Blind Date(42)

Maybe they're from Jacob.

Yes. Yes. That makes sense.

"They're probably from Jacob," I say, but my voice is strained with anxiety.

"Probably," Ace says. "But I need to check first."

He slides his arm from around my waist and carefully presses my back against the wall before letting me go. "Stand here. Better for me to check them and make sure they're safe. It's probably nothing. I just have to be sure."

My heart feels as though it's sitting in my throat the entire time as I watch Ace move towards the flowers sitting outside my apartment in the hall, resting against the door. He kneels down, tilting his head and pressing his ear close. Is he  …  is he listening for a bomb? My knees start shaking, and I press a hand to my chest, trying to calm myself down. For a few minutes, Ace sits like that, and then he finally lifts his head back up and carefully scans the flowers.

He comes up with a card in his fingers, and quickly pulls it from the envelope and reads it.

I know the flowers aren't from Jacob when a curse floats down the hall towards me. Ace shoves the card into his pocket and continues to inspect the flowers, moving them aside, sticking his hand into the middle of them, and then finally he picks them up, strides straight past me to the end of the hall, and dumps them in the bins there.

"Ace?" I whisper when he arrives beside me again.

He doesn't say anything, he just tucks his arm back around my waist and pulls me into him again.

"Ace," I say again. "What did the card say?"

He keeps his eyes averted straight ahead, but I see the muscle in his jaw jump slightly.

This isn't good.

"Ace, please," I whisper.

He exhales, another curse passing his lips, and he looks down at me. "It said ‘Take it easy on that ankle, you're so incredibly clumsy! Love you, Ray.'" 

I make a pained, terrified sound in my throat, and Ace's fingers squeeze around my waist, reassuring me or just stopping me from falling, I don't know.

"Oh God, I twisted my ankle once cleaning the house, and Raymond sent me flowers with that exact card."

God.

How does this person know everything? How?

"It's okay, Hart," he murmurs, his voice distracted. "We'll figure this out."

Will we though?

"Why is he pretending to be my husband, when I already know it's not him?"

Ace unlocks my front door with the new key. "Just messing with your head, possibly trying to get you to figure out how he knows all this stuff. It's all a game."

"Why me, Ace?"

"I don't know, but I will figure it out."

He steps into my apartment and walks me over to the couch, setting me down carefully before turning and striding back to the door, locking it. He glances around for a few minutes, and then disappears down the halls. He's gone for a few more before he comes back. "There is no one in here."

I swallow. I really don't feel so good.

"Your friend Taylor, is she busy tonight?"

I nod. "She's working."

"You got any family nearby?"

I shake my head. "No, it's just me."

He nods. "Then I'll be staying again. I'll bring my work over, I have a lot to do."

It's not a question. It's just a statement.

One I don't argue with. If he wants to stay, I'm not going to try and stop him. I need someone here, because the uneasiness in my chest is getting heavier and heavier by the second. I don't want to be alone, and I certainly don't want to be left to think about the fact that I might be the next victim of a serial killer.

It just doesn't make sense.

It's something you read about in books, or see in movies, but it's not something you actually expect to happen to you. It's almost unrealistic, like it's fictional, except I know it isn't. I can feel it lodged in my chest, a fear that I'm not familiar with. I don't feel okay, I don't feel okay at all. So I won't be telling Ace he can't stay. He can stay with me every second if it means I'm not left alone.

"We're going to figure this out."

My eyes swing to his, and he's studying me. He must be reading the look of terror on my face, because he's giving me what is probably the softest expression he's ever given me.

"What if we don't?" I say, my voice a little stronger, but still shaky.

"Hartley, we will."

The thought of what will happen if the killer gets hold of me has a frightened sound rising up and escaping my lips. I press a hand over my mouth to hold it back, but Ace has already heard it and his eyes are focused on me, intense.

"Look at me."

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut and holding a hand firmly to my mouth to stop the noises from escaping. A big hand curls around my knee, squeezing.

"Look at me, Hartley."

I shake my head again.