Free Honored: An Alpha Mob Romance (City Series Book 4) by B. B. Hamel Page A

didn’t put too much stock in the guys dumping packages into the river—apparently that happened all the time—but they didn’t seem like they outright didn’t believe me.
    They had agreed to stick around the neighborhood for a little while and keep an eye out for any suspicious vans. So for the next half hour, they parked down at the corner and waited. I paced around my room, embarrassed and nervous.
    Of course the van never showed up again. After a half hour went by, the cops came back and told me that there was nothing they could do. They said I was probably seeing different vans, that I was just upset from the guys harassing me the other day, and that I should consider talking to a friend or something instead of calling the police. They left after that, and I buried my face in a pillow.
    I had never called the police before in my entire life. I had never needed to, for any reason. I wasn’t the kind of person to overreact about something or to make things up for attention. I knew what was happening to me.
    I wasn’t crazy. I definitely wasn’t crazy. I couldn’t be crazy, could I?
    I took another sip of coffee and sighed. I looked at Petey in the other room and wished he could verify my story. He had seen the van at least once or twice, and he was around when the guy chased me.
    Unfortunately, Petey was a dog, and his English wasn’t great.
    The cops were actually pretty nice about everything in the end. I understood that they felt like I was wasting their time, though they didn’t rub that in my face too much. Philly was full of real problems. But I genuinely had no interest in making up stories, let alone in making the police come out every time I was scared. In the end, it was completely pointless to have called them, and I regretted it. They made me feel like a bratty princess, even though they were more than professional, when I was far from that. I had gone through my own shit, dealt with my own demons, and I always would. I hated that I was suddenly the girl who was afraid of random vans.
    The coffee was cold on my next sip, and I sighed. As I stood up to refresh my cup, I heard my doorbell buzz.
    Petey let out a bark and I looked up, surprised. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I padded over barefoot to the intercom system and hit the button.
    “Yes?” I said.
    “Got a delivery here for you,” the guy said.
    “Uh, okay, come on up,” I said, buzzing him in.
    I wasn’t expecting anything, but it wasn’t impossible that I had a package. I was like everyone else: I loved buying stuff online and having it appear at my apartment. It was almost like magic.
    Not long after I let him up, there was a loud knock at my door. Petey started barking.
    “Hold on a second,” I called out.
    I walked over to Petey and took him by the collar. “Petey, come on,” I said. I pulled him over to my bedroom, opened the door, and moved him in.
    “Stay here,” I said, closing the door behind me. Satisfied the poor delivery guy wasn’t going to get mobbed by Petey, I walked back to the front door, released the bolt, and pulled it open.
    The guy standing there wasn’t a deliveryman. He was wearing a black ski mask, a black sweatshirt, loose jeans, and was easily over six feet tall.
    “Who are—” I said, but before I could say anything more, he pulled out a gun and shoved it in my face.
    “Get inside, bitch,” he said, voice gruff.
    My insides felt like ice as I backed into my apartment. My eyes were wide and I put my hands up. It almost seemed fake. I felt myself begin to tremble as he followed me in, shutting the door behind him.
    “On the couch,” he grunted.
    “Okay, please don’t hurt me,” I said in a quiet voice.
    I backed into the living room and sat down on the couch, my entire body shaking. I had never seen a real gun in front of me before, let alone had a man wearing a ski mask shove one in my face.
    For a brief moment, I wished that the cops could have been around. Not to save me, but to see what was