Pelt flinched.
My answering smirk wasn’t very nice. “Yeah, I know you followed me to the club. Not to mention sitting outside my friend’s house in your car for several hours. What would a judge say when I show them the video evidence?”
Pelt struggled to keep her eyes on mine.
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, we have you on camera in both the club and outside their house. Still think I don’t have a case?”
I wasn’t sure about either of those statements, but she didn’t need to know that. All she needed was to believe that I was serious.
“I don’t know why you’re being so hostile. It’s not like I woke you up,” Pelt argued, pointing at my clothes.
"I fell asleep on the couch," I lied through my teeth.
"With your shoes on?"
"I was very tired."
She made a sound that didn't hide her skepticism.
"I also don't have to explain myself to you."
It was one thing for me to lie. It was another for her to question me on it. She was the one at my door, intruding on my early morning hours.
"If that's all." I started to close the door in her face, hoping she'd take the hint and leave.
Her open palm slapped against it. "It's not."
I kept pressure up for another moment, tempted to force the issue. For a human, she was incredibly stubborn. Was this what it was like for Liam when he had to deal with me?
"Get your hand off my door," I ordered, pulling the tone of voice I'd heard Thomas use on more than one unpleasant occasion. A tone that was haughty, cultured, and refined. It had the effect of making the recipient feel small and insignificant.
Pelt didn’t budge, her lips flattening into a mutinous line. "Funny thing, I went back to the station last night. No one remembers you. Not picking you up from the warehouse or why they released you when you were clearly trespassing. It’s like it never even happened."
Well, shit.
She reallywasstalking me.
Connor approached, hovering outside her line of sight. His gaze remained locked on my face, the threat of his presence enough to tell me I was running out of leeway. Something was going to need to be done about Pelt. Soon.
“Then there’s Thomas Bennet and Liam Quinn,” Pelt said, her eyes never leaving mine.
All thought of hurrying this along disappeared as I stopped trying to shut the door in her face.
“As far as I can tell, neither of them exists. No birthdates, no paper trail of their lives to this point. Yet they own numerous properties around the city.” Small dimples appeared on Pelt’s cheeks seeming to say 'gotcha'. “Despite that, no one seems to remember having met either one.”
Connor stepped into view, wiping that look off her face.
I put a hand on his chest, stopping him. We needed to know what else she knew and whether she'd told anybody or written it down.
"Are you following me?" I asked calmly.
For her to know those names, it meant she'd done her research.
I didn't like that. I didn't like it at all.
Unaware her life hung in the balance, Pelt said, "I'll take that as confirmation of your relationship, then."
There was a sense of disconnection as I studied her, my thoughts and feelings far away.
