Caught by Emma Louise
Chapter Seven
“This one is slightly over your maximum, but really, I don’t think you’re going to get what you’re looking for with the budget you gave me.”
Standing in the tiny, dated kitchenette, I avoid looking at the property manager. I already know from her tone of voice that she pities me. This is the third apartment in this development that she’s shown me today, and despite it being more than I can afford, it’s still a dive. Everything is seriously in need of updating and although it was listed as two bedrooms, I'd be lucky to fit anything more than a bed in the small walk-in closet they’re calling a bedroom.
The apartment Cass and I live in right now is in a horrible part of town, and I’m desperate to get out, but I'm not desperate enough to lock myself into a long-term rental in a place like this. Not in an area that’s not much better than where we live now. Especially not when the monthly rent is enough to make my eyes water.
“Can I have a few days to think about it?”
“Sure. You have my number.” Grabbing Cassidy’s hand, I follow the manager outside. Once we’ve said our goodbyes, Cass and I head to my beat-up old car. It’s no wonder that woman felt bad for me. The second she saw us pull up in this heap of junk, she must have known I wasn’t going to be able to afford any of the units here.
“Hot chocolate time, Mama?” Cass asks when she’s buckled into her seat.
“Sure thing, love bug.” Pulling the car out of the space, I head toward the small coffee shop that isn't far from our apartment. I’m desperately in need of some caffeine. Hopefully, it will help beat back the headache I can feel build behind my eyes. I’ve been looking for a new apartment for weeks now, and so far it’s been a disaster. Part of the reason I’m so adamant about keeping the job at Elite is because the pay is great, it’s steady, and I hoped both of those things would make getting a new place easier. So far, luck is not on my side.
* * *
Once we arrive at the café, I find us a table near the back of the room. After getting our drinks, I set Cassidy up with her headphones and an old iPad that I picked up from Craigslist for her Christmas gift last year. It’s the most basic version and only has a couple of movies and games downloaded, but she thinks it’s the best thing ever. I wouldn’t normally allow her to have free reign with it, but I’m glad she's distracted today. I’m not sure what's wrong with me, but I feel out of sorts for some reason.
My mind flings back to my interaction with Max earlier in the week. I’ve been off kilter since then. I stupidly assumed there was nobody left in the building that night and let my mouth while on the phone with Natalie. Max scared the crap out of me, and his attitude was horrible, but he was right; I shouldn’t have spoken about him the way I did. At least I should’ve waited until I was off the clock. Not that I didn't mean the words, he really is not a nice guy, but I want this job so I have to learn to ignore him.
Easier said than done when I find him so insanely attractive. Even when I want to scratch his eyes out for being a jerk and giving me insane amounts of work to do, I still find myself daydreaming about how soft his lips look. He’s married, Darcey. Married and probably a cheater. I repeat the mantra I have to keep reminding myself all the time. Not for the first time, I let my mind wander to thoughts of what she’s like. The woman who gets to call Max hers. Nobody ever talks about her; I’ve never even heard her name mentioned. Even though I spend as little time there as possible, I haven't seen a photo of her in Max’s office. The only frame on his desk holds a picture of him in military uniform, his arm flung around a guy who could pass for Max’s twin. The other guy wears a leather vest that has the same badges as the MC club from the place I first met Max. I assume it’s his brother.
“Do I gots a mustache, Mama?” Also not for the first time this week, my daughter’s soft giggle pulls me out of another Max Arden inspired daydream. Looking at her, I see she has whipped cream and melted marshmallows all over her top lip.
“Here, let me get you cleaned up.” I smile at her as I pull a wipe from my bag and lean over the table to clean her up. Even though it’s a waste of time because she’ll be a mess again in a few seconds.
“Carrie?” a deep voice asks from close behind me. It doesn’t occur to me that he’s talking to me, so I don’t pay him any attention. “Don’t ignore me, you little bitch,” the voice growls unexpectedly close to my ear, causing my heart to jump into my throat. A rough hand hits the bare skin of my arm and pulls me around. I’m too shocked to process what’s happening, let alone work out who the hell this is. Fear has taken a tight grip on my senses, rendering me immobile. My heart beats double time in my chest as memories from my past rush through my mind, confusing my senses.
“I knew it was you. I'd recognize that ass anywhere,” the stranger sneers, leaning in to snarl in my face. “You cost me my marriage.” Spittle flies from the edge of his lips as he grinds the words out. I stare up into the hard, dark eyes glaring down at me. That’s when my brain finally decides to catch up with what’s happening, and anger takes over the fear.
For the longest time I worried about this. About someone I’d tried to trap seeing me out on the street somewhere. They’d see me in the grocery store and cause a scene. As time went on and it never happened, that fear waned. Looks like I shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable. This guy is one of the very few I was successful at trapping, and from what he’s saying, I guess his wife used what I gave her as evidence to divorce his sorry ass.
“Take your hand off me,” I warn him, not raising my voice. Cass has her headphones on, and her attention is trained on the game she’s playing. I need her to stay distracted. I don’t want her to notice what’s going on.
