Page 11

Chapter Eleven

I have a natural lie detector or bullshit detector as I like to call it. -Flora

I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. Why isn’t anything coming out?

Wallace pushes me up against the tree trunk, and I try desperately to remember the self-defense moves that I’ve been taught.

Why, oh why, didn’t I listen to my instincts? Why did I decide to walk home alone?

Wallace’s cologne makes me want to gag and my tears burn with unshed tears. I knew something was wrong from the moment he approached me. He’s always given me the creeps, but I thought he was relatively harmless.

It seems Tim’s creepy best friend has been waiting to get me alone and now is that time.

“I saw you in the restaurant. Already on a date with another guy, huh? Dumped my buddy and moved on like the whore you are. Tim said you were a frigid bitch, but you’ll give it up to me, won’t you? Sluts like you always do.” The alcohol on his breath combines with the smell of his cologne and vomit threatens to spill over my lips. I’m frozen. Why am I frozen? Why can’t I scream? Why can’t I do anything?

I can’t because my mind is screaming with memories from another time, another attack.

I lay my head back against the tree trunk and wait for everything to be over. I’m not here. I’m not really here.

A blur of black hurdles itself at Wallace, and suddenly the smell of him and the feel of his bulk pressing against me is gone. He’s simply gone.

I open my eyes to see two figures wrestling on the ground. Grunts and the crunch of bones are the only sounds in the air now.

The figure in black is not merely fighting Wallace, he’s killing him.

“Stop,” I say softly, my voice not ready to cooperate yet.

The man continues to pound a now-unconscious Wallace into the ground.

“Stop!” I finally yell hoarsely.

The man in black finally releases my attacker and Wallace’s body slumps to the ground.

My savior turns to look at me and I suck in a deep breath. Dark eyes assess me from a face that’s nearly non-descript except for a small scar next to a slightly crooked nose. The face is handsome, but not perfect.

I cock my head to the side and study this man who came out of nowhere. Still, for some unknown reason, there’s a sizzle of something that crosses between us when our eyes meet. Familiarity hits me in the gut. The man from the bar.

“You? What are you doing here?” I ask in a dazed voice.

He stands up slowly and approaches me. “I’m no one. Just passing by. Looked like you needed help.” He reaches out, but then seems to think better of it and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need anything? Need me to call someone?”

My body is no longer shaking. I’m no longer scared. There’s a sense of peace that washes over me. Whoever this man is, he’s not someone I need to fear. I know it instinctively. I know immediately that he won’t hurt me.

I shake my head. My normal snarky self is contained within this quiet shell. I wonder where the hell all my gumption is gone.

“No, I’m fine.” I pause. “You saved me.” I glance over at my savior again, noting that he has no scrapes on him whatsoever while his opponent has finally awakened and is moaning on the ground.

“Who are you? Why were you at the club the other night, and now here? Are you following me?” I step closer, wanting to touch this man, wanting to find out why there’s recognition in my gut and a warmth in my heart. Where did these feelings come from?

He shrugs and a frown crosses his face. “It’s just a coincidence. Savannah isn’t that big. Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”

I wave away his question. “I’m fine.”

I step closer again and he takes one step back. We’re in a dance, the two of us. He isn’t just some stranger. He’s someone important. I feel it in my bones.

He glances over his shoulder at the figure on the ground who is still moaning.

“You should go to the campus police. File a report. Stop this guy before he tries to do this to someone else.”

Those are the first words he’s spoken that have real emotion. There’s rage in those words. Serious and brutal rage.

“Yeah, I will.” But right now, I’m not worried about Wallace or what almost happened. There’s something here. Something I desperately need to figure out. Something that’s bugging me and tugging at my subconscious.

I take one more step forward and catch it. There it is. The scent of peppermint. The scent that’s been lingering nearby for weeks.

“It’s you.” I point and rock backward on my heels. “You’re the one who’s been following me. For weeks. You’ve been watching me.”

His dark eyes widen.

“Fuck,” he says succinctly.