“Stop!” The word slices through the cab and it takes me a second to realize it came from me.
The cabbie swerves to a stop and Shane turns to me, heaving out a long-suffering breath.
“Come on, Cat. It’s been long enough.”
“What?” My heart is still thumping as I try to make sense of what’s happening. “Are you serious?”
“I’ve been pretty patient. I’ve done all the right things: bought you an expensive meal, sent you nice texts, came all the way out here”—he gestures out the window with a grimace—“so, you know, now—”
“What, Ioweyou?” I gape at him. This is what happened last time—the guy bought me a couple of drinks and seemed to think I “owed him.” How did I not see this coming?
“No, no. Of course not.” Shane laughs uneasily, raking a hand through his blond hair. “But, you know, at some point I have to wonder what’s going on.”
“Some point?”
He shrugs helplessly. “I’m a guy.”
I stare at him, slack-jawed. He says it like it’s some kind of get-out-of-jail-free card. You know, boys will be boys, they’re going to expect sex—so you have to give it to them.
“Fuck this.” I snatch my purse up off the seat and reach for the door handle. “I don’t put out on demand, or because some guy thinks I owe him.” And with that, I yank open the door and step out of the cab.
Shane leans across the backseat, saying something I can’t hear, but I slam the door in his face and whirl on my heel. I fully expect him to get out of the cab and follow me, to apologize and plead with me. But a second later the cab just pulls off into the night, and I stare after it in shock.
Fucking hell. I can’t even… What an asshole.
I root around in my purse with shaking hands, surprised to find that, more than anything, I feel relieved.
And that’s when I realize my phone is missing.
15
This isjustwhat I need.
I raise a hand to my forehead, blowing out a breath. All I want is to call an Uber home and climb into my bathtub, but I’m not going anywhere without my phone. Where did I last have it? I don’t remember checking it since I was at work...
Oh, right. I left it charging in the store.
With a grumble of resignation, I turn and trudge back through the East Village. I finished work at seven, leaving Hayley to lock up, and wasn’t planning on returning until tomorrow—hopefully with a huge grin after my hot date. Boy has this evening gone pear-shaped.
But as I turn down our street, I’m surprised to find the light on. It must be after ten now, why are the lights still on? Hayley wouldn’t leave them on. Unless she’s still here, doing something? But—no, she told me she was meeting friends tonight.
I creep along the sidewalk and peek in the front window, feeling my gut clench with anxiety. I can’t see anyone inside, but a bunch of my clothes have been pulled off the rack, some tossed over the front table. Hayley would never leave the store like this.
Shit. We’ve been robbed.
I tentatively push the front door open, being careful not to knock the bell. I can’t see anyone inside so they’ve probably just broken in, realized there wasn’t anything worth stealing, and taken off.
With a weary sigh, I close the door behind me. This is theworstnight. First the whole Shane fiasco and now this.
I’m just about to straighten up the front table, when a sound from the basement makes me freeze.
Oh my God. There’s still someone here.
My heart catapults into my throat and I glance at the door. I should back out of the shop and make a run for it; grab my phone off the charger and call the police. That would be the sensible thing to do.
But out of nowhere, anger surges through me: hot, forceful, visceral. I’d put good money on the fact that it’s aguydown there, looking for something to steal. Fucking men—they just take whatever they want, without stopping to think about who they might hurt in the process. Like Shane, expecting me to sleep with him tonight. I was too shocked to be angry—I just let him leave. I should have punched him in the throat.
I shake my head, practically vibrating with rage at the thought, my teeth grinding hard. Shane might have gotten away unscathed tonight, but I’ll be damned if I let this guy go without inflicting some kind of bodily harm. He’s picked the wrong store on the wrong night. Because suddenly, I’m feeling crazy.
