“Of course it matters. Did you tell Eastern?”
Hamish shook his head before pushing his glasses up his nose. “Can I ask you s-something?”
“Shoot.”
“What does it feel like?”
Lock frowned. “What does what feel like?”
“B-being you.”
Okay, now Lock was really fucking lost. “I’ve really got nothing to compare it to. Why are you asking?”
“People don’t mess with you b-because you’re strong and tough. W-women trust you to keep them safe. I’m not like that.”
Lock stepped forward. “Hamish. What’s going on?”
“I…” He shook his head. “Nothing. Life’s just kicking my ass at the m-moment. Send me the bill for the window, okay?” He turned and headed toward his front door, but before he made it inside, Lock called out to him.
“Hamish.” He looked at Lock over his shoulder. “We all have our rough patches. You’re doing good.”
His brows flickered, and he looked like he wanted to say something. But he just dipped his chin. “Thanks.” Then he stepped inside.
Poor guy. It seemed like everyone was having a tough time right now.
Lock blew out a breath as he packed up his tools. He’d just climbed into the truck when he cursed at the time.
Shit. He was late to pick Callie up and take her home. Again. And he still needed to drop by Mrs. Agar’s place and fix her lock. It would only take him twenty minutes, but he wanted to get to Callie. At least she wasn’t alone. She’d texted that her dad was staying for pizza after the last Pilates session.
He drove faster than he should have and ended up fixing Mrs. Agar’s lock in half the time.
When he reached the studio, he parked on the opposite side of the road. He was about to climb out of his truck when something in the rearview mirror caught his attention. Or, less something as someone.
Was that…was that a fucking person standing at the mouth of the alley? Were they watching the studio? There were shadows over the person’s face, so Lock couldn’t make out features, but he was tall. Definitely a man.
The veins in Lock’s forearms pulsed. He shot one glance at the studio window. The lights were on, but he couldn’t see anyone inside. Her father’s Chevy was out front though. They were likely in the back room.
Instead of heading toward the studio, he walked the sidewalk toward the alley, keeping his head down and hands in his pockets. He tried to keep his body language casual so it wasn’t obvious what he was doing. But if the guy was watching Callie, he’d recognize Lock—and he’d probably run.
Like he’d read Lock’s mind, the man suddenly turned and disappeared into the alley.
Fuck.
Lock ran, his feet pounding against the concrete and following the guy into the alley. The asshole was fast. Just as fast as Lock.
Dammit, he wasn’t closing the distance.
The closed gate at the end of the alley would hopefully slow him down. It was high and would be hard to climb.
The guy reached it—and Lock watched as he climbed and jumped over to the other side in one fluid move, like he’d done it a thousand times before.
Who the fuckwasthis guy?
The guy exited the alley, turning right.
Lock sped up and jumped the gate. He followed him onto the street…only to stop.
He was gone. Where? There were a few cars on the road, some parked, some moving. He could be in or hiding behind any of them. There were also a couple of businesses still open.
