French Quarter by Lacey Alexander (small books to read .TXT) 📕

After kneeling over it to close it up, she got to her feet, ready to head upstairs. That’s when she saw Todd sitting in a wingback chair by the window.

She flinched—damn it! He was just sitting there watching her. For how long? “What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped.

He tilted his head smugly. “I live here.”

“Why aren’t you at work?”

“I called in sick.”

She let out a sigh. What were the chances? “You look fine to me.”

“Well, I’m not. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m heartbroken.”

She drew a deep breath, then let it back out. Be calm. He seemed a little more normal today. Snotty, but not crazy. “I’m sorry about that, and sorry to have burst in on you. I’ll just take my things and go.”

He glanced at the boxes she’d filled. “Really, Elizabeth, you could have called. I’m not going to hold your books for ransom or anything.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, given the way you’ve reacted to this whole thing, I wasn’t sure.”

He actually smiled. “Need help carrying them over to Lynda’s? Books are heavy. I’m happy to help.”

She didn’t know quite what to think. Was it possible Jack had actually gotten through to him the other night, that he was really going to leave her alone now? Was it possible he was being sincere, trying to end things on a civil note? She wanted to believe that, but in her heart, she couldn’t quite take that step. “Thanks anyway,” she said, “but I can carry them.” She picked up the CD box and headed for the door. She’d half-expected him to follow her or detain her somehow, but when she stopped to look back, he still sat comfortably in the chair. “And just so you know, I won’t be next door anymore.” She wanted to make sure he wouldn’t bother Lynda—the last thing she wanted was to heap trouble or danger on her friend.

“Where are you moving?”

She sighed. “What difference does it make?”

He pierced her with his suspicious gaze. “I bet I know. I bet you’re moving in with that Neanderthal of yours.” When she didn’t reply, he lifted his hand to his chin, stroking an imaginary beard. “Now that troubles me.”

She simply turned back to the door, murmured, “Sorry to hear that,” shifted the box to one hip, and reached down for the knob.

“I don’t want you living with that guy.”

The smart thing would be to ignore him, just keep going. Yet somehow she couldn’t. She was so tired of letting him push her around. He’d been doing it since they’d met and now that she’d started fighting back, she couldn’t seem not to. “Well, where I live is really none of your business anymore.”

He shrugged. “Maybe not, but I’d advise against moving in with him.”

She blinked, wondering what the hell he had up his sleeve. “Oh?”

“I know some things about your Neanderthal man.”

She didn’t reply, simply stood there by the door, waiting for him to go on.

“I know things like where he works, where he lives.”

She let out a disgusted sigh. She had no idea whether he was telling the truth or not, whether it was even possible for him to know, but… “What are you getting at?”

“Do you know, Elizabeth, that a guy can learn how to do practically anything these days on the Internet?”

What on earth was he talking about? She was about to give up finding out and had just reached for the doorknob once more when he said, “Do you know that a person can find out how to make a simple bomb with just a few clicks of the mouse?”

Liz felt all the blood drain from her cheeks. She finally lowered the heavy box to the hardwood floor. She put her hands on her hips and tried to sound stronger than she felt. “What the fuck are you talking about, Todd? Spit it out. Exactly what are you trying to say?”

He made a tsking sound. “Such language. Maybe you aren’t my perfect little wife, after all.”

“About time you got that message.”

He simply chuckled. “I didn’t mean that. I can forgive the occasional slip, darling, unlike you. But either way, whether or not you and I get back together right now, I don’t want you living with that guy. And if you do move in with him, Elizabeth, I promise you’ll regret it. Or, I should say, he will. And I’ll know if you do it—trust me, I’ll know.”

 Liz simply stared at him. To think she’d been foolish enough to believe he’d been acting reasonable there for a few minutes. God, he was truly psychotic. As that and his threat against Jack began to sink thoroughly into her skin, she knew she had to get out of there—now. She couldn’t stand being in Todd’s presence for one more minute. She opened the door and stepped out onto the porch, then hurried across the yard toward Lynda’s with the box in her arms, no longer caring if she got the rest of her stuff back, ever. She just wanted Todd out of her life.

Letting herself into Lynda’s, she dropped the box just inside the door and turned the lock, then plopped onto the couch. She’d been so close, so close to really having him out of her life. She’d thought by day’s end she’d be moved into Jack’s, where a wonderful new existence of happiness and acceptance and freedom could begin. Now what was she supposed to do?

Leaning her head back against the sofa, she took a deep breath and tried to think.

Gathering her courage, she went to the phone and called the police.

“NOPD,” a woman answered on the second ring.

Liz’s stomach churned. “I…need help with a problem.”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific than that, honey.”

Liz rolled her eyes at own idiocy. Pull yourself together and make some sense. “My ex-fiancé is…making threats against me, and also against my new boyfriend.”

The woman on the other end took on a kinder, slower tone. “What kind of threats?”

“Well, he implied that