The sudden silence in the hallway triggers my kindergarten-honed instincts.
Quiet equals trouble.
I veer back toward my classroom, straining to hear. Everything’s utterly still. No movement. No sound of boxes shifting. Nothing.
I shake my head.
He’s not a five-year-old. He’s not eating paste or using scissors to give the class hamster a haircut. He’s just sitting down, playing games on his phone.
Probably.
Still, a tiny chill crawls up my spine as I head toward the supply closet in the first-grade wing. I take my time. Because while I’m away from him, I can dream a little about what might happen when I return. About those strong hands. That intense gaze focused solely on me, that big, muscled body on top of mine…
That image shoots a quiver all the way down to my toes.
He’s a stranger. One of my student’s parents, sure, but a stranger. And we’re basically by ourselves. While Robbie’s across the hall, she could leave at any time. We don’t always check in with each other before heading out. And then Kolya and I would truly be alone.
From the farmers market, I know he’s capable of violence.
But he did that to protect me.
The man exudes a danger that seeps into the air around him…and lures me in.
The least I can do is leave my door open so we’re not completely isolated. That would be good etiquette, too, considering I’m at work. I stop at the entrance to my classroom and pause, listening.
Nothing.
I push the door open.
Kolya’s peering through the gap between door and frame, one hand slipped inside his jacket, his expression flat and alert.
He looks like a cop in a movie who’s ready to enter a house and hunt down a criminal.
For a second, I’m frozen, unable to process what I’m seeing. What he’s doing. What he could be reaching for in his jacket.
He regards me with laser-focused eyes. “Thought I heard something out there.”
I involuntarily rear back. “Oh. Right. Sure.”
It almost looked like he was ready to…pull a gun? But that’s ridiculous. I’m not living in a novel.
Still. Who acts like they’re gearing up for a shoot-out when they hear a noise?
Guys who break people’s arms and throats at farmers markets, that’s who.
My not-very-well-developed red flag detector is suddenly on high alert.
A shiver scurries up my arms.
I try to laugh. “Auditory hallucinations are a teacher’s occupational hazard. I swear, empty halls can make anyone jumpy.”
My forced smile doesn’t help.
He just keeps watching me, his gaze unreadable.
Those eyes belong to a predator.
For the first time, I realize I might be the prey.
