“What? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. He’s pounding on the door, yelling for you. Saying he wants another chance. Aria, who the hell is this? Is it that guy from yesterday?”
“No,” I say quickly. “His name is Louis. He’s a client. I mean, I guess he used to be a client, I don’t know. We’re on our way.”
“I’m freaking out over here. It’s too early for this crap.”
“I’m coming. Just stay there.”
I jump out of bed. Brady’s already moving, already throwing clothes on.
Zoe hangs up the phone and I curse. I slip it into my back pocket.
“Come on,” Brady says. “I think it’s time to call the cops.”
I hesitate. “Are you sure?”
“Look, I have a friend, he’s a homicide detective but he’ll be able to help. We can keep it private if you really want. But we can’t wait.”
“Shit,” I say. “Fine. Okay. Call him.”
Brady dials as we hurry out of his apartment and down into his car.My heart’s hammering as Brady drives fast through the streets.
“What did he say?” I ask.
“He’s off duty today but he’s on his way anyway,” Brady says. “His name’s Bunk, a decent guy. We went to school together back in the day.”
“Really?”
“High school. Good guy. We kept in touch, get a beer sometimes.” His face is serious, intense. “He’ll help us.”
I’m chewing on my fingernails, an old habit, one I thought I kicked. But I guess it comes back in times of really bad stress, and I can’t think of anything more stressful than this.
“It’ll be fine,” he says. “We’re close. Zoe will be okay.”
“I know, I mean, it’s just…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I’m scared for him. I’m afraid he’s going to do something stupid.”
“Stop thinking about him, Aria,” Brady says. The anger in his tone surprises me. “Why do you give a shit?”
“He’s a good person,” I say defensively.
“He’s a fucking psycho. He’s stalking you down, threatening you, trying to break into your apartment. He found out where you live against your wishes.”
“He’s having a hard time…” I say, trailing off.
Brady shakes his head angrily. “Listen to me, Aria. You don’t owe this guy anything. Hell, you don’t owe anyone anything, including me. If you want to tell me to fuck off when our contract ends, you can do that. If you want to take the money and disappear, you can. You don’t owe us anything. You don’t owe them anything.”
I look away from him. I know he’s right, I’ve been thinking something like it ever since I started this thing with him. I know I’ve gotten too caught up in my little group of men, in helping them, in trying to make them better.
I forgot how to make myself happy in the process.
But still, it’s hard. I know Louis, I’ve spent a lot of time with him. I don’t believe he’s here to hurt me. I don’t think that’s even on his mind.
He just wants to feel special. To feel like he matters.
But why do I have to give that to him?
I only did it before because he was paying me. It’s nothing more than that. At the end of the day, I have to prioritize myself, my own safety, my own feelings. I can’t keep worrying about other people.
“You’re right,” I say softly.
“I know I am. Put yourself first and forget about this stupid asshole.”
I take a sharp breath and let it out. “Okay. All right. I’m trying.”
“Good.” His expression softens. “Sorry if that was harsh. I just… I don’t want to see you let that guy hurt you anymore.”
“I won’t. I tried, but I can’t let this go any further. It has to end here.”
He smiles and puts a hand on my leg. I grab it in both of mine, squeezing his rough fingers, worry flooding through me but tinged by something else.
It’s hope. It’s the belief that I’m not going to just keep stagnating, keep waiting for something better to come along, because I think that something better is already here.
We park outside of my apartment. It looks quiet as we climb out of his car. Zoe called me maybe ten minutes ago, and I hope she’s still okay.
Brady leads the way and I stay close to him, heart hammering in my chest. I go to unlock the front door, but it’s hanging open already. He glances back at me, worry on his face. “Maybe you should stay here.”
“No, I’m coming.”
He hesitates but nods. We push forward into the apartment.
That’s when we hear the yelling. Brady hurries forward, down the hall, toward my apartment. The door is hanging open and it looks like someone blew the door handle off completely.
“You stupid BITCH,” the voice yells. “Where the hell is she? I need her, god damn it. I need her!”
“I don’t know what you want,” the other voice says, and recognition snaps into place.