I didn't turn around.AndI didn't stop looting.
I could feel them now, eyeballs and cellphones burning into my back. The bag was barely halfway full when I grabbed a little blue bottle – I didn't even know what it was – and turned to face them with a show of defiance.
With my gaze locked on Stuart, I twisted off the cap and tossed it aside before bringing that tiny bottle to my lips and taking a good long gulp.
My eyes watered, and my throat burned, but I gulped again – and a third time after that, making sure the bottle was good and drained.
Whiskey.
Damn it.
Why, oh why, hadn't I gone for something I'd actually sampled?Their rum, for example, was particularly tasty, especially with tortilla chips and guacamole.
But that was beside the point.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and smiled wide for the crowd. And then, I turned and kept shoveling bottles until the tote bag was overflowing.
The bottlesweremine, after all. And hell if I'd leave them for Brad, who had this annoying habit of swiping my diet Cokes from the refrigerator in the break room.
I knew it was him, because one time, I'd spotted him, chugging away at the open fridge.
But now the chugger was me – not yet drunk, but soon on my way with the whiskey deep down my gullet. Crazy or not, I felt nearly giddy with the power of losing it – until I spottedhimthrough the crowd.
Evan Carver.
He was giving me that now-familiar look, this one with a twist. This time, it didn't only say,I know where you sleep.It also said,And I'll be coming for you soon.
And that's when I knew.
I'd be a fool to go home – at least right now.
I considered my two suitcases, already packed and waiting in the first-floor holding area. Technically, I didn'thaveto go home.
At least not yet.
But where would I go?
I needed someplace remote and somewhat off the grid – a city or town where I had no family connections to leave an easy trail.
But first – and this was a biggie – I needed to catch up with my sister, who'd been ghosting me for months.
As for Evan Carver, he could crash and burn without any help from me. It was only a matter of time, right?
But how much time?
Weeks?
Months?
I had no idea, but Ididknow I should get the hell out of Chicago. So with a jerk of my chin, I hoisted the tote bag high on my shoulder as the glass bottles clattered and clanked.
If I made it out of here without further breakage, it would be a small miracle.
But hey, miracles happened every day, so I strode toward the gawkers at the door as the crowd parted to let me through.
Ignoring the whispers, I kept on walking, making a beeline for the bank of elevators as I left the crowd behind.
Staring?
