Page 32 of Intrepid

The creepiest part about the garage was the closed stairwell, lit by what felt like a twenty-watt lightbulb. After parking, I slipped my bag over my shoulder and weaved my keys between my knuckles, before opening the door. Nerves primed and attention wired, I scampered down the two flights of stairs until I reached the main level, and once out on the street, I made my way up the sidewalk toward the apartment building.

I skidded to a halt at movement within the apartment entrance.

With a smile plastered on his face, Dane pushed through the door toward me, as if he were a welcomed sight.

“What are you doing here?” Jesus Christ, I hoped he hadn’t moved in, or something.

“I just popped in to see you. Your roommate’s a real charmer,” he said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder as if she stood behind him.

I glanced up toward the apartment, where Bea peered out of the window, the upturn of her brows telling me she was uneasy about something. “She let you in? What did you say to her?”

He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets like a kid who’d been caught stealing a porn mag—devious and fighting the urge to laugh it off. “I just said I was an old friend who’d come by to say hello.”

No. No, no, no. “I told you. We’re over. Stay away from me. You have a girlfriend, remember?”

With a troubled expression, his lips flattened in some dramatic display that could’ve earned him an Oscar, and he cleared his throat. “We broke it off.”

More like, he’d lied.

This isn’t my first rodeo, asshole.

“I realized when I saw you the other night, I’m miserable. And I’ve changed.” He stepped toward me, and the moment his hand touched my elbow, I drew back. I didn’t necessarily intend to draw a fist, but I did, and as his eyes dipped toward my balled hands and back, the amused grin on his face taunted me to hammer forward and knock those perfect white teeth from his mouth. “Y’gonna hit me, Sera? Tough girl with the big bad boyfriend in black?”

“Leave me alone. Don’t call. Don’t text. And don’t come here again, or I’m calling the police.”

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” His lips peeled back into a snarl, and he lurched toward me.

“Is there a problem here?” Ty’s voice from behind didn’t strike me as any more welcome, and I skirted around Dane, putting the apartment at my back and keeping both men in sight.

“Both of you. Stay the fuck away from me!” I inched toward the door, my knuckles still divided by the keys.

“Sera?” The confusion on Ty’s face didn’t match the smug smirk of Dane’s. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll see you around, Sera,” Dane said, heading toward the street.

Ty grabbed him by the arm as he passed, but Dane wrenched his arm back and stepped forward, in his opponent’s face.

Without so much as a flinch, Ty smiled back at him. “You’re asking for trouble, and trouble will inevitably answer.”

Standing slightly shorter, and a little less composed, Dane grinned. “Oh, yeah? What’s a lowly construction worker going to do, huh? You touch me, and I’ll have a lawsuit on your ass so quick, it’ll make your fucking hardhat spin.”

Ty just chuckled and shook his head, never breaking eye contact as the two of them continued to face off like a pair of stubborn bulls.

“I’m done. I’m done with both of you. Leave me alone, or I’ll have a restraining order slapped on both your asses.” I spun around, pushing through the entrance on a determined path to the elevator, and up to the third floor.

Not even two steps in the door, and Bea came around the corner, pale and shaken. “Is he gone?” she asked, her cigarette dangling from her fingertips, which told me she’d been rattled, because she didn’t usually smoke in the apartment.

“What happened? What did he say?”

“It’s not what he said.” She pointed past me, and for one split paranoid-filled second, I glanced back to make sure he wasn’t standing behind me. “That’s the guy who fucking punched me the night at the Savarine! He’s the one who got into a fight with Theo!”

“What?”

“That crazy asshole came up here, claiming to be your boyfriend! Please tell me that isn’t true, because that motherfucker is off his rocker, and I’ll have to move—”

“No. Hell, fucking no, he isn’t my boyfriend. We dated in high school, and I ditched him because he’s psycho.” I lodged my fingers through my hair, trying to make sense of everything as I made my way past her and dumped my bag beside the couch. “He’s been following me all along! Jesus Christ, he was at the party that night.”

“Yeah, that’s not all. Loverboy told me that, if I said anything to you? He’d make it round two for me.” She stuck her finger up as though flipping me off. “Fuck him. I’m not some meek little bitch who lays down for a man. Fuck. Him.”