(For His Pleasure 14) With His Belief (13 page)

“I know. I know. But it’s not that simple for me. You see, she’s kind of struggling and I—“

He reached out to touch her shoulder and she shrugged him away. She looked at him and she was filled with hate. “Do not touch me. Do not.” She was almost running now, but Bryson was so tall and rangy that he kept up with her easily.

“I can explain,” he said. “Remember the tattoo you asked me about last night?”

Something about that brought out all her pain and anger. So now he wanted to tell her all about his stupid tattoo? The thing that he’d refused to say a word about the other times she’d nicely asked him to?

“Fuck your tattoo!” she cried.

“Scarlett,” he said.

“I’m serious, Bryson. Leave me alone.” She started almost to jog, finally settling back into a walk again. He was behind her now, still walking, but slowing down.

Scarlett looked back after a minute or two and he was still behind her, walking, as if waiting for her to wear down and stop.

She couldn’t believe she’d been dumb and naïve enough to drive over there, prancing in, wanting to see him and talk to him—thinking he actually cared about her!

Eliza Johnston had spent the night. She’d been wearing his clothes. It was so obvious they’d been together.

You don’t know that.

After a while, she wondered if Bryson would finally try and catch up to her again.

She could sense him behind her, still following her.

She looked back.

It was true that she was still being followed. It was a man, but it definitely was not Bryson. Whoever it was, was wearing a ragged sweater. They had a baseball cap pulled low over their head.

Bryson was nowhere to be seen and now she realized that she was at risk.

She didn’t want to find out, and began walking more quickly.

The person was still there, when she turned around again to check. Finally, Scarlett dipped into a bookstore and made her way to an empty isle, thinking she’d lost him. She pulled out a book and pretended to read.

But then she saw the trademark baseball cap, and she knew she hadn’t evaded her stalker at all.

He turned the corner of the isle and their eyes met.

She dropped the book from her numb fingers. “Oh my God,” she said. The book hit the carpet with a muted thud.

The man took off his cap and now she knew for sure who it was—even as he spoke for the first time.

She couldn’t take her eyes from the man’s face. She’d never expected to see him again. Never in a million years. And yet here he was, and he’d somehow tracked her down.

“I have something I need to tell you,” he began.