Deeper Than the Grave Read Free

footsteps?”

Chapter Three
    â€œWhat?”
    He cocked his head. “Footsteps. In the alley. There shouldn’t be anyone back there this time of night.”
    I listened, but all I heard was the buzz of overheads. Our breathing, suddenly quickened. “I don’t hear anything.”
    He pulled out of my arms. “I’ll go take a look.”
    â€œTrey—”
    He slipped his gun from the holster. “Stay here.”
    I recognized the tone. It always happened so fast, the shift from boyfriend to bodyguard. I felt the chill, involuntary, a flash of memory. Not all stalkers stopped with stalking. Some shot at you from across great distances, the crosshairs trained on the back of the skull, or the T-zone between your eyes, or the bull’s-eye where your heart and lungs pumped….
    I grabbed his elbow. “Don’t go out there.”
    â€œTai—”
    â€œI’m serious. Call 911.”
    â€œI have to check.”
    â€œTrey!”
    He slipped backward into the hall, then slammed the door behind himself so fast I didn’t have time to stop him. I snatched at the handle, but without the code, the door wasn’t budging. I kicked it once for good measure, but Trey was already out the back door and into the night.
    Cursing loudly, I shoved aside two garbage bags filled with packing peanuts and climbed on top of the display table, then stood on tiptoe and peered through the window into the lot below. The yellow haze of security lights bathed the deserted pavement, washing my red Camaro a sickly orange. The dumpster squatted directly below me, surrounded by shadows as darkly impenetrable as the mouth of the alley, which I could barely see from that vantage point.
    No sign of Trey.
    I cranked open the window and pressed my face to the opening. “Goddamn it, Trey, get back here right now and let me out of this room!”
    No answer. My lips felt numb, my hands too. I rubbed them together, but the sensation spread.
    â€œTrey!”
    Still no answer. I climbed down, but the coldness remained. I willed my heart to stop galloping, my body to stop shaking, my vision to stop collapsing, but my body wouldn’t respond. I dropped cross-legged to the floor, my back against the wall, and drew my knees to my chin.
    I did hear footsteps then, outside, leather on pavement. Trey. Finally, I heard the back door open and close. A series of beeps, and then the inner door opened and he came inside, his gun back in its holster.
    â€œWhoever was there never left the alley,” he said, “so the camera didn’t…Tai?”
    I looked up at him and tried to speak, but no words came. The shivering intensified, and my chest hurt as if I’d taken a punch.
    He knelt in front of me. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
    â€œNo, I…”
    I tried to stand, but a new wave of dizziness crashed and broke. All I could see was Trey, his face centered against a collapsing gray blur.
    â€œGive me your hands,” he said.
    I did as he said, automatically, and he squeezed my fingers, his touch firm and steady.
    â€œGood. Now breathe.”
    I tried, but the air wouldn’t go in all the way. My eyes flew open. “Omigod, I can’t…I don’t…”
    â€œBreathe on my count. In for two, out for two.”
    I drew in a shaky breath as he counted. One, two, one, two . Gradually the shaking subsided. My throat opened, my chest too. The anger rose then—at him, yes, for dashing off into the night, but mostly at myself. Suddenly I wanted to be anywhere else than on this dirty floor.
    I fought down tears, but they flowed anyway. “Damn it, I don’t know why this is happening! I’m not some panicky spaz girl!”
    â€œTai—”
    â€œThis isn’t making any sense, I’m not…I don’t…”
    And yet there I was, on the floor, in the dark—embarrassed, angry, suddenly exhausted—with my boyfriend