I glanced at the screen on my cell to see it was Brock saying “on my way” then I went to my landline, grabbed it out of the receiver, hit the on button, and put it to my ear.

“Hello,” I greeted.

Nothing.

“Hello?” I repeated.

More nothing.

I was about to take the phone from my ear when I heard a man ask, “This Tessa O’Hara?”

A shiver shot down my spine. I didn’t know why, it just did.

And it wasn’t pleasant.

“Uh…” I started.

“Tessa O’Hara who’s seein’ Brock Lucas?”

Ice filled my veins.

“Who’s this?” I asked.

“It is,” the voice whispered then I had a dead line.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

I put the phone in the receiver and moved to my cell, making quick work of calling Brock.

A ring, then, “Babe.”

“I just got a creepy call.”

A small hesitation, then, “What kind of creepy?”

“Creepy creepy. Creepy wrong creepy. It came in on my landline.”

“You listed?” he asked.

Heck no, I wasn’t listed. First, I was a single female. Second, my ex-husband was a whack job who raped me and eventually turned out to be a drug lord.

I didn’t give Brock this answer.

Instead, I answered, “No.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, then, “What’d they say?”

I sucked in a breath, then told him, “He asked if I was Tessa O’Hara. Then he asked if I was seeing you. I didn’t answer either but I asked him who he was and he said, ‘It is,’ meaning he knew he got me and I was seeing you and then he hung up on me.”

“Doors locked?” Brock asked instantly and I felt another shiver.

“I don’t…” I paused. “I don’t know,” I told him, moving directly toward the backdoor.

“Check. Lock,” he ordered.

Backdoor secure, I headed toward the front, saying a shaky, “Okay.” Then I asked, “Is this the kind of thing Olivia would do, you know, to play with me?”

“Never played this dirty but wouldn’t put it past her,” he answered.

Freaking great.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said softly.

“Okay,” I replied, locking the front door and then I told him, “I’m all locked.”

“Good, baby. See you soon.”

“Okay.”

He ended the call, and I moved back to the kitchen, my eyes going to the microwave to note the time. Then I tried to control the fear that was mixing with the anger should this be Olivia as I dealt with the final preparations for dinner.

Eight minutes had elapsed when it happened. I knew this because I had just checked the microwave for the fiftieth time.

And what happened was I heard gunshots, six of them, one after another sounding like they were right in front of my house.