Finding Kenna (SEAL Team Hawaii #3)(66)
Work that night seemed to go by much more slowly than in the past. Probably because Kenna didn’t have any texts from Marshall to look forward to, and she knew when she got home, she wouldn’t be talking to him either.
When Alani asked why Kenna seemed so down, she realized that she wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her worry for Marshall. Carly surprised her when she brought up the deployment, and Kenna could only assume she’d heard about it from Jag. She wanted to tease her about being “just” friends with Marshall’s teammate, but she wasn’t in a teasing mood.
The two women talked about where the men might be for a while, but because neither kept up with international news, they had no idea where the hot spots were at the moment. And, ultimately, it didn’t matter where they were, just that they came home safe and sound.
By the end of the night, after dealing with a customer who got so drunk he puked all over himself, the table, and the chair he was sitting in, being stiffed a tip by another table, and having to deal with what seemed like more than the normal amount of screaming and misbehaving children, Kenna was more than ready to head home.
Paulo walked her and Carly to the parking garage they always used, and after giving them both a hug, Kenna headed for her car. She unlocked her Malibu and got in, locking the doors behind her and putting her purse on the passenger seat. She put the key in the ignition and started to turn the car on—when something on her windshield caught her attention.
A piece of paper was stuck under her wiper blade.
Looking around carefully, Kenna didn’t see anyone lurking, so she got out and grabbed the note. She sat back in her car and locked the doors again, being extra cautious. She unfolded the note—and stared in confusion, then anger, then a little bit of fear at the words written there.
You should’ve minded your own business.
That’s all it said. It wasn’t signed, and there was no clue as to who had left it on her car. But Kenna had a feeling she knew. The man from Saturday night…the one she’d called the cops on. Men like him wouldn’t take kindly to anyone putting a nose in their business, but especially not a woman.
Had he followed her to the parking garage from work the other night? She’d hoped the police would keep him at the station until he sobered up, at least, but maybe that didn’t happen since his wife didn’t press charges. Maybe he came back to Duke’s and watched her leave…
She’d guessed he and his family were tourists, but plenty of locals frequented Duke’s. If they lived here, he had plenty of time to come up with some way to get back at her.
Shit. Time to go. She was freaking herself out and needed to get the hell out of the dark parking garage. She didn’t want to be like one of those “too stupid to live” heroines in a cheesy horror movie who did all the wrong things and put herself smack dab in the middle of the bad guy’s path.
Kenna knew she should probably take the note to the police, but she just wanted to get home where she felt safe.
No, what she really wanted was to talk to Marshall, but that wasn’t possible. And she’d touched the note, so now her fingerprints would be all over it. She had no idea if the parking garage she used had cameras, but while she thought the note sounded threatening, technically it wasn’t…at least that’s what she assumed whoever left it—and the police—might say.
Hating that she felt so vulnerable and off-kilter, and knowing it was largely exacerbated because Marshall was gone, Kenna took a deep breath. She’d never relied on a man for anything before, but despite that, in the short time she’d known Marshall, he’d become her rock.
As she’d thought last night, this deployment was probably good for her, proving that she needed to continue to be the strong and independent woman she’d always been. But Kenna still missed Marshall.
She drove home with one eye on the road and another on the cars in her rearview. Of course, since she wasn’t a super-spy, she had no idea what to look for or how to know if someone was following her. Unless they were sitting on her bumper, she wouldn’t know if one of the sets of headlights belonged to the man who’d left the note on her car.
When she arrived home without incident, and once she was in her apartment safe and sound, Kenna let out a wobbly, relieved breath. She was being ridiculous. She’d taken self-defense courses; if that asshole decided to confront her in person—instead of being a coward and leaving her notes like they were in grade school—she’d kick his ass, then run like hell.
Deciding to sleep in her beanbag tonight didn’t mean she was a scaredy-cat. Nope. It was just comfortable. And if she concentrated really hard, she could still smell Marshall from when he snuggled with her while she napped.
Kenna slept like shit that night. She had nightmares of a man with no face breaking into her apartment and shooting her. Then Marshall showed up while she was trying to staunch the flow of blood, and he apologized for not being able to help her, as both his arms had been blown off on his mission.
Needless to say, Kenna was more than happy to get up the next morning.
“Today’s a new day,” she said out loud, scolding herself. “Get your shit together, Kenna. One step in front of the other and one day at a time. Marshall will be back soon, and if that guy from the other night does decide to get stupid, you’ll deal with it.”