I hesitated. Pick hadn’t wanted her to know and unnecessarily scare her. But maybe if she was alerted to the danger, we could avoid it. And besides, I did feel as if I owed her some kind of explanation.
“He said someone’s been leaving threats on your locker at work.”
Her eyebrows crinkled before she shook her head. “No...” she said slowly. “I haven’t gotten a single note left on my locker.”
“That’s because they’ve always been intercepted by other people first. And those people have always brought them to Pick.”
Blurting out a laugh, she shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. No one’s threatened me. Pick probably only said that to get your protective instincts going. It’s bullshit, Knox.”
“He showed me the notes. They weren’t nice. They said shit like ‘You’ll get yours, bitch,’ and ‘Don’t sleep too heavily tonight.’ One described your car and an outfit you wore. Someone is stalking you.”
Shuddering, she hugged herself. But just as quickly she frowned. “I still call bullshit.”
“Why do you think at least one guy always walks you to your car every night, why someone usually follows you back to the break room?”
With a snort, she rolled her eyes. “Because I work with the overly protective big brother type? I don’t know.”
“Because Pick’s told them to,” I corrected. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed anything unusual these past few months since working at Forbidden. Prank phone calls. Problems with your car?”
She paused as if something had recently happened to her car. But then she scowled. “My car’s a piece of shit. It never works right. And everyone gets hang-ups now and again. I assure you, nothing has struck my radar as threatening.” She lifted her eyebrows. “And that includes you.”
I watched her, worry growing inside me. Turning her nose up in denial might be worse than if she’d just been blissfully unaware. Now she might purposely put herself into a sketchy situation just to prove no one was after her.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” I said. “Just keep it safe.”
Narrowing her eyes, she met my warning with a rebellious glare. “Well, aren’t you just the pot calling the kettle black.”