Last night had stirred up all kinds of conflicting feelings for Melanie. The dust would settle soon, law enforcement would find Sprigs and she’d be able to get back to her normal routine. She’d been thinking a lot about Dawson’s idea and she couldn’t let him give up his dreams so easily.
Facing facts, she needed his help and she understood that a man like Dawson would see it as his duty to contribute both financially and as a hands-on father. She could live with that and, bottom line, the help would be welcomed. As it was, she and Mason lived paycheck-topaycheck. Without her parents’ occasional monetary gift, she wouldn’t stay afloat.
Shooting down help would be stupid and selfish. The money would help Mason. What mother didn’t want to give her child every possible advantage?
Traffic was heavier than usual on her drive to work, which gave her plenty of time to think about the ways in which she would be comfortable allowing Dawson to contribute. She would most likely still keep her Thursday through Saturday night shifts at the Phoenix Bar. It was only three nights a week and she made good money. Besides, her boss wouldn’t let her cut her days back anymore. She already had the best shifts and there’d been grumbling from some of the waitresses with more seniority.
Also, Mason would enter preschool in another year and a half and then she could work more traditional hours in an office setting with paid insurance. Nothing had to drastically change now that Dawson was in their life. If he contributed financially, she’d be able to give their son some extras that she hadn’t been able to so far. She’d be able to afford to do more things with him on her days off, like take him to the zoo.
Mason loved animals, and she planned to get her son a puppy some day when she could afford to get a little house with a backyard.
Her typical twenty-minute commute had turned into forty-five. She was relieved when she finally arrived and could slip into her role serving drinks rather than spend any more time getting inside her head about recent events. Besides, the music was far too loud inside the bar to think clearly anyway.
It was usually all too easy to block out the world, getting lost in the rush of shuffling drinks. Except, tonight, Melanie’s thoughts kept bouncing back to Dawson and that kiss from last night.
The evening wasn’t off to a good start, but by midnight it was elbow-to-elbow and she’d broken a sweat. Those were always good tip nights.
Another hour and a half flew by and, thankfully, it was getting close to quitting time. The crowd was in full swing, a typical Thursday night, which often turned out to be more lucrative than the weekends.
Melanie grabbed her order, a pair of Heinekens for the guys at table three, when the lights blinked, the music blared, and on top of it came a piercing sound.
The fire alarm.
Her heart raced. Everyone had to get out. As Melanie pushed through the crowd making their way to the exits, she felt a hand on her arm.
Her blood chilled.
No way.
It couldn’t be him. Could it?
She wheeled around, preparing to face down the man who she’d tried to avoid for years, whose name brought fear descending around her...who seemed determined to stalk her.
The pressure on her arm eased before she could get a good look at who was behind her. Her heart pounded. Was he there? Was Jordan Sprigs somewhere in the crowd?
Melanie pulled her cell from her front pocket and clamped her fingers around it.
As she moved with the crowd, she pressed Dawson’s name on her contacts. The air inside the bar felt as if it had thinned and her chest squeezed from panic.
At least there were plenty of people around. She should be fine if she stayed with the crowd.
“Hello?” Dawson’s sleepy voice slid through her, calming her. “What’s going on? I hear sirens.”
“Fire alarm went off, so we’re literally being pushed out of the building by the crowd.”
“Get in your car and drive home now.” Dawson’s voice was too calm, and that was exactly how she knew just how concerned he truly was.
“I can’t. My purse is locked in my manager’s office.”
“Find him. Have him unlock the door and turn over your belongings.”
“There’s no way,” she said. “There are dozens of people jammed in the parking lot.”
“Stay near the front door, then,” he said. “When we hang up, I want you to call a cab. We can go back for your stuff tomorrow.”
“Okay. I’m with a huge crowd of people and I’m right in the middle of them.” She didn’t share the part where she believed Sprigs had had his hand on her arm. There was nothing Dawson could do from her apartment, she realized, and it probably wasn’t him anyway.
“I hear the sirens in the background. Fire department?” he asked.
“Yes. I see the trucks.”
“On second thought, stay on the line with me.”
“Okay.” She talked to him for a few minutes. By the time the firemen cleared the building, which they did remarkably fast, it was past closing time.
“Keep me on the line as you get your purse,” Dawson insisted.
“I need to close out first. I’ll call you back as soon as I walk out to my car.” Melanie tucked her phone in her apron as she followed her fellow employees inside to finish up work and retrieve her bag.
She scanned the parking lot, searching the faces for Sprigs. Then again, he could’ve sent someone. Any one of them could be working for him.
Her manager, Joel, stood at the open office door. The lights were back on, the room bright, and the crowd was beginning to thin outside.
Once she was safely inside her sedan, she would breathe easier.
Melanie quickly counted her tips and then tipped out the bartender and the busboy who’d worked her station.
“I have babysitter issues and need to get home,” she said to Joel. “Will you watch and make sure I make it to my car?”
“Sure thing.” Joel pushed back from his computer. He was in his late thirties, had a daughter in kindergarten and saw it as his personal responsibility to make sure those who worked for him made it home safely every night. “How’s the lot?”
“Looks like it’s emptying out,” she said.
