Page 40 of High-Priority Asset

Fear that he stood a few feet away, that she’d have to face him. That he’d never stop stalking her, terrorizing her.

Flustered. Out of all the self-defense schools between Malibu and Santa Monica he was at this one. But it couldn’t be some bizarre coincidence. When it came to Chad, it never was. He was a planner, acted with deliberate, dark purpose. Controlled every facet of his life.

Isabel’s heart hammered, her hands growing clammy. All she wanted was to crawl into a hole and disappear, but this was going too far. A violation she wouldn’t tolerate.

Fury roared through her, burning through the stupefaction that held her paralyzed. Only outrage remained. Outrage at his gall. At the narcissistic audacity it took for him to enroll at her school.

She stormed up to them, gave John a befuddled glance and glared at Chad. “What are you doing here?”

A ghost of a smile played across his lips for a second, maybe two. “For the sake of clarity, you came within fifty feet of me and initiated conversation,” Chad said.

“What’s going on?” John asked.

“This is him.” Isabel pointed at Chad. “The one I told you about. He attacked me behind the gallery and popped up at the restaurant.”

“Chad attacked you?” John asked with the skeptical tone she was used to hearing when it came to her ex.

“Yes!” Her voice drew attention from everyone in the hall.

“Attacked is a strong, ugly and untruthful word, Isabel. You called me that day. Remember?”

“I did, but—”

“You missed me, wanted to rekindle things and asked me to come to the gallery.”

He was twisting the truth, spinning it into vicious lies. The same way he’d done in court, bolstering his position while tearing hers down.

Painful pressure welled in her chest, squeezing her heart. “That’s not true.” Her voice trembled.

To stop her hand from shaking she clenched her fingers around the strap of her gym bag.

Chad stood taller with a smug expression, his presence taking up the space, sucking up the oxygen. “You can’t defame my character like this. It’s not fair.”

Fair? “I know it was you,” Isabel said. Her pulse raced. Her breath was tight in her lungs. “The bees in my car. You wanted to hurt me. You wanted to scare me. You’re a sick piece of work.”

“What are you talking about?” Chad asked. “Bees?” His features twisted in an expression of utter confusion that looked so real she half believed him. “Do you hear yourself? I think you need to talk to someone about your delusions. If this is another ploy to get attention, you should see a professional.” He sounded calm, rational, looked like the sane one.

Anger bled from her as anxiety seeped through, sending her head spinning. “You put bees in my car, knowing I’m deathly allergic. Admit it!”

“Isabel, I love you.” He took a step closer.

A terrible rush of energy flooded her system with no outlet, no conduit. It was like her body was in full-blown flight-or-fight mode, but she was frozen, stuck.

“Whether or not we’re together, I only want what’s best for you,” Chad said, his voice so sympathetic he should’ve been struck by lightning. “Why would I put bees in your car? How? Unless you have proof, you can’t go around tarnishing my reputation with such outlandish claims.”

Proof. Dutch had asked a friend in the police department to have her car dusted for prints. Only hers and Dutch’s were found, along with a jewelry box from Tiffany’s that oddly enough had no prints on it at all.

“Stay away from me, do you hear me?” Everyone stared at Isabel like she was a raving crackpot.

Even John. But at least he moved up beside her in a physical show of support. “Chad, your membership is canceled, effective immediately.”

“Hold on a minute.” Chad raised his palms as though he were the victim. “You can’t do that.”

“I just did. We’ll send you a refund in the mail. Abraham.” John turned to the big, buff instructor. “Escort Mr. Ellis out and let everyone at the front desk know that he’s no longer to be given access to the premises.”

Abraham gestured for Chad to start walking.

“If you were stung by a bee, I’m glad you’re all right,” Chad said, his tone deceptively sweet—almost innocent. He had unbelievable gall. “You’re looking good, Isabel. Call me if you ever need anything. I’m here for you.”