Blind Date

Gosh.

  This is getting weird. Anyone would think it’s a competition between the two men, but that isn’t the case, since Ace barely likes me.

  “I’m sorry, I wish I could tell you more but I can’t,” I say to Jacob.

  “You should have called and told me something was wrong.”

  I give him a “whoopsie” expression, and chew on my bottom lip for a moment before answering with, “Sorry. I’ve just been really stressed.”

  What a terrible, terrible answer.

  Even I wouldn’t believe it.

  It sounds like I’m palming him off. Hell, maybe I am.

  I don’t know.

  “I understand,” he sighs, eyes flicking to Ace again before coming back to me. “Please at least keep me updated. I’m worried.”

  I nod. “Of course, thanks for checking in on me.”

  He leans down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I have to get to work. Call me later, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He gives Ace one more look, then disappears out the door. I turn, and Ace is already opening his mouth. I put up one finger and mutter, “Don’t even start.”

  He closes his mouth.

  Smart man.

  FIFTEEN

  Stretching, I walk out of the hospital where I just did an eight-hour training shift with some senior midwives. I’m exhausted, after such a short time, and I know it’ll take years to build up the stamina some of those older ladies have. It’s incredible how they can work around the clock, on their feet all day, using their hands constantly. I take my hat off to them, it can’t be easy.

  I walk out the front doors and turn left, making my way towards the parking lot a few blocks down where I’m parked. I don’t use my old car a great deal, because I’m so close to everything and finding a parking spot can be difficult at times, but Ace prefers me to drive instead of using public transportation at this time so I agreed. I’m looking forward to going home and getting a good night’s sleep. I haven’t slept for the past week and even though Ace has put new locks on, and I’ve had no more strange occurrences since, I still don’t feel at ease. I still find it hard to settle in at night.

  Ace thinks it’s a good sign nothing more has happened since the locks have been changed, but I still don’t feel right. I always feel as though someone is watching me. Jacob told me I’m imagining it, and that it’s probably just leftover paranoia from the scare I had, but I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s more than that. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to rationalize it in my head, I don’t feel any better.

  It’s been raining again tonight, and the sidewalk is slippery as I walk down towards the parking lot. I reach it and am just moving around to the driver’s door of my car when I step in something that looks a little like oil. I slip right away, hands going out to try to stop myself. I miss and come crashing down onto the hard ground, my ankle twisting angrily beneath me.

  I cry out as a sharp pain shoots up my leg.

  Dammit.

  That was bad.

  Wincing, I roll to my butt and look down at my ankle. It’s throbbing already, and I can see the swelling rising. That was a good twist, good enough that my stomach twists too as the pain starts getting more intense with every passing second. I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from crying and try to move my ankle, to see if I can stand. Sharp pain hits me hard, and I know I can’t stand on it.

  Honestly. Why?

  I reach into my purse, which is now soaked from having landed on the ground, and I pull out my phone, glancing down at the screen. Should I dial Jacob? Yeah, I probably should. I can’t ring the hospital and ask someone to walk two blocks to get me, that would make things even more embarrassing. Sighing, I hit his number and bring the phone to my ear, trying to stop myself from sobbing hysterically when he answers, because the pain in my foot is out of this world.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “Jacob,” I croak. “Are you still in the city by any chance?”

  “Yeah,” he answers, his voice growing concerned. “What’s the matter?”

  “I slipped over at my car, near the hospital. I don’t think I can stand up, and I don’t really want to call a staff member out to help me.”

  “Of course. I’m probably only five minutes away from the hospital. Are you okay? Where you are?”

  I wince as I try to shift so my back is pressed against the car door. “Yeah, I’m in the parking lot. Unless a mugger comes in the next five minutes, I think I’m safe.”

  I try to joke, but it’s really a pathetic attempt. Even I don’t laugh.

  “Sit tight, I’m on my way.”