Occasionally, one of their customers thought it would be a good idea to hang around and wait for one of the waitresses. There was no shortage of attractive women working, and some men mistook friendly service for something else entirely.
Joel stood at the front of the building, arms folded, as Melanie crossed the lot. She knew to park under a light and felt safer knowing her manager kept watch as she navigated to her vehicle.
There were pairs of people dotted around the lot, standing next to cars. Melanie’s nerves hummed as she quickened her pace. She’d call Dawson as soon as she got inside the car and talk hands-free on the twenty-minute ride home.
There were three couples in between her and her car. The odds one of them worked for Sprigs might be low, but adrenaline pumped through her anyway. Hair pricked on her neck and a foreboding feeling trickled ice down her spine. Joel is watching. It will be fine.
She used her remote to unlock the car door as she approached, keeping an eye on the pair of people who were huddled close together near a truck four spaces over. Even if one did make a move toward her, she could be inside her car before anyone could reach her.
Melanie wasted no time closing the distance to her vehicle. She turned and waved to Joel. He stood there, waiting for her to back out of the lot.
Dawson picked up on the first ring. “Tell me you’re in the car.”
“I am,” she reassured him, relief washing over her. “I’m about to pull out of the lot.”
“Check your rearview. Make sure no one seems too interested in what you’re doing or is following you.”
Melanie hadn’t thought about that. He was right. She wasn’t out of the woods yet. She scanned the area behind her. “So far, so good.”
There was so much tension coming through the line.
“How about now?” he asked. His voice was a study in focus and she appreciated the sense of calmness moving through her.
“A truck just turned out of the lot and is heading toward me.” Her pulse ratcheted up a few notches and her palms warmed.
“Keep an eye on him and let me know if he gets too close. Are you on State Street?”
“Yes. I’m coming home the way I showed you,” she said.
“Good. Don’t veer from that course unless I say.”
“Okay.” The light changed and she pressed the gas a little harder than she’d intended to, jerking forward.
“Melanie?”
“Sorry. I’m fine. Just a little nervous.” She must’ve made a sound without realizing.
“You’re doing great. Take a deep breath.”
She did, making it through the next few lights with ease. It helped that they were green.
The light turned red in the next block. Her shoulders knitted together with tension as she came to a stop and the truck engine whirred behind her.
“Now check your rearview,” Dawson said. “See anyone you recognize?”
Melanie strained to get a good look at the driver.
“It’s a woman.” Relief flooded her. This was racking up to be one heck of a long night.
“A few more lights and you’ll be on the highway,” Dawson said. “And then you’ll be home in another ten minutes.”
“Getting home and taking a long, cool shower never sounded better,” she said, glancing in her rearview.
“I’ll have the water running for you,” he said.
The truck’s turn signal came on.
“She’s about to turn,” Melanie said.
“Any other cars out?”
“None that I can see,” she said.
“Good. You’ll be home free soon.” Dawson’s voice sounded hopeful.
And that made her feel incredibly optimistic.
“Done. She just turned and disappeared.”
“Any other activity around you?”
“None. It’s quiet. And dark. I’m about to pull up to another red light, but it looks good so far.” A sprig of happiness sprouted inside her.
Foot on the brake, she tapped her finger on the steering wheel. She was so ready to be home. A bowl of Cheerios sounded better than steak right now.
Suddenly, a noise sounded from the backseat and a hand came over her mouth. She tried to scream, but only a muffled cry came out.
A dark figure emerged from behind.
“Melanie?” Dawson sounded concerned.
She tried to shout his name, yell for help, but the hand tightened, making it impossible to form words.
“Melanie?” This time, Dawson sounded stressed.
The call disconnected.
“He can’t help you now.”
Melanie would recognize that voice anywhere... Sprigs.
She had a half second to think and no bright ideas came, so she jammed her foot on the gas pedal. She’d bite his hand if she could, but he’d secured a gag over her mouth. Oh God, no.
“Brake,” Sprigs demanded. His sinewy voice was not more than an inch from her right ear. Her skin crawled where he breathed on her.
Despair pressed heavily on her shoulders. All she could think about was Mason and his father. She was grateful for the crash course she’d given him in taking care of their son, because if Sprigs had his way, she wouldn’t be around to do it herself. Son of a bitch.
“I said get your damn foot off the gas,” Sprigs repeated, high-pitched and angry, leaving no room for doubt how serious he was. “I’ll slit your throat right now.”
A hard piece of metal pressed against her throat. A knife?
The reality of the situation hit fast and hard. He wanted to kill her? She shook her head. She might not make it out of this alive, but neither would he. No way would she let him walk away and hurt more kids.
He’d die with her.
Melanie slammed the steering wheel a hard right, popped the curb and aimed the front end of her car toward a brick office complex.
Flooring the pedal, she jabbed her elbow into his face to back him off her as much as she could, praying the object pressed to her neck didn’t slice through her skin.
His head bucked and he slammed his hand into the back of her headrest.
“Dammit,” he said. “Hear me now. If you’d listened to me before, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”
Melanie turned her head to the side, closed her eyes and braced for impact.
“Take your foot off that pedal.” Agitated, his voice rose again.
I love you, Mason.