Jack (The Kings of Mayhem MC Tennessee 1)

I stared at him.

Was he seriously asking me out?

Before I could reply, the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs turned both our heads, and Riley came running along the hallway, panting as she stopped beside Officer Johnson. “I got here as quick as I could. Are you okay?”

After ringing the police, I had called her.

I nodded. “Yes. Officer Johnson was just leaving.”

“What, so soon?” Riley asked, looking at him. “Aren’t you gonna dust for fingerprints or something?”

“Apparently, The Poet actually needs to do me bodily harm before they can help.”

Officer Johnson threw me an unimpressed look, but after putting on his hat, he handed me his card. “It has my number on it. Don’t be afraid to use it.”

I ushered Riley inside my apartment but turned back to watch Officer Johnson disappear down the stairs and out of view.

Closing the door, I turned to look at Riley to tell her about his invitation but stopped cold when I saw her face. She had drained of color as she studied something in her hand.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, an uneasy feeling spreading through the pit of my stomach.

She looked at me and swallowed deeply. “I think you’d better call Officer Johnson back.”

“Why?”

“I just found this on the floor. The corner was poking out from under the couch.”

She handed me the Polaroid she was holding, but my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold it still to look at it.

My heart went to my throat.

It was an image of The Poet dressed all in black with a balaclava over his face and a knife in his hand. It was taken in my bedroom while I was asleep in my bed.

Scribbled on the bottom of the picture were the words, “Next time.”

I looked at Riley. “Oh, God, Riley… he’s going to kill me.”

BRONTE

When he pulls into the driveway, I’m waiting for him on the porch. Again.

The sun is setting as I watch him park his bike and saunter up the concrete path to where I’m sitting, my body buzzing with anxiety, and I know he can see it written all over my face.

“Two days in a row, I’ve come home to you waiting for me on my porch.” His brows draw in when he reaches me. “What’s got you rattled, wildflower?”

Watching him sit on the step next to me, I hand him my cell and study his face as he reads the message.

His brows pull tighter. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s the reason I came here. I call him The Poet. He leaves me creepy messages, poems, riddles—”

“There are other messages?”

“Yes. Amongst other things.”

Jack’s jaw tenses. “You’d better tell me what these other things are. Is some fuck stalking you?”

I look away because stalking is such a terrifying word to face, but I nod because there’s no turning back now.

Jack’s fingers find my chin and lift it, so I have no choice but to look at him. As soon as my eyes meet his, I want to fucking cry. Tears spring forth, and I have to fight them back. I hate that The Poet is turning me into mush.

I see the concern in Jack’s dark blue eyes. “Do you have any idea who might be behind this?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Have you been to the cops?”

“Numerous times, but they seem to think it’s all in my head.”

“Come on,” he says, unfolding his big body to stand.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to get your things from your grandmama’s house because you’re staying with me from now on.” He hands me my cell. “And then we’re coming back here, and you’re going to fill me on everything that’s happened. Right from the very beginning.”

“It started with a poem pinned to my front door,” I say, dropping my bags on the dining room floor and sitting at the little dining table beside the window.

“Do you have the poem?”

“No, I thought it was creepy, so I threw it away. It freaked me out but not enough that I thought about keeping it for evidence.”

Jack sits across from me at the dining table. “Can you remember what it said?”

Unfortunately, I can.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, you’ll be both when I’m done watching you.” I shiver, recalling how random and weird the words had seemed at first, then how sinister and dark they became when I realized what they meant.

Red with blood, blue with death.

“At first I didn’t get it, but when I realized it was a threat, it really scared me.” I hadn’t been able to sleep that night. “But Sebastian and Riley kind of brushed it off when I told them. They said it was just someone messing with me and not to worry.”

“Sebastian and Riley?”

“They’re my friends.”

His eyes search my face. “But then something else happened.”

I nod. “About a week later, I came home to find two Polaroids pinned to my front door. They were of me walking from the school library to my car. Of course, I freaked out, and even Sebastian and Riley started to take it more seriously.” A cold lump lodges in my throat when I recall how frightened I was that day.