Page 33 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

The wine glass trembles in my hand, and I set it down carefully as she continues. "He wanted to know if you're seeing anyone, if you come to the club often, and if you've mentioned him." Sharon's voice drops lower. "I tried to brush him off, but he's not the kind of guy you can just brush off, you know? And then Alex showed up right after. The way they looked at each other, it was like they were communicating without saying anything."

I close my eyes, pressing my free hand against my forehead. This is worse than I thought. "What did you tell them?"

"Nothing! I mean, I told them you work from home and you keep to yourself, but that's it. I didn't give them your address or anything." She pauses.

"Sharon, I have to go. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Wait, are you sure you're⁠—"

I disconnect before she can finish, my hands shaking. Russ was asking about me.

Alex was asking about me.

They were both at the club tonight, both trying to find out more information.

This is bad. This is really, really bad.

I stand up from the couch, pacing across the small living room. Maybe I should leave town for a few days.

Maybe I should just lock all the doors and windows and pretend none of this ever happened.

The beam of headlights flash through my window. I freeze, then slowly walk toward the window.

The headlights cut through the trees at the end of my long driveway, two bright beams moving slowly through the darkness.

My breath catches in my throat.

It's probably nothing.

It's probably just someone who took a wrong turn.

But then I see the second set of headlights behind the first. And then a third. My stomach drops so fast I feel dizzy.

Three vehicles, all moving in a slow procession up my isolated driveway on a Saturday night. This isn't a coincidence.

My heart hammering, I watch as three black cars pull into my driveway one after another.

They park in a neat line, their engines cutting off simultaneously, and for a moment there's nothing but silence and the sound of my own panicked breathing.

The driver's door of the first SUV opens, and Russ steps out.

Even in the dim light from my porch, I can see the irritation on his face as he looks back at the other two vehicles.

The second door opens, and Alex emerges looking far too calm.

There's something almost amused in his expression as he leans against his vehicle.

The third door opens, and Nick steps out.

His face is completely unreadable, his green eyes scanning the cottage and the surrounding woods.

They're here. All three of them. At my cottage.

I should lock the door. I should call the police.

But before I can move, Russ is already walking toward the door. Alex follows a few steps behind, and Nick brings up the rear.

The knock on the door is firm and authoritative, and I jump despite expecting it. My hands are shaking as I cross the living room.