“In five minutes, stand and leave, turning left as per the route we discussed.”

“Understood,” I reply and am thankful that I’m someone who can memorize things quickly. There will be one of Ashton’s team walking in front of me, at a distance, and I can just follow him as well, but that wasn’t enough for me. I have to be in control, so I have the routes totally committed to memory, all of the ones that we discussed.

* * *

My heart is beating so hard in my chest as I approach the last turn into the street where we anticipate running into Chester. I have what he looks like imprinted in my brain. It’s like it has a red haze over the image which comes from how I feel about him putting so much fear in the woman I love.

As I turn the corner, I can see the street isn’t busy, but there are plenty of people still walking around, either coming home from work or on their way out for the night. There are different smells in the street coming from a few restaurants down this strip and the normal stench of traffic. Cars are parked by the curb, and I see the bus stopping down the street ahead of me on my side of the road. People start exiting, and even from a distance, I see the man I’m here for, which makes my blood boil.

Dark curly collar-length hair, unshaven, but also unkept. Wearing jeans and a hoodie with a hole in the elbow that was facing me as he exited the bus. He turns and starts walking toward me but head down, which is not helpful, because he could easily walk straight past me. Trying to think quickly, I grab my phone from my pocket and pretend to be having a conversation on it as he gets closer. Then as soon as he is about four steps from me, I start talking.

“I miss you too, Harper.” And the moment he hears her name, his head flies up and we lock eyes. “Love you. Bye.” I pocket my phone as he gets level with me, and as he takes one step past me, I hold my demeanor. Then I hear him stop just behind me and call out loud enough for me to hear.

“Hey. You!”

I stop and steel my expression before I turn to look at him, just out of arm’s reach.

“You talking to me?” I say, pretending I’m a little confused and have no idea who he is.

“Yeah, man. You Forrest Taylor?” I scan him standing there with his hands in the single big pocket across the front of his hoodie, and I can tell he has something in his hands in that pocket. What that is, I have no idea yet. But he’s fidgeting and looking around nervously.