Page 29 of Ruthless Salvation

“Just out of curiosity, was he in the building when you saw him?”

Ralph’s eyes narrowed with the dawning suspicion that this man might not actually have been my friend. “Yeah, he was headed out the front door when I came down the stairs. I didn’t want to call after him and wake anyone up.”

What the heck was Torin doing in my building? How did he even get in?

“Wait, why were you wanting to know if he’d seen the panel?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “Did he talk to you about it?”

A fleeting sneer tugged at his upper lip. “Yeah, he has a real way with words, that one.” Ralph’s right hand clasped his left elbow as though implying Torin had gotten rough with him.

Holy crap! Had Torin threatened Ralph on my behalf?

Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe he knew someone else in the building.

Seriously, Storm? You think he’s stalking two of you in the same building?

“He’s an intense kind of guy.” I gave him an awkward smile. “I left the oven on, so I’d better get back upstairs.” I hurriedly unlocked my mailbox, grabbed its contents, and waved my goodbye.

What the heck was I supposed to think about this new information? Every time I turned around, Torin was looking out for me—at the fight, with customers, and now with my super—but he did it in the most unconventional, overbearing sort of way. What if his protective gestures turned possessive? I knew all too well how these things could morph before your eyes.

I stood inside my apartment, the closed door at my back, and wondered why Torin had been in the building this morning. Why had he come back?

Sorting through the handful of envelopes, I found nothing that looked out of the ordinary. He hadn’t dropped off a note in my box. Nothing had been slipped under the door, and the lock showed no signs of a break-in. What had he been up to?

Taking in a slow sweep of the room, I looked at my surroundings with fresh eyes. Could Torin have possibly been inside my apartment while I was sleeping? Nothing looked amiss. I took a slow sweep of my apartment, and that was when something caught my attention. I wasn’t sure I’d have noticed if I hadn’t been across the room. It was the sort of thing that was easier to see at a distance than up close.

Torin’s name was spelled out on my fridge. It wasn’t super obvious. The magnet letters weren’t close together, but they were all right side up. I knew they hadn’t been that way because I’d intentionally moved them before Micky’s last visit. I’d had no desire to explain to her why I had our boss’s name on my fridge.

This was no coincidence. He’d been here—in my personal space—while I’d been asleep and unprotected.

Yeah, but did he do anything truly bad?

If I could have slapped my inner optimist, I would have. Was I supposed to wait until hediddo something unhinged before I cut ties? And had I totally forgotten the fact that he was myboss?

Come on, Stormy. You’re smarter than that.

New York was a big city. What if I got a new job but moved so he couldn’t find me? That way, I could keep my friends and still protect myself.

The idea had merit. After all, there was no reason to assume he’d try to track me down. A girl couldn’t end up with two psychotic stalkers at once, right? What were the chances?

I wasn’t interested in finding out.

The question was, did I relocate within Manhattan, or was it truly necessary to leave the state. My logical and emotional sides were at war over the answer.

* * *

I rodemy mental hamster wheel until I was dizzy and resorted to binge-watching reruns ofThe Big Bang Theory. The simplicity of the show was cathartic. By the time I had to show up at work, I’d summoned a cloak of cool resolve to keep myself safe by whatever means. End of story.

I was pleasant yet professional to Torin. I didn’t want to set him off before I’d had a chance to make my move, but I also wanted to ensure I didn’t send mixed signals.

Judging by the glares coming from his direction, he sensed the change in me and wasn’t thrilled about it. Halfway through the night, he tugged me into the supply closet and closed the door. He’d been so stealth in his actions that I never had a chance to protest.

“What’s going on?” I stared at him with wide eyes, unsure if I should be worried.

Tor set his hands on his hips and studied me. “What’s with the attitude?”

Something inside me snapped.

How dare he shoot accusations my way when he knew darn well what he’d been doing in his spare time? What gave men the right to think they could do whatever the heck they wanted without consequence?