I took a healthy step back. Balance left me. I swayed hard, and the floor rose to meet my ass.
Hoots and hollers jeered around us. Birds, jackals, and maniacs, all of them!
The circus master crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at me.
It had to be the extreme pressure of every choice I made in the last few months. Years, probably. But I felt the armor in my chest crack. I didn’t know who this man was, or what his problem with me could possibly be, but I lost it.
Soaking wet, flushed with embarrassment, and feeling the niggling edge of something I didn’t want to admit to, I was defeated. Done. It was time to let myself fall into oblivion. Embrace the void where Amanda Loring didn’t exist.
I struggled to my feet, gave the crowd a small bow, and walked away from the entertainment. I felt his gaze on me the whole way to the bar.
I slammed my card on the counter. “Tequila. Make it a double.”
My phone buzzed, and I knew without looking who it was. After I threw back the shot and croaked for another, I felt bold enough to peek.
Unknown: You should stop.
I ground my molars. If he thought he could tell me what to do, he had another think coming. My fingers stabbed the phone screen.
Me: Joke’s on you. Everyone saw you touch me. When the cops catch you, they’ll have eyewitness proof that you’re just some sick bastard getting his jollies off by tormenting me in public.
The small glass of clear liquid was pushed in front of me. I snatched it, licked the salt, and threw it back.
I choked.
There was no burn. No fire. Nosalvation.
“What the hell was that?” I barked at the bartender.
He gave me a calm, professional look. “You’ve been cut off.”
Oh, the circus master thought he was so clever. Giving his boys orders to keep me from my booze. Tricking me with a shot of water.
My phone vibrated, and I glared at the message.
Unknown: Let them watch.
A new message popped up on the screen.
Unknown: They can want you.
Unknown: I’ll be the one to take you.
Unbelievable. Un-freaking-believable!
I marched to the nearest table, plastered on a winning smile that was probably half deranged, and grabbed a cocktail from the guy who smiled back. Keeping my eyes locked with his, I downed the contents.
The rich boys cheered as I slammed it on the table.
“Want mine?” the redhead offered.
I held up my hand. “Thanks, but I’ve been cut off. Time to ditch this joint.”
Unable to shake the feeling at the back of my neck, I made my way to the exit. The streak of defiance felt good. It made up for the fact that my dress was soaked and my pride nonexistent.
Tomorrow would be a fresh day, and I would nurse whatever hangover I had while I gathered the threads of my life and brought order to the chaos. I was in control. Me.
That was the worst part of this charade, I realized as I stood on the curb, waiting for the rideshare, shivering despite the warm evening. The monster stalking me challenged me for control. He tempted me with the idea of giving it up. And that scared me more than the potential that I was losing my mind…or that there was actually someone haunting me from the shadows.
