Finally, one day when we were at the coffee shop Pete asked directly. His daughter, Mandy was with her grandparents for the weekend.
"Katherine, I’d really like to take you to dinner. Just us, like an actual date."
I hesitated. Should I try to give him a real chance?
"I don’t know if I’m ready-"
"It’s just dinner. See, no pressure. I’d really like to get to know you better without a six-year-old interrupting every five minutes."
I laughed despite myself. "She is enthusiastic."
"That’s one word for it." He was looking at hopefully. "So, dinner?"
Against my better judgnt, I found myself agreeing. "Okay. Dinner."
His smile was genuine, and he felt relieved. "Saturday? I know a great Italian place."
"Saturday works."
After he left, I wondered what I just agreed to.
Saturday arrived, and I was getting ready.
I stood in front of my closet trying to decide what to wear.
My hand landed on the green dress. The one Tony bought , the one he had loved.
I pulled it out and held it up, rembering the last ti I wore it.
Why was I even considering this? This was a date with Pete. Not Tony.
But I put it on anyway as I couldn’t help myself.
Looking in the mirror, I saw soone trying too hard to move on.
"This is ridiculous."
But I didn’t change.
Pete picked up at seven. He looked nice with his button-down shirt and dress pants.
"You look beautiful."
"Thank you. You clean up well yourself."
The restaurant was lovely. It was a small Italian place that seed intimate.
We ordered wine, appetizers, and pasta.
Pete talked about his work. He’s an architect who designs comrcial buildings.
"I actually designed the new library downtown. That’s my proudest project."
"That’s impressive."
He talked about Mandy. His face lit up whenever he ntioned her.
"My ex-wife left when Mandy was two. Said motherhood wasn’t for her and that she felt trapped. She signed away her rights. I haven’t heard from her since."
"That must have been incredibly hard."
"It was, but Mandy’s my world. I’d do anything for her. She deserves better than a mother who doesn’t want her."
He’s a good father and a good man.
But I’m not feeling what I should.
I kept thinking. What would Tony order? How would Tony look at across this table?
"Katherine? You okay?"
I snapped back. "Sorry. Just distracted."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
He didn’t push, just pivoted the conversation to safer topics.
We finished dinner with decent conversation. It was a pleasant evening with zero chemistry, zero spark, zero anything.
Pete walked to my door.
"I had a really nice ti tonight."
" too." I was lying, but answered politely.
"Maybe we could do this again?"
"Maybe."
He leaned in, attempting to kiss , and I turned my head instinctively. His lips landed on my cheek.
"I’m sorry. I’m just... not ready."
Disappointnt flashes across his face, but he recovers. "I understand. We can take it slow. However slow you need."
"Thanks for understanding."
"Good night, Katherine."
"Good night, Pete."
When he left. I went inside and locked the door.
Leaned against it to exhale a deep breath.
I just turned down a perfectly good, stable man.
Because I was still in love with Tony Marvin.
After Pete left, I felt like I was being watched.
I went to the window to look out, but saw nothing. The parking lot was empty and dark.
But the feeling persists. Soone was out there.
"Paranoia," I said to myself. "Just paranoia from two years of constant danger."
But I double-check all the locks anyway. The windows and doors... everything.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that soone was out there watching .
I tried to sleep but couldn’t. Every sound made jump.
Finally, around 3 AM, exhaustion won, and I drifted off.
On an early Sunday morning, I was making coffee when I noticed sothing on my doorstep.
It was an envelope with no na or address, just sitting there.
I picked it up and opened it.
There were multiple professional-quality photos of Pete and at dinner last night, shot from multiple angles at different monts.
It showed us laughing, talking, him attempting to kiss , and turning away.
Soone had photographed our entire date.
I felt my blood run cold.
There was a typed note inside.
"Enjoying your new life with the cute boyfriend. Sweet kid. Let’s see how long it lasts. -H.P."
H.P., I said out loud
Hassan Patton.
The man who shot Elliot and who was supposed to be in FBI custody.
But he’s here, watching and photographing .
And now he knows about Pete and about Mandy.
I thought leaving Tony would keep safe. Keep everyone safe.
But danger followed anyway... just like Tony hadwarned.
I shook, staring at the photos and the note.
Hassan Patton is here, planning sothing and targeting .
And innocent people - Pete and Mandy are now in danger because of .
Again.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Timothy.
"Timothy, it’s Katherine. Hassan Patton... he’s here in my town and has been watching ."
"That’s impossible. He’s in federal custody-"
"Then soone escaped, or you have the wrong person, because he just left photos on my doorstep from last night. This was professional surveillance."
He was silent, then responded. "I’m checking. Hold on."
I wait. My heart was pounding, and I was terrified.
Timothy ca back, his voice grim. "Hassan Patton escaped custody three days ago in a maximum security transport. He killed two guards. We’ve been searching but-"
"He’s here in my town, and he knows where I live."
"Katherine, you need protection now. I’m sending agents-"
"How long?"
"Three hours minimum."
Three hours. Might as well be three years.
Hassan could strike at any mont.
"I’m calling Tony," I say.
"Katherine-"
I hung up and dialed Tony’s number. The one I swore I wouldn’t call.
It rang once. Twice.
"Katherine?" His voice was shocked and sounded hopeful.
"Hassan Patton escaped. He’s here and has been watching . He left photos, Tony. I’m scared."
"I’m on my way. Lock your doors and don’t leave. I’ll be there in two hours."
"Tony-"
"Two hours, Katherine. I’m coming."
The line went dead.
I stood in my apartnt with the photos scattered on the counter and evidence that my safe life was an illusion.
Hassan Patton was coming for .
And once again, Tony Marvin is the only one who can save .
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