Too Much to Lose (13 page)

“What?”

“That bad, huh?”

“Mitch, you have no idea…”

Jess

Just after nine p.m. it
happens. I’m watching crappy Sunday T.V. when I hear a shuffle. Nothing unusual
about that. The walls of the apartment are paper thin and footsteps and
shouting are a daily occurrence. But the hairs on my arms stand on end and I
stiffen.  Am I being paranoid after today? I can’t believe someone was shooting
at me. Why? But the flowers and weird phone calls on top of it all are enough
to set me on edge. More shuffling outside my door, then tentative footsteps.
Heart in my throat, I force myself to unclench the T.V. remote and turn to face
the door.

My vision swims. A pink envelope
sits on the floor in front of it, clearly having been pushed under my door.
Someone is out there. With slow movements, ones hindered by fear and
uncooperative limbs, I edge over to the door and pick up the letter. My hands
shake. I press my ear to the door first but I can’t hear anything. Then I brave
a peek out of the peephole. A shadow darts across the wall, as if someone is
skulking away and I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to prevent a squeak from
escaping.

I stand there with my eye
pressed to the peephole for a while but don’t see anything more. Finally
summoning the courage to look at the envelope, I press my back to the door and
turn it over. My name in the same careful writing that was on the flower cards.
The ripping of the letter as I open it seems insanely loud to my ears. Can
whoever delivered it hear me? Are they still out there somewhere?

I draw out the letter and a
strong sweet scent hits me. The paper is perfumed. That makes this even more
frightening. Like maybe this person bought the paper especially for me. Who
owns scented writing paper in this day and age? The words on it make my vision
blur. The letter and envelope drop from my finger before I even realize I’ve
let them go and I scrabble for my phone on the kitchen side.

It takes me several tries to
find Hunter’s name in my contacts even though I have very few in there. I press
call and hold my breath until the ringing stops and I hear a click.

“Jess?”

“Hunter, I need you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone… someone is outside my
apartment,” I whisper.

“Stay there. I’m coming over.
Don’t answer the door to anyone apart from me.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be about thirty minutes.
I’ll try to be quicker.”

He hangs up and I stand there for
a while, still frozen. Hunter is coming though. I’m not sure when I became so
reliant on him but knowing he is on his way soothes my racing pulse a little.

Footsteps again and the
pounding in my chest picks up. I yank open a kitchen drawer and pull out a
large knife. Back pressed against the door, I clutch the knife and wait. My
knees tremble at the thought of someone out there, waiting for me. Why are they
trying to torment me? Could Hunter have been right? Someone wants to hurt me?

The word
whore
plays
over and over in my mind. Is this to do with my past? I will forever regret my
desperate decision to take part in porn films. The only time I don’t feel like
a fraud or a dirty whore is in Hunter’s arms. No wonder I couldn’t resist
kissing him today. With him, it’s like I’m normal again. I can forget I had sex
with strangers for money—not very much money at that. When I was invited to do
a shoot, I thought it would be big bucks but turns out only the famous porn
stars earn a fortune. Half the girls I met worked second jobs or sold
themselves on the street.

For most people, doing porn is
as close to being a prostitute as you can get without standing on street corners.
Perhaps someone has figured me out and wants to teach me the error of my ways.
I snort and grip the hand of the knife until it digs into my palms. No need. I
figured that out long ago. If it hadn’t been for an empty belly and time on the
streets, I never would have even considered doing something like that, but the
studio made it all sound so easy. A few shoots and I could earn enough cash to
set me up for life. Idiot.

My muscles begin to hurt and my
back aches as I wait. I’m not sure how long I’ve been stood there but it seems
too long. What if something has happened to Hunter? Then the thump of boots
rings out and I tense, straining to listen. Is it my tormentor or my saviour?
And if it’s both, could Hunter end up in trouble? The thump in my chest turns
sickening and I feel light headed.

The knock on the door sends my
heart into overdrive and I leap away.

“Jess?”

I release the air from my lungs
and fling open the door. He steps in quickly and shuts it behind him. Before he
has a chance to say anything, I throw my arms about his neck and hold on tight.
The knife clatters to the floor. Hunter shushes me and smoothes his hands up
and down my back. My pulse slows and my throat loosens.

“What’s going on, princess?”

“There was someone outside my
door.” I wave a shaky hand toward it. “They left me a note.”

He releases me carefully, as if
I might fall to the floor without his support. He might be right. How did I go
from living on the streets and fending for myself to needing someone else so
badly? But then I never had someone—what?—
stalking
me before.

When he pulls open the letter,
I wince, bracing myself for his reaction. Maybe he’ll figure me out. I wasn’t
exactly thinking straight with someone hanging around outside my door. So much
for enjoying just one day of Hunter’s company and sending him on his way.
Between the kissing and the fondling and now inviting him into my mess of a
life, I’m doing very little to keep him out.

Hunter scuffs a hand across his
scruffy chin and ponders the letter. “Whore? What’s that about?”

I shrug. In denial? Perhaps.
Scared? Hell, yes. But I can’t uproot myself over some psycho. I pray my life
isn’t going to come crumbling down around me.

“An ex?” Something hard
glitters in his gaze.

“I don’t date.”

“At all?”

“Not for a long time.”

“You’ve attracted someone’s
attention. First gun shots, and now this.”

“We don’t know they were
shooting at me.”

His raised brow tells me to
stop being so stupid. Letter flung aside, he skims his gaze across me, a frank
assessing look. “Damn, you’re shaking.”

I glance down at my hands and
realize he’s right. Both hands clamped under my arms, I swallow. “I got some
flowers at work too.”

“Like the ones you got here?”

“Yeah. Calling me a whore too.”

