Stalked (Predators MC 4)

“No, you couldn’t.” Zoey smiled at his exaggeration.

“Didn’t you see that old man in the motorized wheelchair beating you on the sidewalk?”

“I could have beaten him if I wanted to.” Laughing, she pushed the button for the elevator. “I let him win.”

As the elevator doors slid open, she started moving forward when her balance became upended, and she felt air instead of the elevator’s floor. Her crutches fell into the empty elevator shaft, and a startled scream came from her as she found herself held in Stump’s arms. They listened to her crutches hit the sides of the shaft, and then two loud thumps when they landed.

Terrified, she gasped disbelieving at the gaping hole where the elevator should have been waiting. Stump’s own grim expression showed how close to death she had been.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt your knee?” He gently moved her farther away from the elevator, not releasing her from his tight grip.

“I’m fine… I almost died, didn’t I?” she asked shakenly.

“Damn close,” he muttered, setting her back on her feet. “Don’t move.” He started to move toward the elevator shaft, but she grabbed his arm, holding him back.

“Be careful.”

His harsh expression softened. “I will. You can let me go now.”

“Sorry.” Embarrassed, she removed her hand, watching worriedly as he went to the open elevator shaft.

When he turned back, his face was even grimmer. Taking out his cell, Stump walked back to her, taking her arm and ushering her to the doorway that took them into the lobby. Matching his footsteps, she listened to the one-way conversation.

“Ice, have Jackal call Penni’s building manager and find out why in the hell there aren’t signs posted that the elevator is out of service. Zoey would have bit the dust if I hadn’t caught her.”

Zoey couldn’t hear what Ice said, but Stump’s reply had shivers going down her back.

“That’s what I’m thinking, too, brother. Keep me updated. And for God’s sake, make sure the owner gets signs posted before someone gets hurt.”

“Ice thinks it was deliberate to hurt me, doesn’t he?”

“We both do. From now on, I’ll drive you back and forth from work.”

“I can’t be without my car.” Shaking her head, she nixed that idea. She had to have her own transportation. It had worried her constantly when she had first hurt her knee that she couldn’t drive.

“Too bad. You’re paying me to be your bodyguard, so let me do my job.”

“You didn’t want the job! I’m not going to be dependent on someone else to drive….” Her protests trailed off when they saw the red warning sign and yellow caution tape blocking access to the elevator in the lobby. “Why are there warnings here and not in the garage?” Zoey raised frightened eyes to his.

“Whoever removed the warning sign only wanted one person killed, and that is you.”

“There could be another explanation. I would have been hurt without a doubt, but I wouldn’t have died….”

“Just a few minutes ago, you said, would have died. That shaft goes down four floors to the offices that have a separate entrance on the lower level.”

“I prefer not to dwell on what could have been. We’re both unharmed; that’s what counts.”

Heading toward the stairway, she began silently chanting to calm herself, finding a positive outlook that she was still breathing and not being transported to the coroner’s office.

“I prefer….” It took Stump a few seconds to realize he was talking to thin air. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“I think that is pretty self-explanatory. I’m going to my office.”

“You can’t go up those steps on your knee,” he said, his long strides catching up with hers.

“Watch me.” Flinging the door open, she went into the stairwell. Taking a firm hold on the rail, she braced herself for the first step.

“Take one step, and I will carry your ass back to that matchbox car….”

She hesitated. The fierce expression on Stump’s face would give any sane woman a pause, but like Stump believed her to be, she was a kook, and whether he liked it or not, she was going to work.

Zoey did something she hadn’t done in years. She lowered her guard, exposing how vulnerable she felt after the near-disastrous fall.

“If you don’t want me hurting my knee, help me. I would help you if our positions were reversed.”

“Damn it to hell!” Swearing, he lifted her into his arms. “And you better not say a damn thing about me just cussing.”

“I wasn’t going to.” She wound her arms trustfully around his neck as Stump carried her up the stairs. “This time,” she clarified.

“You’re a piece of work.”

“My dad used to tell me every night when my mother tucked me into bed that I was one of God’s finest creations, right after oatmeal cookies.”

This close to him, she could smell the faint aroma of the coffee and cigarette he must have had before coming to her home.