the quark?”
“Who the fuck are you people?” I asked and disconnected the call.
Chapter 12
Trey
It had been a little over a week since the last letter, and I think not hearing anything made me more anxious than receiving them did. What if they never sent another? That would be good, right? Or would it be better if they kept sending them and were caught? I was sure my father would keep Hart Security on until the election, but what about after the election? If there were no more notes, would he let them go? Then what would happen if the notes started again?
Roman and I had discussed this, and he said that uneasy, uncertain feeling was what stalkers like this were hoping for, and I got that, but it didn’t change the fact that it was working. I’d barely left the estate. I felt safe here, but I was convinced that the only way he could’ve known I was at the club with Ash was if he followed us there, which meant I honestly didn’t feel safe anywhere. But today we had to go by Roman’s house and pick up some things, and I was less than thrilled we were going there.
It was a thirty-minute drive to get to where he lived, and I worried the whole way. “But what if he follows us here, and then he knows where you live?” That seemed to me to be a genuine concern, but Roman disagreed.
“I’m not sure why that would matter. I’m not staying there, so there would be no reason for him to come here.”
“But what if he decided to get back at you for protecting me and burned your house down?”
“Well, then I would build another house, but that isn’t likely to happen, Trey. I think maybe you’ve watched one-too-many movies. This guy is fixated on you, not me.”
“I just don’t understand why you didn’t just have your brother bring you some things.”
“Because I wanted to get them.”
“Fine,” I said, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms across my chest. Obviously, he wasn’t going to listen to me.
As we pulled into one of the older parts of the city, I was surprised. I didn't know where I expected Roman to live, but this wasn’t it. The streets were lined with brick sidewalks and beautiful old-fashioned streetlamps. Huge trees shaded the entrances to the homes, and it all felt historic and modern at the same time. It had always been one of my favorite parts of town.
We drove around to the back of one of the townhouses, and Roman pressed the button on his garage door opener. “I always wondered where the people who lived in these houses parked,” I said.
“Yeah, some of the houses just have parking spots out back, but the builder who remodeled this section added garages. You sacrifice most of your yard to have one, but I’m not really a yard work kinda guy.”
We got out of the car and went through a door that led into his backyard, and he wasn’t kidding about not being a yard kind of guy. The area between the garage and the house had been bricked, making a sizable patio area. There were a few trees, but nothing else that was living. A set of wooden stairs led up to a small porch area with a set of French doors. I followed him through them into a beautiful kitchen.
“Wow, this is quite a kitchen for someone who buys ready to cook meals.”
“Yeah, the real estate agent went on and on about what a great kitchen it was. I didn’t tell her it would be wasted on me. I just need to grab some clothes and some stuff out of the basement. Feel free to look around.”
He headed up the stairs, and I poked around a bit. Everything was nice and clean, but the house looked staged. It didn’t look lived in. Instead, it looked like it was supposed to look like someone lived here. When he came back down, I said, “Everything is so…perfect. Do you spend any time here?”
He chuckled and said, “Follow me.” We went down a narrow set of stairs that opened into a massive room. A room that said Roman Barnes. There was a huge sectional that looked super comfortable. A giant television hung on the wall, and a pool table sat off to the side. Bookshelves lined one wall, and they were stuffed with books of all kinds. A huge fish tank filled with colorful fish