Gracie was out there, somewhere, and he couldn’t stop the barrage of questions rolling through his mind.
What had happened to her? Was she okay? Had she been hurt? Did whoever broke into her apartment decide to ki—
“Nope.” Nate spoke the word aloud, refusing to let his mind go there.
He was a man of facts and data, and nothing they’d found so far indicated Gracie had been harmed in any way. That was what he chose to focus on. Otherwise, the what-ifs were going to drive him fucking batshit.
His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since early that morning. Sadly, minus a few beers, his refrigerator was essentially bare.
Glancing at the clock, he decided to run down to the corner to Chu’s for some takeout.
Knowing his phone was set up to alert him of any new data found in the programs he had running, Nate grabbed his black leather jacket and keys.
The night air was unusually cool for this time of year, plus, the jacket would hide his gun.
While waiting in the restaurant for his order, Nate couldn’t help but think of that night here with Gracie. He smiled as he remembered the way she’d blushed when he’d called her out on texting Sarah about going to his place.
He then thought about the way she’d looked in his shirt. The damn thing nearly fell to her knees, but she somehow still managed to make it look sexy.
The memory of that moment at her car came next, those fleeting seconds when he’d come so close to kissing her. Regret filled him to the core as he wondered if he’d ever get that chance again.
He was still mentally beating himself up for not going for it when someone called out his name.
After paying the man at the register, Nate grabbed the white, plastic sack and headed for the door. It wasn’t until then that he realized it had begun to rain. From the looks of things, it wasn’t stopping anytime soon.
“Fanfuckingtastic.”
Doing his best to pull his jacket collar up to cover his neck, Nate bit the bullet and went outside. Raindrops poured down on him in sheets as he made his way toward the alley.
Some of the cold drops ran down into the neckline of his shirt, making Nate curse Mother Nature as he picked up his pace.
Half way to his apartment, the hairs on the back of Nate’s neck began to stand on end. And it wasn’t from the cold, wet weather.
This was something different. A feeling he got when he knew someone was following him.
Nate instantly went on full-alert. Not wanting to spook whoever it was for fear they’d freak out and do God knows what, he continued on as if he were none the wiser.
The sound of footsteps made its way past the pouring rain, their pattern becoming a little louder as the person’s pace increased.
Waiting for the perfect moment, Nate let them get closer and closer. Then, he made his move.
In one, fluid motion, Nate dropped the bag containing the food, spun around on the ball of his feet, and reached out for the person wishing him harm.
Growling, he shoved his assailant back into his apartment building’s brick wall so hard, he knocked the wind out of the piece of shit.
As he did this, Nate inadvertently bumped into some bulging bags of trash that had been stacked near one of two dumpsters placed there. Keeping a strong grip on the guy’s shirt, he ignored the stench of rotting garbage and kicked the bag that had toppled into his path out of the way.
Whoever this guy was, he was of a smaller build. Wearing a pair of baggy jeans and an oversized, grey hoodie, his face was obscured by the hood.
Nate couldn’t give a shit what the guy looked like. He just wanted to go home, eat his food—which had probably spilled out of the container and into the bag when he dropped it—and go to bed.
Knowing this was most likely just some punk-ass kid trying to make a quick buck by robbing him, he decided to try and scare the kid into never pulling a stunt like this again.
Stepping in closer, Nate shouted above the rain. “Listen, asswipe. I’ve had a long fucking week, and I amnotin the mood to deal with this shit. So take your skinny ass back home to your mamma. Or, better yet, go find a real fucking job and quit trying to steal from innocent people.”
When the kid shook his head beneath the hood, Nate decided he needed to take things a step further.
Pulling his gun from his waistband, he shoved it against the kid’s chest. Hard.