  He hangs up and I glance at the screen of the phone, noticing a couple of messages I must have missed earlier. Both are from Ace. I saved his number into my phone a few days ago, and he keeps me updated as much as possible, letting me know if he finds anything, or when he questions someone.

  A: Is everything okay?

  I narrow my eyes at the message. He never asks if anything is okay. Sure, he checks in on me when he comes home from work each night, but he doesn’t send it over text, and he never calls. I wonder why he’s asking.

  H: I’m ok. I slipped outside the hospital, so I’m going to get my ankle looked at and then I’ll head home.

  My phone rings a few minutes later, Ace’s name flashing on the screen.

  “Ah, hello?” I answer, more than a little confused.

  “You okay?” Ace’s demanding voice comes across the phone speaker.

  “Yes, I just hurt my ankle.”

  “Where are you?”

  Um. Bossy.

  “In the hospital parking lot. I’m waiting for Jacob to show up and help me back into the hospital to get it looked at.”

  “How did you slip?”

  “Ace,” I say, wincing as I shift. “You’re starting to freak me out.”

  “I need to talk to you. Text me as soon as you know what’s happening, or when you’re at home. I’ll come to you.”

  My heart twists.

  That doesn’t make me feel good … at all.

  “Ace,” I say again, my voice weary. “What’s going on?”

  “Are you alone in that parking lot?”

  Suddenly I feel unsafe. My eyes scan around and thus far, I can’t see anything or anyone. My heart pounds against my ribcage, and I don’t feel okay, at all. The pain in my ankle gets seemingly worse when I think about the fact that I can’t run, even if I need to.

  “You’re scaring me,” I whisper.

  “Keep me on the phone until Jacob gets there.”

  “Ace, seriously, what’s going on?”

  “I’m not going to discuss it over the phone.”

  His voice is gruff, and straight down the line, leaving no room for argument.

  “Am I … in danger?”

  “I don’t know, but we need to talk. Is he there yet?”

  God.

  I don’t feel so good.

  “Not yet.”

  “How did you slip?”

  I glance at the oil-like substance I’m now sitting in. “I think maybe my car is leaking, or someone else’s car, there is something that resembles oil on the ground.”

  Ace goes quiet for a minute. “Is it by any other cars?”

  I wasn’t paying that much attention. I look over at the other empty parking spots, and they’re all wet from the rain, but none of them seem to have the shine coating them like the spot I’m in does. Great. Just what I need, a leaking damned car to fix.

  “No,” I finally answer Ace. “I think my car is leaking.”

  He doesn’t say anything, he just makes a strange sound in his throat.

  “Hart?”

  Jacob’s voice calls out, and I yell back, “I’m here.”

  Then I focus back on the phone. “Jacob is here now.”

  “Text me when you get into the hospital, and if they send you home, let me know.”

  My heart squeezes with dread again. “Okay Ace.”

  “Later.??
?

  He hangs up and I stare at my phone in confusion, then I lift my head just in time to see Jacob rounding my car. He takes one look at me and his face goes soft. He walks over, avoiding the spill, and squats down, glancing at my ankle. “That’s swollen, Hartley. Are you in pain?”

  I nod. “Yeah, it hurts a lot.”

  “I’m going to lift you up and take you into the hospital. Are you ready?”

  I give him a weak thumbs-up and he leans down, scoops me into his arms, and lifts me up. I circle an arm around his neck as he carefully walks me across the road and into the hospital. He strolls straight up to the reception desk, and the pretty blonde who I waved good bye to only half an hour before, looks up and her eyes widen.

  “What’s happened?” she asks.

  “I slipped and hurt my ankle. I just wanted to get it looked at,” I inform her.

  “It’s really swollen,” Jacob adds.

  “Okay, head on into the ER and I’ll call the nurses there and tell them you’re coming.”

  Jacob walks me down the halls and I point him in the direction of the ER. When we get in, we explain again what is wrong and a nurse guides us to a free bed while we wait for a doctor. By now my ankle is three times its usual size and turning an ugly shade of purple. Jacob goes in search of an ice pack, and I pull out my phone to inform Ace that I’m still here.

