
Brush, comb, face cleanser and foundation…
After grabbing what wasn’t broken or floating in the toilet—like her toothbrush—she spun on her heels and went to the nightstand. Not allowing herself time to really think about the precious, smiling faces in the picture, she picked up the frame and carefully worked it into her bag. Broken glass, and all.
With nothing left worth taking, she turned and rushed from the room. She’d told the guy at the club she didn’t have two weeks, and she’d been right.
Maybe one of these days, someone will actually believe me.
Refusing to hold her breath on that ever happening, Cera walk-jogged across the concrete pathway leading to the top of the stairs. Pissed and scared, she went a little too fast and missed a step halfway down.
Her arms flew to her sides, her hands gripping the rusty white railing at the last second. The near-fall forced her to stop and regain her footing before continuing the rest of the way.
Sharp tingles raced to the tips of her fingers and toes, the rush of adrenaline from having come close to tumbling the rest of the way down appearing suddenly. With her head on a constant swivel, Cera gave up trying to be discrete.
She ran in a fast, straight line across the cracked asphalt to where her car was parked.
The fob that came with the vehicle had long-ago quit working, she was forced to go old-school and actuallyinsertthe key into the door. Giving her immediate surroundings another glance, Cera brought the metal tip of the key to the door lock cylinder. But her shaking hand lost its hold, and the keys fell from her head and onto the ground.
Son of a…
Cera muttered a curse as she bent over to pick them up. Her purse flung forward, the abrupt change in weight distribution nearly throwing her off balance. With a huff, she grabbed her keys, sliding her purse back behind her hip as she stood.
The second attempt to unlock her car door went much more smoothly. After a quick turn of her wrist, Cera disengaged the lock with ease. She lifted her hand, but a last-minute hesitation left her just shy of grabbing the handle.
Was leaving really the best option? Would starting over in another city do anything but delay the inevitable?
Probably not, but what other choice do you have?
Dread seeped into her core simply from the thought of going on the run again. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t see a better way.
Decision made, Cera curled her fingers around the handle and pulled. But just as the door started to open, a strong, male hand appeared from over her shoulder to keep it shut.