“Do you have any idea what you cost me? Thanks to you—”
“Thanks to me, your wife got what she deserved in the settlement, I hope.” I cut him off, done with this conversation, done with him thinking he can get away with blaming me for his own actions. “Now take your hand off me. I won’t ask you again.” He doesn’t listen, making the mistake of tightening his grip instead. I don’t warn him again; I twist my arm instead. The move catches him off guard, and he makes yet another mistake by looking down instead of keeping his eyes on me. Taking advantage of the situation, I raise a booted foot and bring the heel down on his foot. Hard. He lets out a startled yelp before finally taking a step back out of my space. Heads start to pop up around the room, wondering what the commotion is all about. Regaining his lost composure, he takes a step toward me once again. I refuse to cower, to step back, even if my instincts are telling me to grab Cassidy and run.
“Is everything okay here?” Sweet relief fills me when the barista approaches, eyeing the guy who’s now glaring at me, nostrils flared in anger.
“This man won’t leave me alone,” I say, shocking myself with how the words sound.
“Do I need to call the cops, or are you going to leave on your own?” the barista asks, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing my would-be attacker. For a split second, I think he isn't going to back down. His hard eyes bore into me as I stand there, frozen in place. He eventually turns, looking the younger guy up and down. He can’t be more than eighteen, but he’s tall and broad. I assume he decides it isn't worth the risk when he takes a small step back from me.
“This isn’t over. You owe me,” he snarls darkly before he turns and stalks out of the café, leaving me feeling like there isn't enough air left in the room. The feeling of a hand landing on my arm shocks me, causing me to jump. The adrenaline pumping through my veins has me too on edge. I need to get out of here.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The Barista eyes me warily, as if he isn't sure if I’m about to break down or something. “Can I call someone for you?” he offers quietly.
Words are not an option for me right now. I think I'd choke if I actually tried to say anything out loud. The adrenaline rush that just got me through the last few minutes is rapidly declining. Instead, I shake my head and gather our things. I need to leave. I need to get my daughter out of here.
“At least let me walk you to your car,” he offers, reminding me that I’m not safe yet. That lunatic could be waiting for me outside. Shit. He could be waiting for me to leave. He could be planning to follow me. Fear latches onto me, its icy grip squeezing tightly.
For the first time in years, I feel helpless. I’m scared, and I’ve just been reminded how utterly alone I am in the world.
* * *
“Mama, who was that nasty man?” Cassidy’s voice asks timidly. So much for her being engrossed in her iPad.
“Nobody, love bug. He was nobody important.”
“I didn’t like him,” she whispers, and I’m surprised I can even hear it over the pounding of my heart. I should’ve known there was something wrong with her when she was so quiet as I strapped her into her car seat. “Will he come back and hurt you again?” Her words cause tears to prickle at the edges of my eyes.
“No, sweetie, he won’t come back.” I tell her something I can’t actually be all that sure of. I’ve been driving us around randomly since we left the coffee shop. I’m quite sure that he hasn’t followed us, but I’m not confident enough to actually drive home just in case. “How about we go to the park for a while?” I suggest, hoping it will take her mind off the mess she just witnessed. The lack of an excited response from Cass has me glancing in my rearview mirror. Wide eyes stare back at me for a beat before they drop down to her lap. Guilt swirls through me, creating a toxic cocktail with the lingering fear from earlier. Seeing my usually rambunctious five-year-old looking like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders shifts that fear into something uglier, something far darker. It changes to a raging ball of anger that threatens to engulf me.
“O’tay, Mama,” she finally whispers, and the wobble I hear in her voice is like gasoline to my already fragile emotions. The rest of the drive is silent, even the pop music playing on the radio is too much for my over anxious mind to deal with. Pulling the car into a space near the gates to Cassidy’s favorite park, I climb out of the car feeling all kinds of exhausted. I’m happy to see the parking lot is almost full; hopefully that means there will be lots of families here because I need the security of a crowd right now.
Finding an empty bench, I watch as Cass lingers at the edge of the playground. She hesitates at the gate, looking back over her shoulder. She’s making sure I’m still here, still close by. She’s rattled, scared after what happened earlier; we both are. Pasting a bright, fake smile on my face, I give her a cheerful wave and a quick thumbs-up, hoping that’s enough for her to believe that everything is okay. She glances at the kids playing once more, then turns back toward me. Indecision wars on her baby-like face. I’m on my feet and moving toward her in a heartbeat. I shouldn’t have brought her here. I should have taken her home and locked the rest of the world out for the rest of the day. I should’ve kept her safe.
I feel the presence approaching behind me immediately. A flicker of movement in the corner of my eye, the heavy energy that’s rapidly approaching. Instinct kicks in as the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Protect Cassidy.
If I pick up my pace and run toward her now, he’ll follow. I need to find a way to incapacitate him long enough for us to be able to run to the car.
I have to battle with myself to keep calm enough to do what has to be done. I’m running on adrenaline that’s telling me to run fast and not slow down like I am. My entire body quakes as I wait for him to strike. For the first blow to land. When it finally comes, I’m ready. The second I feel the palm of his hand touch my shoulder, I reach up to grab his thick wrist. My eyes don’t leave Cass as I call on every ounce of strength I possess. Sucking in a huge gulp of air, I put all those years of self-defense classes to use as I twist my body. Catching him off guard, I use my weight to flick the monster over so he’s laying at my feet, surprised, winded, and hopefully unable to chase me as I run toward my sobbing child.