Page 59 of Hunt Me

Meanwhile, I felt dead inside.

At least she’d be momentarily protected in case the shit hit the fan.

Or worse.

With nothing else to say and fearful I’d break down into sobs, I ended the call, holding the phone while my entire body continued to shake.

There was no room for hysterics and I’d managed to momentarily imprison my fear. One down. One to go. For now. I waited as the second call connected, hopeful I’d catch Josie still awake.

“Hey, girlfriend. I’m glad you called since I was going to call you tomorrow to ask for a favor.”

“I’m glad I caught you,” I told her.

My voice sounded so fake.

Josie Sawyer was a good friend from the past. She’d been the first person I’d met when I’d moved here from Los Angeles just before I’d entered high school. I’d been the quiet kid then, the shy wallflower who’d quickly became a target for bullies. She’d plopped her butt down at the lunchroom table, defying her cheerleader friends, striking up a conversation. We’d remained fast friends all through high school before heading our separate ways, yet we’d never lost touch. She knew all my secrets and I knew hers.

But this was one she’d never learn for fear of putting her life into jeopardy. “A favor?”

“Could you pretty please water my plants maybe every other day? I had to go out of town unexpectedly for work. My normal plant sitter is away on vacation.”

A deep exhale left my lungs as a sense of relief replaced the suffocating anxiety that she’d ask too many questions about why I needed a place to stay for a couple of days. “How long are you going to be gone?”

“Maybe another week. This job is grueling, but I love it. Speaking of which. How is the job hunting going?” She’d accepted aposition as the sales representative for one of the large resorts, her job to entice major corporations and entertainers into staying in one of the exclusive hotels within the chain.

Thankfully, not one owned by the Dmitriyev family.

I tipped my head over my shoulder, expecting to see Mikhail’s face frozen on the screen. The news had shifted to something less dramatic.

Less damaging to my life.

“It’s not going as well as I’d hoped, but I have a few more interviews lined up.”

“Chin up, girl. You’ll find something or I could try and get you a job here.”

She’d tried to dangle the carrot before. “I might take you up on that.” I shifted to the back door, the patio on the second floor having a good view of the road leading into the apartment community. As I pulled the slats away from the glass and peered out, an audible shudder formed. Even with the decorative streetlights throughout the complex, it seemed so dark outside, so ominous.

I could almost feel eyes watching me, someone stalking me.

“Why were you calling me? A little late for you, Miss Studious.”

“Ha,” I said, shrinking away from the window. I remained a nervous wreck. “Oh, I wanted to ask you if I could borrow a shirt. You know, the pink one I like.” I’d thought of the first excuse that came to my mind.

“Pink one? You hate that shirt.”

“It goes with a suit I bought.”

“Well, you can have it then. I hate it,” Josie said, her lilting laughter depressing. She had her entire life ahead of her while mine was crumbling into the dust.

I laughed with her, the urgency to find a safe zone crippling. “I’ll pop over in the morning.”

“You’re a lifesaver. The key is under the pot of begonias on the back deck. When I get back, let’s do lunch.”

“You’re on. Have a great trip.” As soon as we hung up, I held the phone in both hands to my head as I took several additional deep breaths.

One last time I looked at the screen, maybe hopeful I’d see Mikhail’s face again, but my reason wasn’t about basking in the man’s gorgeous physique or a sweet reminder of the passion we’d shared.

I’d wanted another few seconds to memorize the face of the devil I’d not only danced with but had embraced, surrendering to his temptation.