It hurts to talk. A bit like when I had my tonsils taken out and for days I had to write anything I wanted to say on a sheet of paper.

“Nice friend!” the doorman says, looking disapprovingly at Fender. “Do you want me to fetch someone?”

It was my question that did it. As soon as he heard Isolde’s name, he flipped. I have to find out why.

“No, thanks,” I say quietly. “There’s no need.”

Fender has fled back inside without saying anything else. The doorman is back in position by the entrance. I can still feel Fender’s fingers around my throat.

He’s lost his mind. The look in his eyes was so very dark….

I glance over at the bikes. I want to go home. There’s no way I can go back to the bar and pretend nothing happened.

Kate’s sure to notice something’s wrong. And what am I supposed to say?

Your best friend just tried to strangle me?

I run my eyes along the bike rack. My racing bike shines back at me.

The idea is so appealing. Away from Fender and his pitch-black eyes. I’ll lie to Kate and Lucas, tell them I got sick. Stomach flu.

Then my gaze moves on—and I see it.

The bike with the big headlight, like a car’s.

He’s here.

I was right.

I haven’t gone crazy. The bike is parked in front of the Riverside!

I walk over to it and examine the frame, as if there might be a name on it somewhere. When I touch the headlight, it’s like an electric shock.

My stalker is here. He was at the stoplight and by the pool just now. He was watching me sitting there in my bikini.

I suddenly feel dirty, like he’s been pawing me.

I turn and go back inside the hotel. I’m going to fetch my things and get away. I won’t stay here for a minute longer than I have to.

From the lobby, I take the stairs two steps at a time. I need my bike key and my bag, and then I’m out of here.

On the last step, someone passes me and I feel a hand around my wrist.

Fender…

“Get your hands off me!” I lash out with my free hand.

“Hey, hey, calm down.”

There’s a laugh and it’s only then that I realize it’s not Fender at all. Claus lets go of my wrist.

“It’s just me.”

I wipe my eyes, but they fill with tears again.

“What’s wrong?” Claus says, looking at me with shock.

“Does that bike outside belong to you?”

Claus frowns. “Which bike?”

“No jokes. The brown one with the big headlight. Is it yours?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Answer me!”

Claus shakes his head. “No.”