Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
And with that, I launch into my story, telling her every single detail, right from the very start, covering every last encounter with this asshole, even going as far as to tell her about the times he’s forced me right into Knight’s arms.
The words fall out of me with ease, that is until I tell her about Laith, then the perfectly structured wall around my heart crumbles to the ground. I break into heartbroken sobs as Izzy tries to process everything that’s happening.
“No,” she tells me, disbelief thick in her tone. “That’s not possible. I was talking to Laith just last night. I texted him looking for you. He responded.”
“No,” I rush out, feeling sick at what I have to tell her. “That’s not Laith. I thought the same thing when he was texting me, but it’s not him. He’s gone. I saw him with my own eyes. He’s gone, Iz. It’s the stalker. He’s been using Laith’s phone as a means of communication with me.”
“No,” she whimpers. “He’s not dead.”
“I’m sorry, Izzy.”
She cries over the phone, and as she tries to process, I tell her the rest of my story, not stopping until I reach this very moment in time.
“I don’t even . . . I don’t know how to process all of this.”
“Believe me, I know. It’s a lot. It’s fucked up, and it terrifies me, but you need to promise me that you’ll be careful. This guy is ruthless. He’s killed four people, and I can’t have you or Knight being next.”
“Harper—”
“No, promise me, Iz,” I beg of her. “Promise that you’ll be careful. Every new person that you talk to could be him. Just keep your eyes open, and then tonight, I can come to your place, or you can come here, and we can just process everything and cry.”
“Cry. Yeah, I think I’ve already started.”
“Me too,” I say as tears roll down my cheeks.
“You really have no idea who this guy is?”
“Not even a little. He’s like a ghost that just shows up to terrorize me and then slinks away the moment he’s satisfied.”
“He sounds like an asshole.”
I scoff. “Yeah.”
“Why do I have to work right now?” she says. “I’m sorry this is happening, Harper. I wish I had known, or that you felt like you could have told me. We were in the club and he was right there.” I can almost hear as the shivers sail down her spine. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, okay? He’s going to have to go through me before he gets to you.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“He can’t hurt me,” she says. “I take Pilates, you know?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Stop trying to make me feel better about it all. I’m trying to be in my feels.”
“You can get lost in your feels tonight. I’ll bring a bottle of wine, and we can just let it all out, but until then, you need to hold yourself together until Knight gets back and can make sure this bastard doesn’t lay a horny hand on you.”
“Agreed,” I say.
“So, what’s your plan?”
I shrug, even though I know she can’t see. “I don’t know. Maybe some needle therapy.”
“Oooh, yes. Another tattoo to piss off your mother. Sounds perfect to me.” Izzy laughs before letting out a heavy sigh. “Okay, I love you, girl. I have to go. The models have just arrived for the shoot, but try not to get yourself in trouble. And Harper?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really sorry about Laith. I know how close you were.”
A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I try to smile through the pain. “Thanks, Iz. I’ll see you tonight.”
She ends the call, and I just sit for a minute, needing to process everything, and as I find my heart still stable in my chest, I get up and finally get started with my day.
Twenty minutes later, I’m back at my apartment, packing a bag of clothes, my toothbrush, and my favorite shampoo and conditioner to leave in the back of my car for if and when Knight decides to eventually kidnap me. Let’s be honest, it’s coming. He knows it just as well as I do, and he’s bidding his time, hoping like fuck he doesn’t freak me out, and while I’m not down to have some beast of a man demand that I move in with him, I’m certainly not opposed to him kidnapping me for a week or two.
After searching my apartment for every last one of his shirts, I throw them in the bag too, and soon enough, I’m back in my car, heading straight for my favorite tattoo parlor. We have a few in Blackstone. One is owned by a junkie, another is owned by the local motorcycle club—though I’m pretty sure they’re cooking up something in the back—and the last and final parlor is a small studio owned by an awesome artist who makes killer designs and absolutely nails it every time. Harlow is always booked out months in advance, but she has a bunch of artists who work with her that can generally squeeze me in on short notice.