  H: I’ll be at the hospital a while. It’s busy tonight.

  He responds a minute later.

  A: I’ll be there soon.

  I blink. He’ll what?

  That doesn’t make me feel good. It lodges an uneasy feeling in my belly. Ace wouldn’t come here if he didn’t have good reason to, and I’m not sure I want to know what that reason is.

  At all.

  SIXTEEN

  Jacob has to leave after waiting with me for an hour. He said he has a late client, and can’t hang around even though he’d love to. I thank him for coming for me and assure him I’m fine and that I’ll call him later. Ace still hasn’t arrived, but it’s possible I’ve got another two- to three-hour wait before I get seen, considering how busy it is. Not to mention, they’ll probably do X-rays, adding to the time.

  So I get comfortable on the bed.

  I’m tired. My eyes are heavy. The ice on my ankle has numbed some of the pain, and a nurse gave me some painkillers to help get me through until a doctor can have a look at it. That combination has helped enough to stop the sharp ache, but unfortunately, it also made me drowsy. I’m slowly starting to nod off when the curtain to my bed opens, and Ace steps in.

  He looks incredible, as always, in a pair of suit pants that he has a white shirt tucked into. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons are casually undone. His hair is poking out in all different directions, in that messy hot way. He looks like a businessman. The rogue kind. The kind who will throw you over a desk and spank you with his belt.

  What the hell? It must be the meds.

  I shake my head, and raise a hand. “Hey.”

  His eyes find mine, and narrow. Intense. So intense.

  “How’s your ankle?”

  He reaches down before I get the chance to answer, and pulls the ice pack away from it, studying it. My mouth drops open when he lifts it carefully into his hands and starts inspecting it, rotating my foot slightly. His rough calloused fingers glide over my skin. I wince but don’t jerk my foot back, instead I let him continue with his inspection. When he’s satisfied, he places it back down.

  My heart is pounding.

  “It’s not broken,” he informs me. “But it is severely sprained. You’ll be off that for at least a week.”

  I blink at him. “You’re a doctor too?”

  He gives me an expression that has me close my mouth instantly. “I just know basics, and I’m telling you, it’s not broken.”

  “I’m seeing the doctor anyway.”

  “Wasn’t sayin’ you shouldn’t,” he mumbles. “Where’s Jacob?”

  “He had to leave.”

  He shakes his head in disgust, but I choose to ignore that and instead say, “Are you going to tell me why you’re here? We both know it isn’t out of genuine concern for my sore ankle.”

  He raises a brow, gives me a skeptical look, and then goes and sits down on the chair by the bed. “I’m not that much of a bastard,” he murmurs, eyes scanning briefly over my lips before moving back to my eyes.

  God.

  I feel that stare deep, deep inside. It sparks something in me. Something that has been long dormant.

  Lust.

  Great, I’m developing a little crush on the detective.

  Guilt swarms me. Poor Jacob. I like him, I really do, but I’m starting to think he just isn’t my type. I mean, he certainly doesn’t make me all hot under the collar the way Ace does. Not that there will ever be anything between Ace and me, but he has made me realize that I’m missing a certain spark with Jacob. I don’t want to hurt him. I make a mental note to speak with him later.

  “Skipping over the bastard part,” I say to Ace, getting back on track. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

  He nods, placing his elbows on his knees.

  “I could be wrong about this, so don’t freak out on me.”

  Great.

  I’m freaking out just from those words.

  “I’ve been looking over your case, really thinking about it, and it seemed familiar to me. I couldn’t put my finger on why, until someone in the station mentioned something and it clicked. It’s not my case, but we’ve all heard details about it. I don’t know why I didn’t consider it earlier. Probably because I wasn’t directly involved.”

  I swallow. “And what was that case?”

