Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 362

Abby

After I hang up the phone with Karl, I finally slip off to sleep, feeling more relaxed now than I have in days. I fall into a pleasant slumber, one that’s deep and uninterrupted by the lights and sounds coming from outside.

But then it happens.

The sound of glass shattering suddenly wakes me from my sleep. I jolt upright in bed, my heart pounding. That was real; I’m sure of it.

Quietly, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and reach for my phone with one hand and the baseball bat I keep behind the nightstand with the other. With the baseball bat raised just in case, I tiptoe out of my bedroom.

The sound of the news reporter vans idling outside is louder now, with no shield from the window. I furrow my brow, my heart pounding as I slowly and silently tiptoe down the hall and round the corner where the sound came from.

And then I see it.

What I see freezes me in my tracks, my fear momentarily replaced by shock. The back window of my living room, facing the alleyway behind my apartment, has shattered. And below the window, laying on my carpet amidst the mess of shattered glass, is a red brick.

“Hello?” I call out in a shaky voice. Of course, there’s no answer. But I’m certain I’m alone. My house is quiet now, aside from the glass shattering just a few moments ago.

Carefully, I tiptoe over to the mess and peer out the window. There’s no one there, and I allow myself to relax just a little. I bend down and pick up the brick, flipping it over in my hand to see a piece of paper taped to it.

And on the paper is a handwritten message.

“ABBY IS A LYING WHORE!”

My hands tremble as I read the awful words. Who would have written something like this? And why throw the brick through the window? I knew that people would be angry, but I didn’t think that anyone would go this far; and certainly not with a police car sitting right outside.

Speaking of the police officer…

Cursing under my breath, I put the brick back on the floor and approach the door. I pull the slats of the blinds apart to peer out, and just as I suspected, he’s still sleeping. His head is still lolled back on his seat, his mouth open.

“Dammit,” I hiss. Without a second thought this time, I fling the door open and rush outside in my bare feet and pajamas.

I rush up to the car, my baseball bat still in hand, and take a moment to look down at the sleeping officer. The sounds of his snores emanate through the window, and it only makes me even more angry.

Rage surges inside of me, and I slam my palm against the glass. Startled, the officer jerks awake, his eyes widening as he meets my furious gaze.

I grip the baseball bat tightly, ready to confront him for his failure to protect me. “Wake up!” I shout, my brows knit together with frustration. “And get out here!”

The officer, his eyes wide, slowly cracks the window. “Ma’am—” he begins, reaching for the gun on his belt, but I interrupt him.