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“Okay, we can go,” I nodded.

“Pack a bag, baby. Make it fast. I’ve got something in mind.”

He was scaring me. He touched my cheek.

“Joy, I’ll make this right.”

I trapped his hand against my face. “I know you will.” I looked around at the chaos my stalker had created. County sheriff cars, neighbors, the wreckage of our normal life scattered like debris from an explosion.

This wasn't just harassment anymore. This was psychological warfare.

And I was starting to understand that my stalker wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted.

Me.

Alone.

Isolated from everyone who loved me.

The thought should have terrified me.

Instead, it pissed me the hell off!

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Four-thirty in the morning came too damn early, especially when my head had hit the pillow at one-thirty. But my body was done pretending to sleep. I'd been lying there for the past two hours, staring at the ceiling of the LeeHy Motel, replaying last night's nightmare on an endless loop.

The sound of splintering wood. Tactical teams flooding our bedroom. Joy's terrified face in the strobing red and blue lights.

The double bed barely contained my six-foot-four frame. My feet hung off the end, and every time I shifted, the springs creaked loud enough to wake half the floor. Joy was curled against my side, her blonde hair spilled across my chest, one small hand fisted in my t-shirt like she was afraid I might disappear.

Joy had slept. But not well. Every little sound in the hallway made her tense up. I figured that she was waiting for boots to come thundering through another door.

This bastard had escalated beyond harassment. Beyond threats. He'd weaponized the police against us.

I carefully eased out from under her, my muscles protesting the cramped sleeping position. Joy murmured something in her sleep but didn't wake. Good. She needed rest, but if I didn’t get a chance to move around a bit, just a little bit, I might go insane.

The small chair by the window looked about as comfortable as a concrete block, but it would have to do. I settled into it and cracked the curtain just enough to let in some pre-dawn light. The parking lot below was empty except for a few scattered cars and the security patrol that Simon had arranged.

Every shadow could hide a threat. Every parked car could contain surveillance equipment. The SWATting had proven this psycho was willing to use any tool at his disposal.

My phone felt heavy in my hands as I pulled up the group text with the team.

GRAHAM: Anyone awake?

The response came faster than I expected.

SIMON: Yes, unfortunately. Little Drake's got the stomach bug from hell. Been up most of the night holding his head while he puked. What's up?

I switched to a private message thread. No need to wake up everybody with my churning thoughts.

GRAHAM: Can't stop thinking about last night. This bastard played us perfectly.

SIMON: The SWATting was smart. I'll give him that. But it also means he's desperate.

GRAHAM: Or getting bolder. Testing our responses. Seeing how we react under pressure.

SIMON: Could be. But he made a mistake too.