I'll Never Stop (Hamlet 4)

She was wrong.

So wrong.

He’ll never stop.

Her shoulders hunched under the weight of her certainty. She moved—twice. Tommy always found her, even after she registered for the address confidentiality program. He had Boone disable her old car, slicing three tires and removing the engine so that she couldn’t leave town the last time they met. She abandoned it, buying a used car with her dwindling savings, and started parking away from her new place, in case he was watching.

It didn’t matter that her new number was unlisted, or that it was blocked from appearing on other statements the rare times she called home. The speed with which Tommy always got it again made her give up on getting it changed. What was the point? He didn’t need her mother to pass it along, though Grace was certain she had one more than one occasion. His genius when it came to computers and the way he thought laws only applied to other people meant that he didn’t take him much effort to find it on his own.

The only way she could fight back was with the little things. So she deadbolted her apartment, she made sure she lived on the sixth floor, and she always parked in a well-lit area that was far enough from her place that she could only hope he couldn’t find her.

Again.

She was forever aware of her surroundings, too. Even as she carried all of her shopping bags at once so that she didn’t have to risk a second trip to the car, Grace’s eyes were darting around. She’d learned to trust her gut, no matter what. If she felt like she was being watched, it usually meant somebody was watching.

It was a Saturday evening, still early enough that the sun was out. The parking lot was more empty than not, a handful of cars scattered around the space. She weaved around them, searching for the sleek, shiny black finish of Tommy’s luxury Jaguar. As ostentatious as it was expensive, she’d never seen him drive around in any other car. If he was close by, she would spot him first.

Considering the speed of the car, the head’s up would never be enough of a warning, but she refused to think like that. Her caution and her care had kept her one step ahead of Tommy Mathers for seven months now.

At the last lot, Grace held her breath and turned the corner. She exhaled in relief when no one was waiting for her. Hefting her bags high, she stepped up on the curb and turned toward the front of the apartments.

Strawberry Village was made up of eighteen different apartment buildings. Each structure was eight floors high, with three apartments on each floor. She lived in the last building, on the sixth floor. In order to get inside, a tenant needed a passcode to enter the front door to each individual building, use the same passcode to operate the elevator (or take the stairs), and then use a key to open a specific apartment. That first step was what had her taking the two-room apartment. It would make it that much harder for Tommy to find his way in.

Her nerves were already stretched thin. It had been more than four days since he last messaged her and she was too used to his volatile mood swings to hope that he’d finally given up on her. Usually, when Tommy went silent, it was because he was focused on another one of his plans.

Glancing behind her, assuring herself that he wasn’t lurking just out of her sight, Grace fervently wished that, whatever was occupying Tommy, it had nothing to do with her.

“Grace!”

Her head whipped around at the sound of her name. She was already po

ised to flee and only just stopped herself when she saw one of her neighbors waiting inside the small vestibule that led into their apartment complex. A welcoming smile on her lovely face, Tessa De Angelis held the door open for her.

De Angelis. Grace knew enough Italian to guess that meant “of angels”. Even though it was the woman’s married name, she thought it suited her. Tessa was petite and kind, with a set of innocent eyes that seemed more golden than hazel. She perpetually wore an inviting smile and always stopped for a chat whenever they met in the hall.

Stumbling under the weight of her groceries, her heart settling back into a normal rhythm after her scare, Grace hurried toward the open door.

Tessa was harmless. She was safe.

She greeted the other woman with a bob of her head. “Tessa, hi. Thanks for holding the door for me. Appreciate it.”

“Need some help with your bags?”

Ice skittered down her spine at the deep voice with the clipped tone. Jumpy as ever, it was all she could do not to react.

She didn’t see him standing there in the shadows of the vestibule. Silly. She should’ve known better by now. Lucas was never too far from his lovely bride.

It was an automatic reaction. Gripping the handles of her grocery bags tightly, she moved them closer in case he tried to take them. Her lips pressed together; she hoped it passed for a grin. “Thank you, Lucas, but I’m fine.”

Tessa De Angelis was harmless. She was safe. Lucas… was not.

Every time she ran into her sixth floor neighbor, her heart sped up, her pulse like a jackhammer. And it wasn’t just that the man was gorgeous. He was. With olive-toned skin and coal-black hair, he was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Lucas De Angelis didn’t flaunt it, though, didn’t use it, and he was so obviously devoted to his wife that—even with her own troubles—Grace would never dream of making a play for him. Because, apart from being fond of Tessa, Grace was just a little bit afraid of her husband.

She could see it in his eyes. Pale blue, as cold as ice, there was something there. A determination, and a darkness, like he would do whatever he had to, no matter the cost, in order to get whatever he wanted.

Grace shivered.

Tommy had that look, too.