What are you talking about? A week ago, you didn’t even like children.
I cut the thought off and poke a tongue at my reflection. It’s not like I’m going to solve any problems by staring into a bathroom mirror. Time to get back to the party.
I do a paper on shoe check even thought I didn’t walk into a stall, then leave the room. The moment I step through the door, my eyes lock with a man across the hallway. Dressed in a suit, just like all the others tonight. Talking on his cell.
Pretendingto talk on his mobile. His eyes flash when mine make contact. He’s waiting for me.
No. Nuh-huh.
I turn and re-enter the bathroom before my brain produces the thought to tell me what’s wrong.
I’ve seen him before, that’s what’s wrong. He walked out of the skating rink ahead of Sergio while I was cursing being left behind to lock up alone, yet again.
The same night Sophia was kidnapped.
My heart pounds, the spit in my mouth drying to a thick sludge with every accelerating beat.
You don’t know it was him. Look again.
Ha-ha. Good one, brain. You’re full of laughs tonight.
Instead, I cross to the window, staring at the foot-high pane made from reinforced glass set near the ceiling and wondering if I can turn liquid and pour myself through it.
The door behind me opens.
I turn, holding my hands in front of me as though they offer any protection in a fight. The last time I was in a confrontation, I had a weapon. Now, the sharpest thing on me are my earrings. Hardly something I can hold out to ward off an attacker. Even I would laugh at them and, circling back to my first thought, I can’t fight.
For a second, I want so much for it to be another random female walking into the bathroom that I hallucinate one. The image soon shatters, turning back into the man with the intense green eyes. The man who looks like he wants me dead.
“You’ve got the wrong room,” I say in a voice with so little volume that it’s like God put me on mute. “This is the ladies.”
Two strides and he’s on me. If I wasn’t cowering before, I am now.
“I’m not going to waste time pretending that we don’t both know who we are and where we’ve seen each other before.” His voice is stable, and his body is steel. The only one quaking is me.
“Sure.”
His eyebrow quirks at the quick response, then his eyes drag themselves down my form fitting dress, making me feel like I’m standing naked. “I had nothing to do with Sophia’s kidnapping.”
“Mm-hm.” The small hum doesn’t do much for my assertiveness but between my hammering pulse and straining vocal cords it’s the best I can muster.
I break my gaze away from his and try to gather my thoughts. They’re scattered in a thousand different directions, like marbles tumbling from a burst bag.
I shake my head, not at the idea but to clear it. The finer point of differentiation is lost on the man in front of me. He reaches out a hand, catching me by the throat. The same move Baxter has made on me, maybe a half-dozen times. But Baxter didn’t have the twist to his lips. The cold tint to his eye.
This man wants me dead.
Swallowing a whimper, I say, “I was just heading back.”
Through sheer force of will, I make my right foot inch forward. But the grip on my throat doesn’t lessen. The man doesn’t move. The oppressive weight of his menace doesn’t ease.
“What did you see?”
“I didn’t…” I lick my lips as his hand tightens. “When?”
He doesn’t answer. At least, not with his voice. The tension in the fingers wrapped around my neck give me another response. A warning not to waste his time.
I blurt out, “You were upstairs with Sergio, then you left. He followed you out. Drove away.”
