Chapter Thirty-One

Danica

M y face blanches as I stare at the bloody box in my hands. Feathers, so many feathers, tinged a dull red from the blood dripping off their edges. In the middle of it all, a bird, naked and dead, lies with a note pinned in place with a knife caked in the crimson liquid that has long since dried in place. There is so much blood, too much for it to have come from the bird itself. And from what can be seen of the naked animal, there are no other wounds outside of the one where the note rests. Which means the blood had to have come from something else. Possibly someone else.

Forcing down the nausea that is welling up inside me, I run a shaky hand through my hair as the box drops to the ground, blood and feathers marring my tiled entryway. This box was inside my home. Inside. And my alarm hadn’t gone off. How the fuck did they get in without setting off security? Oh God! They could still be here! Without another thought, I spin on my heel and rush out the door, not bothering to set the alarm or lock it. Clearly the simple measures mean nothing to my intruder, and I don’t want to stick around long enough to find out if anyone is lingering in the shadows of my quiet apartment.

Quickly, I make my way down the hall to the elevator, and once the doors enclose me safe inside, I pull out my phone, and order an uber. I need to get somewhere safe. Somewhere public. Jonathan. I need to reach Jonathan. With a ding, the elevator opens to the lobby and I breathe a sigh of relief as I see the uber pulling up in front of the building. One of the nice things about being in such a large city is that you don’t often have to wait long to wait for a ride when one is needed. I pull my hood up to block out the wind and rain as I make my way out of the building into the rainy night and step up to the window.

“You Danica?” The driver is leaning over the passenger seat and I have a flashback to another day, another driver who showed up at just the right moment when I needed a quick escape. I just nod, double-checking my phone to make sure the name and face on the screen match that of the driver in front of me before getting in.

The pulsing beat of the nightclub fills my veins as I make my way over to the crowded bar. I feel out of place in my yoga pants and jacket, but couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. Finn is out of town, and for the entirety of the Uber ride over here, I wasn’t able to reach Jonathan. There was no way that I was going to go to either of their places if they aren’t home. Whomever it was that left me the package was able to circumvent my security, and I know that it just so happens to be the same system that Finn and Jonathan both use at their place, as they were the ones who designed it. If they aren’t there then their homes aren’t secure. Besides, whoever the creep is that is leaving this shit for me has to know that I frequent both of their places, and would probably know to look for me there, if they were indeed trying to find me as the note implied.

And even though The Magic Bean Stop is open at all hours and is technically a public place, that was not an option for me either. Not with Wolfie and QT sleeping in the apartment above the shop. If there was even the smallest chance of danger, I refused to drag them into this any more than they already are, just by being associated with me. It’s bad enough that I have had to stop having Wolfie over for our weekly sleepovers. I wouldn’t risk his safety to try and improve my own.

The cops were of no use at this point either. I have tried dozens of times to file reports about the notes and creepy gifts being left for me, but they have been largely dismissive of my concerns. Besides, Finn’s team has access to . . . alternative methods. . . that the police do not. And they have turned over every stone already trying to nail this creep to the wall, with no luck. If Finn with all his computer genius, and Jay with all his physical security haven’t been able to keep this fucker out of my life, then there isn’t anything the police would be able to do differently. No, I will just sit here at this bar while I try to figure shit out. At least here I am in a crowded room, surrounded by possible witnesses should the stalker try anything shady.

Elbowing my way through the throng, I finally manage to squeeze my way between two burly dudes trying to buy a few beers. They pay me no attention, and I huff out an annoyed breath. Finally, they take their drinks and leave, clearing out a spot where I can actually sit on the barstool. The bartender is slammed and I don’t bother trying to get his attention, instead, pulling out my phone and shooting off a text to Roberts.

Me: Someone was inside my apartment. They left a nasty. . . present. . . for me to find. They got in without triggering security.

Roberts: Where are you?

Me: *drops a pin* I am safe and in a public place. Finn’s out of town and I couldn’t reach Jay. Didn’t want to risk going back to somewhere where I would be isolated.

Roberts: Good

Roberts: Stay where you are. I’ll check it out and send someone to come get you.

Roberts: Do not talk to anyone and don’t leave until my team gets there.

Me: Trust me, I won’t.

Roberts: Be careful, kiddo.

“What’ll you have?” I glance up at the sound of the bartender shouting to me over the pulsing music.

“Just a Shirley Temple.” He nods and is off to make the order. Not my drink of choice, but I won’t put myself in a compromising position by drinking when I need to be alert .

The bartender comes back a short time later, placing the beverage on its napkin in front of me. “One Shirley Temple.” With a friendly smile and a wink, he is off, helping another patron a little further down the bar.

“Hey baby, sure you don’t want something a little stronger?” A voice oozing with charm sounds near my ear and I glance up sharply, cringing back at the oily hair and sickeningly sweet smile thrown my way. “My treat.”

“No thanks.” A tight smile, trying to be polite but dismissive.

“You here by yourself, baby? How about a dance?” He pushes further, and a tingle of awareness creeps up my spine. Yeah, this guy is definitely giving me the creeps.

“I’m good thanks. Just waiting for a friend.”

The stranger pushes, grabbing at my waist. “Aw, come on baby. Let me show you a good time. Just one dance. You know you want to.”

“She said no, asshole.” A voice cuts in, low and cold but somehow, I know the stranger still heard him from the way he stiffens, his grip on my waist tightening, even as I try to move away. “Sorry I was late, diavoletta. Post-game interviews went a little longer than normal tonight.” Coming up on my other side, Theo bends down, kissing me lightly, before straightening and glaring at the stranger still holding on to me.

“Holy shit! You’re- you’re Theo Giovanni!” Starstruck. That is the only way I can describe the look on the stranger's face as his grip tightens on my waist in excitement, causing me to wince.

“And you have your filthy hands on my girl. If you want to keep them, I would suggest backing the fuck off right now.” He glares in the stranger's direction.

Instantly, the man lets go of me, backing off several steps as he raises his hands placatingly. “Sorry man! I didn’t realize she was your girl. Would you- I mean- could I get your autograph man?” Seriously? I gape in astonishment at the nerve of this guy.

Theo’s face is deadpan as he responds, “I don’t pander to assholes who harass women. Seriously, no means no motherfucker. Now back the fuck off before I put such a large dent in your fake smile and doctored nose that no girl will give you the time of day.” With one last glare at the pushy stranger, he turns his attention back to me, replacing the creeper's touch with his reassuringly steady hand instead. “Come on, la mia diavoletta. Let’s dance.” And with that, he leaves no room for argument as he throws some cash down for my drink before grabbing my hand, threading his fingers through my own and leading me onto the crowded dance floor .

As we weave our way through the throng of people, the sweltering heat presses into me, and I unzip my workout jacket, tying it around my waist, leaving me a little less conspicuous in my yoga pants, sports bra, and sneakers as we wind our way through the horde to the packed center. The bass is bumping and as Theo pulls me in close, the music slows to a more sultry number, almost as if he planned it that way.