“We keep in touch. Wayne has never figured out it was her who helped me. He had no idea we were close. If she hears anything, she lets me know.”
At his inquiring look, I explained. “Margie’s a bartender at the place he and his friends hang out. She hears stuff and calls me.”
“That could be dangerous for her.”
“That’s what I told her. But she insisted it wasn’t. They don’t pay her any attention. She’s older, married, and Wayne had no idea we were even friends. She was certain she was invisible to them.”
I stopped to take a drink of the tea and clear my throat.
“But something happened,” he guessed.
I nodded. “She called me Saturday night. Somehow, Wayne found out I was in Ontario. She heard him telling the guys he’d tracked me down and that I was somewhere outside Toronto. He said he was coming for me as soon as he was certain of my location.”
“How do you think he found you?”
“She doesn’t know. But he seemed so confident, she thought I should know. Then she heard him tell the guys he’d gotten my cell number.” I shuddered. “She was worried because her purse had gone missing, then showed up exactly where she’d left it. She wondered if he’d somehow gotten his hands on it. I thought she was worried for nothing, but now—” I swallowed “—the calls I’ve been getting I thought were scammers. I think it was him. I think he somehow was tracing my location.”
Stefano frowned. “He’d need help for that.”
“He had friends who were into computers and illegal stuff. I-I think he could do it.” I gripped his hands, ignoring the flash of pain.
“She could be right, then.”
“Yes.”
“But she’s being careful?”
“She says she’s fine. That he would never try anything anyway. Her husband is a big guy and a cop. Her son is a firefighter who knows Wayne and has never liked him.” I fidgeted, feeling the fear building. “She said she was watching him and his buddies as closely as she can. I begged her to be careful.” I worried my lip.
“She heard him say I had someone new. And that he was going to make sure everyone involved suffered.” A sob escaped my mouth. “I don’t know how he knows that—”
My words were cut off as Stefano dragged me into his arms.
“Hush, Tesoro. None of that is going to happen.”
“I-I can’t risk it. I can’t risk you,” I sobbed. “I wanted to run right away, but I knew I had to plan it. She promised to keep an eye on him. He has a pattern and is at the bar every second day. If he goes missing, she is going to call. I figured I had a few days to get ready and go. Get a couple more shifts at Ziggy’s so we had some extra money.”
My explanations obviously made no sense to Stefano.
He pulled back, shaking his head, cupping my face. “When will you get this? What do I have to do, Gabby? You aren’t alone in this anymore. If he comes after you, he’ll come through me, through Brett and Maxx. God forbid, through Charly. He will never get to you.”
“I got too close to too many people this time. They’re going to get hurt just by being nice to me,” I whispered in horror. “I have to go. Don’t you see that?”
He cupped my face, shaking his head. His dark eyes were fierce and determined. “You aren’t going anywhere. No one is going to get hurt except him. He isn’t getting near anyone.”
My crying caused me to start coughing.
He stood, left the room, then returned, handing me another mug of sweet tea.
“Drink.”
I sipped, the cough abating. Then kept talking. “I have to disappear. Stay ahead of him.” I met Stefano’s eyes. “He wants Theo back. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let him get his hands on my son. I will keep running before I allow that to happen.” My throat became constricted, and I couldn’t talk anymore. Stefano pressed the mug to my lips.
“Drink.”
He waited until I swallowed, then took the mug and set it on the coffee table. He grasped my hands, chafing at the cold fingers, careful not to touch the burned skin. “He won’t.”
“Legally, he has rights.”
“He lost those rights the day he hurt you and showed his true self.”
“Which he never showed anyone but me,” I replied.
“And you’re certain the calls came from him?”
“I am now.”
“Why? What haven’t you told me?”
“I got a text in the middle of the night Saturday. It came from an unknown number, but I know it’s him.”
“What did it say?”
“Gotcha.” I swallowed the nausea that was building as I thought about the terror that single word evoked. The only thing that kept me from running right then was that I knew he was still in BC since he’d been at the bar that night. “He used to say that to me before he exploded. When he’d have me trapped in a corner and I couldn’t get out.”