☆ Cherise ☆
He found me again.
I moved to another state, and the bastard found me.
Worst part is, I tried really hard to help him get his life on track.
Now, he was making me a nervous wreck.
I couldn’t date, even if I wanted to.
I couldn’t go out with friends.
I couldn’t stay home and feel safe.
Then, one day, I got a call from an ex-military guy looking for a therapist.
He needed clearance to join the FBI.
He could be my stalker, or he could be a hero.
Determined not to live in fear any longer, I decided to help him.
After my brother’s death, I realized in serving my country, I’d done a disservice to my family.
So, I snapped and broke some shit.
They quickly gave me my exit papers from the military.
As an ex-Marine, if I ever wanted to get into the FBI, I’d need to prove I wasn’t a safety concern.
Apparently, people with anger management issues shouldn’t carry weapons.
So I found a therapist—a female therapist.
We were all of fifteen minutes into our session when I realized all was not right in her world.
She was on edge because she had a stalker.
Lucky for me, I wasn’t currently employed.
Lucky for her, I was highly trained and intensely motivated to save her.
I’d always been a sucker for a damsel in distress.
And this woman needed a hero.