Conceal

My eyes close as the pounding in my heart intensifies.

“Breathe.” I hear. “Relax.”

It’s Shay talking, and her voice helps calm me.

My eyes flutter open. I know he’s not here. He hasn’t found me. And no one can hurt me.

I move to the position that Shay taught me last week with my legs hip-width apart. My arms and hands in position.

Beau moves in.

“Are you ready?” I nod.

“You attack,” Shay says, and I do.

Punch. It’s like a dance. I punch; he blocks. It’s different from when practicing on Shay. The height and the speed. I know this is what I need, but the fear of how real this feels is too much for me to handle. My breathing is becoming labored.

I’m not sure if I need to fight that I’ll be able to. I can only hope that I’ll be able to find out the information I need to catch him before he finds me, but this will help.

We continue to spar, and then we change it up. I’m on the defensive now. I’m the mouse.

I don’t like the feeling. It reminds me of running all over again.

I hate that I wasn’t strong enough back then to face what I heard and stand my ground.

But next time, I will be.

After a few more blocks and hits, my body aches. I throw my hands up in the air.

“I can’t,” I murmur. “He’s too strong.”

“Even if he’s stronger, that doesn’t mean he can hurt you. Your strength is your will,” Shay says. “Even if you are on your last breath, you are not down. You fight.”

“I can’t.” Tears sting my eyes. “I can’t.”

“Is there someone you can bring with you that you trust?”

I slump forward, and Beau steps back, giving me time to calm my frazzled nerves. I fight the nauseous feeling churning in my stomach.

No.

That’s the problem.

Chapter Fifteen

Willow

Every day since I’ve started my self-defense class, I have been pushing myself to feel comfortable again. One thing I’ve been forcing myself to do is walk around the city.

Sure, I’m still dressed in baggie clothes, and my hair is still dark, but at least I’m trying.

Baby steps.

I’m walking down the street on the way home from one of my attempts to find my strength, when I look up at the sign to see where I am. The address looks familiar, but I’m not sure why. It reminds me of the address where I sent Jaxson his money. I wonder if his office is close to here.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the card he gave me a few weeks ago. I should thank him. What he did for me the other day, he didn’t have to.

At first, I thought he had ulterior motives. But he didn’t even ask for my number at the end of the night. I didn’t ask for his either, but I guess I have it on the business card he gave me.

At the corner of the street, I see the familiar cupcake station. I know he loves sweets. He said as much that night at the fundraiser.

Nodding, I cross and then head inside. I order and then check the address one more time. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Maybe I should leave well enough alone. But something makes my feet move toward his office. Before long, I’m standing in front of the oppressive building, and with reluctance, I walk in.

Any air that is in my body leaves as I step into the lobby. If I thought it was oppressive from the outside, the inside is even worse. Security is everywhere, and cameras riddle the ceiling. These are the things I notice. There is no way I’m getting upstairs without showing identification, but that’s something I can’t do.

Shit.

I hadn’t thought this through.

I don’t know what to do.

You can do this.

“Excuse me, miss. Is there something I can help you with?” With my head still down, I turn to the security guard. Even from my vantage point, I can see that he’s looking right at me and I feel like a deer stuck in headlights.

I’m not sure how I should respond, so I hold the box up as if that’s the answer, as if the box full of cupcakes will talk. My eyes might still be downcast, but his head bobs down as if he looks down at what I’m holding and then it moves back up. Even though I refuse to make eye contact with him, I can hear him tap his foot impatiently and I know he wants me to explain.

“I’m dropping this off.”

He nods, his chin pointing down to the box. “Who would you like to leave the box for, miss?”

I have to answer because if I wasn’t suspicious enough, I’m very suspicious now. The level of security in this place would make the White House envious, so I’m sure red flags have gone up and a SWAT team will walk in soon.