Roy’s been in my home. My new home. He went through my stuff and took the bra.
And I had no clue.
He could’ve hidden in my place and pounced last night. And instead of asking Tolyan for help like I should have, I was worried about what he was doing at that Owen guy’s house. And today I kept thinking about whether he killed the man instead of doing what I should’ve done.
I’m worried about a potential monster who hasn’t done anything to harm me, when a real monster that’s been toying with me for the last eight years was in my home. Maybe I’m afraid that I’d be putting myself at the tender mercies of Tolyan, who might well turn out to be a bigger and meaner monster
than Roy. But shouldn’t I focus on dealing with the ticking time bomb in front of me rather than a suitcase several feet away that may or may not be dangerous?
Panicked urgency swells, so big and so fast that I struggle to drag in air. I need to ask Tolyan for help now. For all I know, Roy could still be in L.A. When things get personal—like his going through my stuff—he usually comes himself and makes sure I know he’s been there, even though we don’t see each other face to face. When it’s about just intimidating me or hurting people around me, he sends someone.
I have to convince Tolyan to help me before anything else happens. And I have to make my case fast because Roy already knows where I live and where I work.
But how do I find Tolyan? He didn’t come to the jogging trail. He might not return to the café either, especially when he finds our coffee disgusting enough to toss without taking a sip.
Time to move my ass. Now!
I snatch the bra from Sean’s hand and throw it back into the package, then tuck the small box under my arm. “I gotta go.”
“Hey! You still have an hour left,” Eric says, glancing at his watch.
“Yeah, but I have to go.”
He frowns. “This isn’t cool.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but I really have to deal with this first.” I heft the box. “Consider it your penance for forcing me to open it at work.” Not that I would’ve felt better if I waited. But at least I wouldn’t feel this intense pressure to leave early.
“I didn’t make you open it!”
“You’re the one who was holding the box cutter.” I go to the back, pull the apron over my head and grab my purse from the locker.
Then I’m out the door, head swiveling as I exit onto the gray street. So many people. So many cars. Roy could be anywhere, watching. Or one of people who work for him. It doesn’t matter who’s doing the watching because Roy’s the one in charge.
My breathing roughens. Goosebumps break out over my skin despite the warm air.
Safety. I need safety.
Tolyan.
But where can I find him? So many office buildings. Which one is his? I gotta reach him before Roy grabs me. I run a rough hand over my face as I struggle to breathe through the swelling panic.
Come on, Angelika. Think! Which way did he go this morning?
He went left. But this is Los Angeles. There are tons of buildings in every direction. I don’t have the time to check every single one, assuming security would even let me. On top of that, it might alert Roy that I’m up to something, if he’s having me watched.
Then I remember what Tolyan told the chef at the hotel. He’s the one in charge of signing off for the event. And “the event” was sponsored by the Pryce Family Foundation.
I take out my phone and search for the foundation’s office. It has to be close.
Sure enough, it’s only a couple of blocks away. I dash over. A car running a red light veers, tires screeching, as it barely avoids hitting me while skidding to a stop.
I let out a scream, and my already shaky knees come close to buckling. My vision dims for a second, and I jerk away when a hand touches my shoulder.
“Are you okay?” says an urgent female voice.
“What?” I can’t process the question. Roy loves to hit people with cars. That’s one of his signature moves, and—
“Do you need us to call 911?” another person asks.