Page 57 of The Taskmaster

I hoped he could hear me. I hoped he knew who I was and was shitting himself on all the ways I could fuck him up.

I walked back to the open fire exit, went back into the stairwell and closed the door behind me. I peered up through the stairwell to the floor where her apartment was, and there she was, looking right down at me.

“Did you see who it was?” she asked, fear etched on her beautiful face.

“No, but I don’t think he’ll be back.” I knew that was a lie. He’d be back, and I needed to up my game, so that I was ready for him. I wouldn’t fail again.

I took the stairs two or three at a time, and when I got to her floor and where she was standing, I told her, “If you think I’m leaving now, you’ve got another thing coming. We need to talk.”

“I don’t know who that was,” she said, trying to pass it off as an unhappy coincidence.

“But you know why they were here,” I countered.

“Not really.”

“That’s not an answer, Abigail, and right now, I need answers.”

“I don’t have the answers you want.”

“I think you do.”

She folded her arms over her chest and jutted her chin out. “And why is that? Because I’m pretty tired right now. I’ve had the mother of all nights. I’ve come home to find that guy at my door. And I really don’t have the energy for whatever this is.” She used her hand to gesture between the two of us, and I took a deep breath, holding in the rage that’d been boiling over from the moment I’d laid eyes on the fucker breaking into her apartment.

“You’re telling me you’re going to sleep after what’s just happened? Bullshit. Now cut the crap, Abigail. Let’s go back to your apartment, and we can take it from there.”

“Take what from there?”

“The interrogation.” I smiled proudly, even though I felt anything but after letting that fucker get away.

From the way her face paled as she took in what I said, weighing up her options, I could tell she was panicking.

“Are you trying to scare me?” she whispered, lowering her gaze at me.

“Are you scared?”

She held my gaze for a few seconds, then said, “No, I won’t sleep. I’ll be replaying what happened in that house, on that boat, and in my hallway just now on a loop until I’m tooexhausted to even think. And yes, I’m scared. Scared about what I’ve done. What you saw and what happens next.”

“Then let me help you with that.” I started to walk back down the hallway towards her door. “Neither of us will be sleeping, so we may as well figure shit out together.”

She stopped in front of her door, bit her lip in thought, then took her key out and opened the door.

“Fine. But I have weapons. And if you step out of line, I’ll use them.”

She had blunt knives in her kitchen, an old bread knife in her bedroom, and a few shitty pairs of scissors. I think I’d survive.

“Stab away,” I said, grinning back at her as I followed her into her apartment.

Chapter Thirty-Three

ABIGAIL

It felt strange, letting him into my apartment. I didn’t invite people back. This was my safe space. But having him at my door, especially after what’d happened tonight, I felt like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He wasn’t my stalker, that was clear after we walked in to find that fucker trying to break into my apartment. At least, I assume it was my stalker; otherwise I had the shittiest luck in the world, and honestly, things could not get any worse right now.

Isaiah stepped into my living room, and I closed the door behind him. Thank God I had my camera to record everything. My little teddy bear cam. It wasn’t a hotline to the police, but it was something.

“How about we start by you telling me exactly who Angela Maynard is.” Isaiah sat down on my sofa and laced his fingers together as he sat forward.

“Do you want a drink or anything?” I asked, trying to stall for time and give myself chance to think.