1. Marie

MARIE

A s my pace picks up, so do the steps behind me.

Following me.

Tracking me.

There's nothing to listen to on this empty street other than our echoing strides and my anxious breathing. The clacking of his shoes against the pavement resonates loud in my ears. The sound of my heels is nothing compared to the loud thuds from whoever the fuck is back there. It has to be a man. Those steps are too damn heavy to belong to anyone under two hundred pounds.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I'm too nervous to look behind me. In the movies, when they look back, that's when they have to start running. You run or you die. Even though in most cases it's too late by that point. Anyway, I'm in no condition to run.

I'm tipsy and in three-inch black studded Jimmy Choos that my mom got me for my twenty-fifth birthday. I'm not fucking stupid; if I started running, I wouldn't make it one minute before he caught me. At least right now whoever it is back there is keeping some distance. For now … I shake the unwanted thought away.

Maybe he's not following me , I tell myself over and over. He's just walking to his car or another bar; maybe he's just walking home. But after a few blocks the sound of him following me is unbearable. My heart rate picks up as the reality sets in. This isn't good. There's no way this is a coincidence.

A bad man is behind me, I know that much. There's no way in hell he's not following me. If he had good intentions, he would've said something by now. At some point he'll get closer and then I'll have to run. But I'm definitely going to make him work for it. If he wants to put his hands on me, then he's going to have to catch me and fight me. I'm not going to be a good little victim.

I wonder if I should throw down my clutch when I take off. It might distract him for a few minutes. Maybe he's only after money. I stare down at the simple black Coach clutch hanging from my wrist. Inside is a mere twenty in cash, my dead iPhone, raspberry lip gloss, and my ID. If he makes a move, I'm dropping it ASAP. I just hope the prick sees it and decides that's what he wants.

My confidence vanishes as I hear the steps growing closer behind me. The noise brings me back to this shit reality. Who knows what the guy behind me wants, but I'll save my strength for now and continue to pray that I'm not going to be mugged … or worse. I'm not a fool; at some point I'm going to have to book it. I'm saving my energy for when that time comes.

I try to steady myself, but it's so fucking cold out, just breathing hurts. I took a cab to get here and that was a mistake. Cabs don't come around this part of town unless they're dropping you off. And my phone died before I left the bar, so I couldn't call for a ride anyway. So I'm royally fucked unless I can make it to the train station. I fucking hate taking the train, but right now I would beg on my hands and knees to be there this very second. I doubt the man behind me will let me get close to the train station. Tears prick my eyes, but I shake them off. I'm not going to cry.

I hug my shaking shoulders as best I can while keeping up my pace and try to think. My hands are freezing. My black cashmere cardigan isn't anywhere near thick enough for the cold night air and the gloves that I thought were in the pockets are now missing. I debate on whether I should rub my hands back and forth against my upper arms or shove them in my pockets. Snap! The sound of something being crushed underfoot behind me makes me stumble as my legs lock up in fear. I shove my hands in my pockets and will my body to keep moving forward. I keep my eyes down and watch my warm breath turn to fog while the crumbling concrete moves beneath my heels.

What the hell was I thinking, listening to Lexi? She's a flake and lately she's been a shit friend. She wanted me to meet her so she'd have a wingwoman to help her score the sexy tattoo artist who touched up her ink last week. I remember her eyes lighting up when he mentioned the dive bar he goes to nearly every night after his shift. She's such a sucker for tattooed men. And that place was filled with them. She would've been in heaven … had she bothered to show up. Well maybe not heaven, since the guy she had her heart set on was busy with some bimbo who had her breasts on full display. From the way he was staring at them you'd have thought he was having a full-on conversation with her tits.

My phone died half an hour after I got there so I have no idea why she didn't show. She could've at least answered my texts though. I waited another half hour before I took off, annoyed with my dead phone and pissed off at her. I was too angry storming out to realize I wouldn't be able to catch a cab. If this prick wasn't behind me I would've turned around and gone back to the bar to use the phone. But now I'm blocks away and this uneasy feeling won't leave me. I've made one stupid decision after another and I don't know how I'm going to get out of this fuckup I've gotten myself into.

Stupid me wanted to be a good friend. Stupid me wore the skimpy outfit she picked out for me even though it's freezing. Stupid me believed her when she said she was on her way. Stupid me didn't charge my phone. And now I'm alone in the cold, on the wrong side of town, being followed. If I make it out of this—scratch that, when I make it out of this—I'm going to fucking kill Lexi.

Blake

She's going to break her damn neck in those shoes. She carries herself well enough and it's obvious she's used to walking in heels, but the sidewalk is all cracked to shit and it's only a matter of time before she trips and lands on her pretty ass. What the hell is a girl like that even doing walking down these streets? I know she's not from around here. I knew it the second I saw her tonight, taking her sweet ass time sipping that pink drink in the shithole dive bar that's practically my second home.

I've never seen her before but I sure as shit would've noticed if I had. Those eyes, deep chocolate brown, took my fucking breath away when I caught her staring. Of course she avoided looking my way the rest of the night. That pissed me off, but whatever. She's got beautiful curves with enough of an ass on her to grab onto while I take her from behind. Her gorgeous auburn hair goes down to her waist; I could wrap it again and again around my wrist and pull her head back to bite her neck, leaving marks all over that flawless porcelain skin. Damn she's beautiful. I bet the cold is making her pale skin redden. I could do a better job of making her skin flush though. And she'd fucking love it.

She's picking up her pace, so I slow mine a bit. Not enough to let her get away, but enough to calm her ass down. I'm sure she hears me following her. I'm probably scaring the shit out of her, although I don't mean to. I also don't give a fuck–maybe it'll teach her a lesson about walking home alone in this part of town. If she'd just waited a minute longer, I would've been able to ask her if she wanted me to walk her home or call her a cab. Or come home with me . But fucking Jace wouldn't shut his damn mouth about the shop. Like he can't tell me about the new equipment tomorrow morning when I come in for my shift.

A beautiful piece of ass like her shouldn't be walking around here all on her own. She probably came out to go slumming, thinking she wanted something rough. A bad boy to show her a good time. I'm guessing she changed her mind when she saw her options. It's one thing to have a fantasy, but it's another thing entirely to actually get down and dirty. A tic in my jaw starts to twitch, and I clench my fists thinking that must have been exactly what she was up to.

The thought of her and some fuckface having a one-night stand pisses me off, as if I have any kind of claim on her. After a moment, I check my anger–I don't know her. I shouldn't have any opinion about who she opens her legs for … those long legs that are on full display in front of me. At least while I'm on her ass, no one's going to mess with her.

I look ahead at her and notice she's got her arms wrapped around herself. Damn, she's got to be freezing her tits off. Why'd she wear such a short dress when it's February in New York? It's cold as hell. It snowed just last week, for fuck's sake. I shake my head while I watch her turn the corner.

She's getting close to the club and that's no good. I can't be seen stalking a chick, even if I do have good intentions. The MC would never believe that shit. I've wasted too much time already, I'd better catch up to her. I can at least offer her my coat. She's got to be frozen enough to accept that, even if she is scared shitless.