What the . . .? Oh God. OhGodohGod, the rhythm of his pulse echoed back to him. First the fruit basket, then the tickets, and now this? Could they all be related? Was he actually being stalked? Don’t get ahead of yourself. Ducking down, he pretended he needed something from his backpack hanging on the back of the chair. As soon as he unzipped his bag and stuck his hand in, he grabbed the first thing he found.
The note from Tierney about how to set the condo alarm.
In Tierney’s handwriting. Which was just as scribbly and jagged as Dalton had thought his handwriting should be.
But the note this morning was signed with a “T.”
So?
The pulse pounding in his head had to be loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear. Fingers tingling with creeping numbness, he fished out his phone, keeping his chin tucked low and refusing to glance up. He turned fully sideways in the chair, hunching over.
I must look like a freak.
Whatever. He pulled up Tierney’s name and texted him.
Did you want to meet for lunch?
It took a minute before Tierney texted back. Yes, totally. I really need to talk to you. Where and when?
Dalton’s heart took off like a scared rabbit. He hit Tierney’s name on contacts, and even the ring of Tierney’s phone in his ear sounded like it was shaking with adrenaline.
“Dalton?”
“I’m at Murray’s Bistro.”
“Okay, tell me where it is, and I’ll be there as soon as I can—”
Of course. Of course he wouldn’t even know that’s where Dalton and Sam met, because Dalton had never told him.
“—I need to tell you about stuff.” Tierney swallowed, then went on. “I fucked up, coming over yesterday and saying we couldn’t see each other, I mean, I talked to my Dunthorpe therapist and he said—”
“Tierney.” He wanted to hear this, but he had more pressing concerns at the moment. “I got a note to meet you here so we could talk, at least I thought it was you, but it’s not you, it’s one of the bashers,” Dalton rushed out. “I think. I think he’s here to meet me.” Risking a glance up, he nearly fell out of the chair with relief when he realized he was hidden from the basher’s sight by a palm frond. He just needed to huddle here, and he was golden.
“Get out of there,” Tierney nearly yelled in his ear.
“He’s between me and the door.” It would be hard for the guy to miss seeing him walk across the bistro, and he didn’t want to take the chance of not being missed.
Tierney made a strangling noise. “Can he see you now?”
“No, I’m hiding.” Leaning over slightly, he peeked past the palm frond, and the shock of recognition hit him again, like a glass of water in the face. “It’s really him. I’m certain.” OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGod.
Tierney groaned in his ear. “Please, just call 911. I’ll be there as soon as I can. And stay hidden.”
“I will.”
“Be careful,” Tierney said, voice shaking. “If you get offed before we have a chance to get back together, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“I will,” Dalton promised, and in spite of the potential danger, hope infused his chest again, making it feel floaty.
But then Tierney hung up, and hope took a backseat to fear.
The 911 dispatcher didn’t seem to find the situation as urgent as Dalton did. He could hear it in her monotonous tone and the way she phrased her questions; as if she were reading them off a card labeled “Checklist for Potential Stalking Victims.” She’d assured him a unit was responding, but Dalton was certain the officer coming was obeying all the traffic laws, and possibly stopping for a Big Gulp on the way. He wanted one of those cops who came screaming the wrong direction down the street, with lights whirling and sirens wailing. Luke may bitch about callers insisting things were an emergency and they needed a code three approach when they patently didn’t, but right now Dalton would happily be one of the annoying crazies.
“Do you currently have a restraining order against the person of interest?” the dispatcher droned.
“No, but he’s been instructed by a judge not to come within fifteen hundred feet of me.” Maybe that would make her send the cops faster.
What it did was make her pause. He could all but hear puzzled interest in her silence.
“Um, I’m a witness in an assault case, and the judge who let him out on bail said he had to stay away from the victims and the witnesses.”
“Okay,” she said, in a much livelier voice. “You said you’re in public, lots of people around?”
“Yes.”
“And do you have any reason to believe this man is a physical threat to you?”
“Well, I did watch him beat up a gay guy for being gay, and I’m gay, so . . .”
“Please, stay on the line, sir, I’ll be right with you.” Dead air filled his ear for a few moments, then she was back. “The officer responding advises he’s ten minutes from your location. You need to just sit tight and stay in a well-populated area. Have you told any of the staff what’s going on?”
“No.” He hadn’t had a chance. His waiter had come close to the table a few moments ago, but then swerved away before Dalton could catch his eye.
As he answered the rest of her questions, he began to feel more secure. Safer. Tierney was on his way and so were the cops and he was in a public place. He unkinked his spine, sitting forward in his chair. Glancing quickly, he checked on his stalker.
OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGodohGod. “He’s gone. The guy’s not sitting where he was anymore.”
Chimes were the only response he got. Familiar-sounding ones . . . the ones that told him his phone was shutting down due to a dying battery.
Fuck. He glared at the thing, wishing he could recharge it with brain waves, but then someone sat down across from him, and Dalton didn’t even have to lift his head to know who it was. All the blood in his body rushed toward his belly, pooling there and causing a panic. OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGodohGod. Swallowing, he looked up and met the guy’s eyes.
He’d known it was one of the bashers, but he still flinched when he recognized that face again.
“Hi there.” The dude tipped his head in a weirdly friendly gesture of acknowledgment. “We haven’t been, you know, properly introduced. Name’s Robert.” He held his hand across the table.
Dalton stared at it. Did one shake hands with someone who’d assaulted one’s friend? He didn’t think so.