(TYLER)
I'm still wallowing when something tells me to look up, and when I do, I meet the gaze of the burly guy at the corner and immediately look away. I feel a sudden chill run through me. He looks scary, for starters, his eyes are dark and broody. His arms look like they're straining the material of the suit he has on, and his hair is cut short. Also, his nose looks like it has been broken a few generous times.
There's just something about the way he looks at me that makes me sure that he is with the Triple Triad syndicates. They don't have to outright say it, but the way they carry out themselves clues you in.
My focus shifts back to my cup of coffee. Being on this guy's radar is the last thing I want right now. I don't get why he's gawking at me, that alone makes me break a sweat. I'm just a low-life omega. Sure, he doesn't look like he is in a high position in the mafia. He must be the muscle. But even then, the fact that he's with the Triple Triads means he's still above me.
Reign walks over to me again, holding the coffee pot. "Need a top up?" she asks, beaming a smile at me."
"No, thanks Reign." I shake my head. "I should be on my way. Thanks for letting me sit for a while."
Her gaze drops to my stomach, and I can see her face twitch. Much as I hate to admit it, I know she pities me. That could be the reason she lets me sit for long without hassling me.
I get to my feet, getting ready to leave. But I still feel the burly man's stare at the back of my skull. Knowing that he is watching me makes me uncomfortable, but there isn't much I can do about it. I leave the bill on the table and take my leave, and I hear the little bells jingle behind me as I exit the diner. I can't fight the unease that courses through me when after just a few steps I hear the bells jingle again.
Did he just follow me outside?
It can't be. I don't dare to turn my back to confirm.
But the scrape of the shoes on the sidewalk piques my curiosity. I'm summoning all my willpower to not turn back to look however much it freaks me out. Whoever it is, they seem to be heading in the same direction as me.
After all, people leave diners. It doesn't necessarily mean something terrible is about to happen. If it's the burly guy behind me, that means he just has someplace to be. It doesn't mean he is following me. He can't be following a nobody like me. He sure has no business with me, right?
I pick my pace as I hurry down the sidewalk, and I notice a black SUV with tinted windows parked down the street. The streetlights illuminate its tinted windows, but I still can't see a thing. However, I have this gut feeling that someone is watching me from the inside as I pass.
When I finally decide to glance over my shoulder, I notice the burly suit guy after me. Dread slithers through me as I pick my pace again, and I'm relieved when he peels off to the SUV. I feel a tinge of relief, and I hurry down the street. I'm trembling like a leaf. Sure, I have no reason to think the weird-looking guy is after me, but I can't fight my gut feeling.
I have to admit though that I am paranoid. I fear what Jake might do when he finds out he didn't finish the job. Part of me always suspected that he either had links with the mob or worked for them, given his endless heroin supply and how he dressed. What even fuels my suspicion was how easily he tried to kill me. To him, my life was useless, and on the possibility that I could be pregnant, it was expendable.
The strange guy wasn't after me, right? I mean, he already went towards that SUV, thank heavens. I don't want any more problems on top of the ones I already have. The last thing I want is to be followed by the mob. I suspect that Jake isn't looking for me. He thinks that he handled the problem and I died at the motel. I was only lucky that housekeeping found me before the situation turned dire, but would Jake know that? I doubt he would.
I doubt he even gave me another thought after he kicked my hand off and left me convulsing in there.
I try to shake off the gloomy thoughts before they take me to a point of no return. I cross my arms over my chest as the cold bites into my skin as I hurry down to the homeless shelter. It's the best I can do because I didn't carry my jacket. I used to love this weather, but that was back when I had a place to call home.
Sure, my parents were addicts, but even then, I could say they were a bit functional. But that only lasted until they couldn't afford our house rent, and when we were finally thrown out, I went to fend for myself.
We eventually lost contact when they became full-on druggies, and I didn't regret that bit. They took pleasure in telling me that I'd been their mistake, and I didn't see much loss when I finally cut ties with them. I have no idea where they are, and I don't care.
I'm close to the shelter when I hear the slow rumbling of an engine behind me, then I notice I'm being followed. Dread lodges at the back of my throat and I feel my skin grow gooseflesh. I don't dare look back because I don't want to come to terms with this, and I'm afraid of what I might see. What's with this night?
But my fear overrides my warning bells, and I turn back and take a glance.
Shit! It's the black SUV!