“It doesn’t need to be.”
Up close, he smells wrong. Stale and nervous.
“Why are you still here?”
His weak jaw tightens. “I’m leaving.”
“Good.” I step closer, just enough to make my point land. “Do that.”
He hesitates, and my patience wears thin.
I grab him by the collar of his sweatshirt and lift him off the ground.
“Listen carefully,” I say quietly. “You don’t come backto this street. You don’t look into these stores. You don’t even think about the woman inside that shop.”
His eyes widen, like he wasn’t expecting me to know.
“And if I see you anywhere near here again—” I lean in close enough that he can feel the heat of my breath. “I won’t just make you disappear. I’ll leave your body so unrecognizable, no one will be able to identify it. Do you understand?”
He nods frantically.
I lower him to his feet and pat his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. “Good. Now get the fuck out of here.”
He turns and jogs away, disappearing around the corner of the block without looking back.
I wait until I’m sure he’s gone, then I return to my car.
I’m not sure how much time passes as I continue to watch her move around the bookstore. The rhythm of it settles in. She dusts, pauses, adjusts, pauses again. Until the details blur together.
Before I even realize she’s finished, the last set of lights are flickering off and she’s stepping outside into the night.
She locks the door behind her, and when she turns around and her gaze lifts, her eyes land straight on me.
My body reacts before my brain has the decency to catch up. I duck down instinctively, despite the tint being dark enough to hide me, and my foot slams on the brake before I can stop it.
Shit.
Her attention snaps to the red glow of the taillights, and her eyes narrow.
I turn the engine over, its roar loud on the quiet street, and slam my foot against the accelerator.
The car jumps forward, and the tires screech against the asphalt as I pull away from the curb and floor-it past her.
In the rearview, I catch her standing there, watching me leave with her keys clenched in her hand and her head tilted slightly.
I planned on following her home to make sure she got home safe, but being seen changes the equation. I need her comfortable, not paranoid.
I pull up the tracker I installed on her car earlier today, the one I slipped under her rear bumper while she was opening the store, and track the blue dot as it starts moving toward her apartment.
There.
Problem solved.
I have other things to handle tonight anyway. Things that actually matter. Things that don’t revolve around an evasive brunette with a propensity for danger.
CHAPTER NINE
Echo
