Annie
Nightfall darkened the sky hours ago, but the light of the moon illuminates my path like a runway. I weave through the trees as fast as I can, dodging branches and the long, stringy cobwebs dangling from them. Twigs snap beneath my wet shoes like landmines, broadcasting my location with every step.
I’ve put over a hundred miles of distance between me and my apartment, but that doesn’t stop me from looking over my shoulder every other second to make sure they weren’t closing in behind me.
My toe hits something hard, and I stumble, my hands slipping in the mud in a failed attempt to brace my fall. My forehead bounces off a rotting stump, and I cry out at the sharp ache.
I touch the skin above my eye and pull back my dirty hands to see red, but I don’t have time to deal with the bloody cut. I don’t have time for anything but running, so once again, I force myself to get back on my feet andgo.
What feels like an eternity later, I finally hear the commotion of the town in the distance. I want to weep with relief, but until he’s close enough to touch, there’s nothing to be relieved about.
I clear the trees to an empty park and arrive in downtown Matchbook. There are buildings and a restaurant across the street, signs for the post office and police station, and a blinking stoplight. I feel safe enough to slow my pace while I limp through the playground on my throbbing ankle.
My lungs are tight, and my heart is pounding. It’s drizzling, cold, and windy. Shivering, I reach for the door and push the handle, knowing the man inside is the only one who can help me—he’s the only one who can save me…again.
That’swhyI’mhere.
Annie
Five years earlier…
The stern and rumbly male voices in the other room make it impossible to deny that what’s happening isn’t just a bad dream.
I tip my head back so I can chase the tears away, blinking as if an optometrist is tickling my eye with that pressure-testing tool. I inhale slowly and swallow quickly, shoving the fear and sadness away with practiced ease.
My ability to lock up painful emotions is something I perfected when I was five years old. I never researched it, but always assumed it was a normal reaction to discovering you were the reason your mom died. Logically, I knew it wasn’t my fault she had complications from the c-section, but logic is meaningless in loss.
For my entire childhood, I did everything I could to make it up to my father. I never had problems at school, I fended for myself, and I pretended to be okay when I was anything but. That altruism has remained constant, even now, even though I’m scared out of my mind.
The deep voices get louder, and I tiptoe to my door and crack it open to hear my dad saying, “… you want, it’s my decision, Sterling. She doesn’t need to see them.”
“You hired us, Phil, and I’m telling you if she looks at them, it could help us with details so we can find the son of a bitch who’sbeen taking pictures of her for the past six weeks.” Sterling is an old friend of my dad’s who has a security company.
A security company that has a safe house to protect people who have been stalked…like me.
“The governor thought I’d settle if those pictures of Annie landed on my desk, but I didn’t, and I won’t. I’m not concerned about who took them because I know why they did. I’m concerned that he’ll do something more drastic during the trial, so I want her where nobody can get to her.” Dad pauses, and I hear him blow out a breath. “Just keep her safe while I put his piece of shit son behind bars.”
I hate my father being so upset. His blood pressure’s already skyrocketed, and at his age I know it’s affecting his health in ways he’ll never admit. Then again, I won’t admit to him how much it was affecting me, either, and it’s affecting me…a lot.
I haven’t slept, I can’t eat, and I’m so paranoid I see shadows that don’t exist. I’ve been in a constant state of panic, and it’s only gotten worse knowing I’m going to be somewhere safe and my father isn’t. But it’s what’s best for him, so I’ll do it with a smile on my face.
I need to finish packing, and the arguing is distracting, so I push the door shut. Only, it doesn’t budge because a man’s fingers wrap around the edge and prohibit any movement. My fight instincts are nonexistent, but my flight instincts were already on high alert. I don’t have power over my body as I jump back so fast that I fall on my butt. I still don’t when I lurch backward like I’m possessed. My skull meets the bed frame, and I wince, finally getting my senses back as I rub the top of my head.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Ben.” I tilt my neck back and do a head-to-toe scan of the tall, muscular guy before me. Slim hips, sculpted arms, broad shoulders, and a jawline that isn’t just sharp, it’s chiseled. He holds out his hands.“Let me help you up.” And even though I can get up on my own, I extend my hand without saying a word.
He effortlessly pulls me to my feet and waits, making sure I’m solid before letting me go to give me space. His intense focus never leaves me, and the rapid beating of my heart, which I’ve become familiar with, wanes, its thuds slowing like a train rolling to a stop.
Ben tilts his head, his hazel eyes narrow in concern, and his voice is soft. “Are you all right?”
“Uh…yeah. Sorry.” I clear my throat and push my glasses up my nose. “Just kind of jumpy lately.”
“I bet.” Those two syllables have a harshness that surprises me.
“I’m Annie.”
“Knew that,” he says with a small grin. “I also know you heard our fathers arguing. What Idon’tknow is how you feel about what they’re saying.”
“What do you mean?”
