In the Shadows (The Club)

She wouldn’t lie. “Apology accepted.”

Their walk to the public lot happened in a comfortable silence. Zeke’s presence frightened away most of the shadows she imagined lurking outside the glow of the streetlamps. The warmth of hi

s hand on her elbow, his arm lightly wrapped around her back, didn’t hurt either.

She pointed at her car as they neared the lot. “There it is. I’ll be fine from here, I promise–”

But Zeke wasn’t paying attention to her. His eyes were fixed on a white rectangle tucked under one of her windshield wipers.

Chapter 4

In Syria, noting mundane details spelled the difference between life, mutilation, or death. Years and several doctors later, he’d finally found ways to stop slipping back into those old habits that often terrified people who’d never been in a combat zone before. Funny how such a simple, out-of-place item like a letter could shoot all that hard work to hell and send him scurrying into that familiar place.

“Give me your keys,” he told Vivian quietly.

She handed them over without protest, her hand only shaking a little. Her lips were tight and forehead wrinkled. He unlocked the car from a distance. Its lights blinked on and off, but even after they’d faded into darkness, there was no movement in the lot.

Zeke walked her closer toward the car, which seemed to be resting strangely. He dropped to a knee, then to his belly, peering into the shadows under the vehicle. He forced himself to breathe, to remember this was Karim, Texas. There weren’t any bombs here.

No bombs, maybe, but her rear passenger tire was flat. He would deal with that in a minute, once he knew the asshole wasn’t hanging around, waiting for her to try to fix the tire alone. After his breathing returned to normal and he was able to force down the panicked beating of his heart, he got up and handed her the keys. “Get in and lock the doors. I’ll get the paper.”

He ignored her fearful expression when he lifted the wiper and slid the piece of paper out from underneath. He opened it with as little handling as he could manage. The envelope was plain white, similar to the one he’d seen her carrying the other day. The letter inside was on printer paper, utterly non-descript.

The words were not.

She unlocked the car doors for him when he finished inspecting the rear tire on the passenger side. He slid into the seat, closing the door and letting her lock them both inside. The tension around her eyes gave away the real depths of her fear, but did nothing to slow the iciness taking hold inside him as the adrenaline surged.

“My car’s sitting funny,” she said, voice trembling.

“Your rear tire’s flat. Someone slashed it.”

“Shit.” She closed her eyes and bit down on her lower lip. He wasn’t positive, but it seemed like she was trying to keep from crying.

“What’s going on?” he asked, deliberately pitching his voice lower to keep from frightening her.

Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Nothing the police don’t already know about.”

“Viv–”

She wouldn’t look at him. But she also wasn’t ordering him to shut up or denying that anything was happening.

“Are letters like this normal for you?”

Her laugh was short and sharp. “God, no.”

He couldn’t get the words he’d just read out of his head. It’s almost time for us to meet. And only one will walk away, love. The handwriting was jagged, furious, in smudged, dark pencil. Maybe the cops would get a print off of it.

“Someone’s stalking you,” he said.

She stared over the dashboard into the darkness beyond the lot. “I know.”

“How long?”

“A few months, I think. Honestly, I don’t remember any more. It feels like it’s been forever.”

“So the guy I chased tonight...”

“Was probably him.” She looked at the envelope he’d placed on the dashboard. “I’ve never seen him before,” she admitted. “He’s getting braver.”