Goose bumps tingled over Nadia Shelton’s arms and neck as she exited her apartment building. She scanned the morning commuters looking for signs of someone watching her. And like every previous morning, all she saw were fellow New Yorkers hustling along the sidewalk, somewhat faster this morning than the morning before, as the gray clouds overhead pelted them with rain.
Nadia pulled her purse and briefcase closer to her body, hoping to shield them from the worst of the rain, and tightened her grip on her umbrella. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention as she entered the flow of bodies on the sidewalk. There was no time for paranoia. She was already ten minutes late getting to work. Granted, that was not typically a huge deal since she was her own boss, but this morning she had a meeting she did not want to be late for.
Should have thought of that while you were primping for a certain security specialist with sexy hazel eyes.
Nadia caught a glimpse of herself in the large front window of the corner bodega. She slowed and examined her reflection as she passed by. Her plum-colored sheath accentuated the curve of her hips and popped vibrantly against her dark skin. The dress showed just a hint of her ample cleavage—sexy, but still work-appropriate. The off-white trench coat she’d slid into on her way out the door completed the look. She’d dressed to feel good about herself, and looking into the storefront window, she felt as if she’d succeeded.
Goodness knows she deserved some happiness. The last several months had been the most trying of her life.
She took a step away from the window, then jerked to a stop once again when the reflection of a man on the other side of the street caught her eye. He huddled under the awning of a bookstore, its interior lights still darkened.
Nadia strained to make out his features, but the window distorted his image, even as scores of people hurried by, making it even more difficult to get a clear view. She mentally noted the dark hoodie, navy jeans and black work boots before starting down the sidewalk again, her heart rate picking up its pace.
She shot a glance over her shoulder, but the man had moved from the doorway.
You’re being paranoid. He was probably just taking a reprieve from the rain.
There was absolutely no reason for anyone to be watching her, and any other day, she probably wouldn’t have even noticed the man. But this hadn’t been the only odd occurrence lately. An image jumped into her head. Born and raised in New York, she’d seen her fair share of rats, even dead ones, but never mangled so horribly.
She shook her head to clear the memory of the rat from her mind. Her neighbor’s cat had most likely left that little gift for her—it couldn’t be anything more sinister than that.
And her keyed car and the late-night hang-ups? Was the cat behind those things too?
Stop.
It wasn’t as if the garage she parked her rarely used car in was Fort Knox. Teenagers had probably keyed the car. And the hang-ups could be teenagers too. Or telemarketers. Or simply a wrong number. Repeated every night for the last two weeks?
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