“Someone really has it in for
you.” He curls a hand around my upper arm and guides me to the couch. Sitting
next to me, Hunter encloses my hand in his. “Jess, I can’t help you unless you
tell me what’s going on.”

The warmth is a shock to my
system and I chew my lips. Never has the desire to tell all been so strong.
Those wide shoulders and fierce brow look equipped to handle everything. But I
still don’t know this man. Not really. It’s too much of a risk.

But I do know what he does to
my body. Even with the threat of a stalker hanging over my head, my skin blazes
with need. It shoots to my core and consumes my mind. While I should be
figuring out why someone wants to scare me, I’m remembering those hands on my
skin and considering how it would feel to have them all over me.

“I don’t know, Hunter. Truly.
Maybe it’s someone from the pub or something.”

His lids droop slightly, disappointment
shadows his eyes. “There’s no one who has it in for you? Someone from your past
perhaps?”

“No!” I yank my hands from his
and stand.

“I’m sorry, Jess, but I’ve got
to ask. You know you can tell me, right?”

“I don’t like you implying I’ve
invited this kind of behaviour. I know how I look but I don’t want attention.
Even yours,” I snap before turning away and facing the bedroom door.

I hear his deep inhale. “I’m
aware you didn’t want my attention, but I don’t believe that’s true now.
However—” the couch creaks as he stands and I feel him behind me. His hands
come around my shoulders “—I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. This is
what I do, remember? If you want whoever this is to stop, I need to know more.
You’re so closed up, princess. You don’t need to be. Just open up to me.”

I stiffen and whirl to face
him. “Why are you pushing this? You don’t know me, I barely know you. Why are
you suddenly so invested in this?”

“I’m scared for you, okay?” The
words come out gruff and in a rush as if he struggled to admit as much.

This softens me. I let slip a
twisted smile. “I’m scared too. I didn’t mean to snap and I’m aware you’ve been
incredibly kind to me, even though I’ve given you no reason to be.”

His gaze searches mine. “You’ve
given me every reason to be.”

It seems like he might kiss me
but he changes his mind. I swallow my regret. “There’s very little to tell you.
I haven’t left a trail of broken hearts. Even if I had, why start doing this
now? It’s probably just some weirdo, picking on a random woman.” All the lies
threaten to clog in my throat. I’ve been keeping secrets for so long, why does
it feel wrong to lie to Hunter?

“Whoever this weirdo is, he
knows where you live and where you work. You might think this is nothing but
someone shot at you. Hell, they even tried to run you over.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That was
an accident.”

“I thought so at the time but
now… I’m not so sure. Face it, you’re in trouble.”

He says this so seriously I
almost believe him. Perhaps I do believe him. I can’t think why someone would
shoot at me. Ridding the world of sin probably. “So what do we do?”

“We can go to the police but
there’s not much they can do at the moment. If we find out who it is, we can
get a restraining order.”

I snort. Everyone knows how
useless those are.

He nods, telling me he’s thinking
the same. “I know. Until this person does something drastic, there’s very
little we can do.”

“I don’t want to go to the cops
anyway. They clearly didn’t think the shooting was personal. They’re probably
right.”

Hunter shakes his head.

“Will you stop trying to scare
me,” I hiss.

“I don’t mean to. I just need
you to understand what you’re up against.” He throws a look around and shoves
his hands on his hips. “Pack a bag, you’re not staying here. The doors are too
thin and there’s no security.”

“Of course there isn’t. Why
secure a dump like this?”

“Stop arguing and start
packing.”

I relent. The tortured flicker
in his mesmerizing gaze forces me to forget any words of protest. I go to my
bedroom and pull a tattered canvas bag out of the closet.

The man is worried for me.
For
me.
Crazy. I’ve never had anyone care for my welfare. My aunt tried her
best but she wasn’t that interested in me. If she had been, she might have
realized her husband was molesting me. After running away, I realized I at
least owed her the truth. I wish my aunt and I could have had a better
relationship. Her letter told me enough to know she’d left him. I couldn’t go
back though. Not after everything. How would she feel if she found out her
sister’s daughter had turned to porn in a moment of desperation?

I stuff some clothes into the
bag and stomp past Hunter to grab my make-up and toiletries. He must have done
something to my brain. It’s the only reason I’m being so obedient. Or it’s just
because he’s right. Whatever is going on, I don’t feel safe. Who better to
protect me than Hunter? He said he did security work sometimes. I hope that
means he knows what he’s doing. Hopefully once whoever this is realizes he
can’t get to me, he’ll lose interest.

Yes, I like that. That sounds
logical. I’m not going with Hunter because I’m dying for his lips on mine again
or I’m secretly hoping he’ll take me to bed and help me forget everything. I’m
going because this will solve my stalker problems.

“Ready?”

I zip up the bag and he eyes it
with distaste. He doesn’t need to know I used it when I lived in hostels and
never got around to replacing it. Tips don’t exactly stretch to luxury luggage
and in spite of what people believe, porn doesn’t pay well when you’re at the
bottom of the pile.

He snatches it from me. “Let’s
get you out of here.” His dark demeanour, stiff shoulders and creased brow set
me on edge. Is he still annoyed with me or is he really that scared for me?

And why is he so invested in my
welfare?

His Harley waits outside. Thank
God I only packed a small bag. He stuffs it into one of the saddlebags, brow
still etched with annoyance. I can’t figure out what I’ve done wrong here.

Without a word, he motions for
me to join him and we head for his place. It doesn’t take us long but the
journey leaves me tense and frustrated. I can’t enjoy the sensation of his firm
stomach under my hands or the rush of riding on a motorbike. My nerves are frayed
but I can’t be sure it’s because someone is trying to harm me. It seems more
linked to Hunter’s strange mood swing.