Cera studied Ivan’s gaze with purpose. Much to her surprise, there wasn’t even the slightest hint of disbelief to be found.
He wasn’t looking at her like she was crazy. Didn’t pretend or toss out worthless platitudes. This man had understood exactly what she meant.
And that one tiny victory meant everything.
With tears threatening to rush to the surface, Cera broke eye contact and looked away. A few cars drove by on the street to her left. Movement on her right drew her attention in that direction as a middle-aged woman looking a bit rough around the edges came out of one of the ground floor rooms and headed for the vending machine by the property’s main office.
That was it.
There was no boogie man in sight. No obvious criminal lurking in the shadows. Just a handful of unsuspecting drivers going about their day and a woman who’d once been a young girl. Presumably one with dreams and hope for a life thathadto be better than the one the poor woman had been left with.
“And you have no idea why someone would go to these lengths to harass you?”
Cera’s gaze swung back to his, the question touching a nerve she didn’t even realize existed. “Do you think I’d still be running scared if I did?”
She regretted the rudeness in her tone the moment the words left her lips. Ivan was just trying to help a stranger in need. He didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of her frustration.
“I’m sorry.” Cera’s apology broke through the awkward silence. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just…tired.” The heavy exhale seemed to reiterate that point.
Because shewastired.
Tired of being afraid. Of constantly looking over her shoulder and never knowing when or how the son of a bitch would strike next. Living this way was utterly and hopelessly exhausting.
And Cera needed it all to stop.
“It’s okay.” Worry swirled around inside Ivan’s intelligent stare. “How long has this asshole been stalking you?”
“Thirteen months, two weeks, three days.”
Not that she’d been counting or anything.
Anger on her behalf replaced the formidable man’s concern. “You’ve been dealing with this shit for over ayear?”
She nodded. “It’s never been this bad before.”
What had started as the occasional random text or phone call had moved into a direct attack on her property. Now here she was, standing next to her shitty car, talking to the most attractive man she’d ever seen, while wearing what was left of her thrift store finds.
Seriously. Could I be more pathetic?
Cera sure didn’t think so.
Over the span of the past year, she’d been forced to sell pretty much everything but her clothes and other essentials, just to have enough money for deposits, gas, and food. But that’s what happened to people who constantly break leases and bounce from one place to the next.
It was a vicious cycle she couldn’t seem to break.
She could always make more money, of course. But holding down a decent-paying job was out of the question.
Diners, gas stations, and grocery stores… Those were the highlights on her most recent resumé. And forget the dream of becoming a cop.
Hell, she couldn’t even stay in one place long enough to catch the bastard coming at her. What kind of police officer would she be if she always ran from danger, rather than facing it head-on?
On the flip side of that logic, if the chickenshit who’d been ruining her life would actually showhisface, things would be much different. Or if she at least had one solid lead—a fingerprint or other DNA sample, a physical description, license plate…somethingto put her in the right direction—then maybe…
Maybe it’s time you quit running, baby girl.
“The cops have no leads as to who your stalker could be?” Ivan’s next question brought her back to the conversation at hand.
A quick shake of Cera’s head gave the man her answer. “I still have all the notes.” She pulled a plastic gallon zip-up bag from her purse, thankful she’d taken them with her to Sin. “I was going to show these to your boss, which is why they’re still in my purse. You’re free to look them over.” She held out the bag for him to take, which he did.