His Ballerina

That was how my entire day went. Every time I glanced out the window at the diner—when I had the chance to do it and wasn’t too busy being overwhelmed by a busier-than-normal day—I noticed a black SUV sitting at the curb. Across the street, then further down later on in the day.

It could’ve been two separate drivers. Couldn’t it?

I’m still asking myself that question as I grab my bag and hurry out through the back door. I’ll take the streets and sidewalks tonight as soon as I make it out of the alley behind the gym. The front door is always padlocked by the time I leave, so I don’t have a choice of how I exit. All I have to do is lock the back, and that’s it.

After I do, I turn around, ready to sprint if I have to.

And I end up running straight into a chest covered in a black leather jacket.

My head snaps up, and I look straight into Archer’s eyes. They’re dark, stormy.

He’s pissed. Maybe I wouldn’t have run into him if he hadn’t been standing there, watching me.

“What is wrong with you?” It comes out as a bark. “Why can’t you get it through your head?”

“I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to bump into you.” And I would be running right now if it wasn’t for him holding my arms.

He blinks hard. “Huh?”

“If you weren’t standing here all quiet, I would’ve known you were there, and I wouldn’t have bumped into you so hard.” I’m starting to think again, now that the shock is wearing off, and it occurs to me that he must’ve been waiting.

Watching. Holy hell, he was watching me. Has he been watching all day?

His hands tighten to the point where I wonder somewhere in the back of my panicked brain if he’ll end up bruising me. “I was talking about you walking around here late at night, alone. Didn’t I already warn you last night? What does it take to get through to you? Don’t you know where you live?”

“Of course, I do, and you’re starting to hurt me.”

Just like that, the pressure from his hands eases. But he doesn’t apologize. “This place isn’t safe. The gym, the neighborhood, your apartment. Especially not your apartment. You have no idea what I saw last night when I was outside.”

So it was him. I don’t know what to think, what to say. Whether I should ask what he thinks he’s doing, stalking me.

One thing is obvious. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it. He doesn’t even sound apologetic when he talks about sitting outside my building all night or embarrassed. He should be.

I doubt a man like him feels embarrassment over anything he does. Or guilt. I did watch him murder somebody in cold blood, didn’t I? What do I expect?

He looks me up and down. “You’re not staying here another minute.”

“Wh-what?”

“What did I just say? It’s not safe. Somebody has to look out for you if you won’t do it yourself.” I don’t know if he’s disgusted or determined. Either way, it’s enough to make him hold onto me and practically drag me away from the building, toward the street.

“Where are we going?”

“Until we find someplace better for you, we’re going to my place. You’re coming home with me.”

“With you?” I plant my feet. Even he can’t move me when I’m determined not to go. “What are you talking about?”

He tugs my arm with a scowl. “Stop wasting my time. You’re coming with me, and that’s that.”

“I’m not. You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do.”

When he cocks an eyebrow, my blood runs cold. “Can’t I? You don’t think I can make you do anything I feel like? You’re sure about that?”

“I—I mean—”

His eyes narrow, his jaw twitches. “Because I can. And I will. You’re getting in my car, and I’m bringing you home with me for your own good. Either you come with me, or I take you. It’s your choice.”

Not much of a choice. I can either go with him or have him force me into it. Either way, he’s going to get what he wants. All things considered, I would rather come out of this unharmed.

Though what could he do to me once we’re alone?

Couldn’t he have chosen to hurt me last night if he wanted to?

All of this goes through my head in a flash, the way thoughts tend to do when a person is terrified. “Okay, fine,” I decide. “I’ll go with you.”

“Smart girl.” He pulls me the rest of the way to the shiny black car, which I’m now sure I saw throughout the day. It just about swallows me up when I climb inside. I’ve never felt so small and defenseless in my life, which is saying something after everything I’ve seen and lived through.