  His eyes hold mine. “The Bowtie Killer.”

  My blood runs cold.

  For a second, all I can hear is my ears ringing.

  I can’t feel anything.

  “Hartley, breathe,” Ace says, but his voice sounds garbled.

  Serial killer.

  Serial. Killer.

  No.

  No he’s wrong.

  But I think about the new reports I read on it, and all the things that they thought happened to the other girls, and it makes sense. It does, even though I don’t want to believe it. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? Probably because nobody would ever believe something like that would actually happen to them. God. I feel sick.

  “Hartley!”

  Ace’s big hand curling around my arm and shaking me a little has my eyes snapping back and focusing on his. “A-A-Are you trying to tell me you think it’s the Bowtie Killer, and I’m his next … victim?”

  Ace’s face tightens. “I’m saying it’s similar. The last girl had a very similar experience from what I can gather. She had lost a loved one, and things were showing up. She was tormented for months before he finally took her. We’re still not sure what happens when he actually takes them, whether he continues to torment, but it is all very familiar to what’s happening with you.”

  No.

  I’m going to be sick.

  “I think I’m going to throw up,” I groan, clutching my stomach.

  “You’re not going to throw up. Breathe, Hartley.”

  I take a staggering breath, sweat breaks out across my forehead, and my mind is spinning. This can’t be happening. He must have it wrong. It’s just similar. It isn’t the same. No. No. It isn’t the same.

  “Listen to me,” Ace says, reaching up and taking my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “I could be wrong, but if I’m not, you’re in the best hands. Nobody knew a thing with the other victims—he tormented them for months and nobody figured it out. We’re aware of it with you. That means it’s entirely different.”

  “How?” I croak.

  “Because we can protect you.”

  “Nobody can be with someone twenty-four seven,” I say, my voice high-pitched and worried.

  “Hartley, we have many ways of protecting someone. If we’re right, we’ll ens
ure your safety.”

  That doesn’t make me feel better.

  “W-W-Why me?”

  Ace studies me. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, you need to calm down for me, okay?”

  “Is he going to t-t-take me?” I croak, and then clutch my chest.

  Ace’s eyes hold mine firmly. “Not with me around, he isn’t.”

  Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?

  * * *

  “I’ve threatened the landlord with legal action if the security isn’t fully updated in the apartment building. He has agreed, and some new systems should be up and running within a few days,” Ace says, arm wrapped around my waist as he helps me towards my front door.

  My ankle is wrapped and the doctor gave me a prescription for some good painkillers. Ace was right, it isn’t broken, just badly sprained.

  “I still don’t really feel safe,” I whisper, my body numb from exhaustion and fear.

  “I’ve also put a watch on the building—when I’m not there, someone will be outside. Until we can find out for sure what’s going on, I’ve got the highest security. We’ll keep you safe, Hartley.”

  I don’t know that I believe him.

  “Fuck.”

  I blink at the random curse, and then my eyes swing up to Ace, but he’s looking ahead of us. I follow his line of sight, to where he’s looking, and see a massive bouquet of flowers sitting by my front door. My heart starts hammering against my rib cage, because outside of Ace and Jacob, who knew I was at the hospital?

  Maybe they’re from Jacob.

  Yes. Yes. That makes sense.

  “They’re probably from Jacob,” I say, but my voice is strained with anxiety.

  “Probably,” Ace says. “But I need to check first.”

  He slides his arm from around my waist and carefully presses my back against the wall before letting me go. “Stand here. Better for me to check them and make sure they’re safe. It’s probably nothing. I just have to be sure.”

  My heart feels as though it’s sitting in my throat the entire time as I watch Ace move towards the flowers sitting outside my apartment in the hall, resting against the door. He kneels down, tilting his head and pressing his ear close. Is he … is he listening for a bomb? My knees start shaking, and I press a hand to my chest, trying to calm myself down. For a few minutes, Ace sits like that, and then he finally lifts his head back up and carefully scans the flowers.