More like now, in fact.
I’m grinning as I swing that door open, presenting my best chef smile in the heart-patterned apron I borrowed from Sarah.
But it’s not him.
My grin fades.
I recognise the man in front of me, and yet I don’t.
He’s tall. Dark eyes. Gaunt and wiry.
Strong.
My eyes widen.
They widen a whole lot more when he shunts me inside and closes the door behind him.
I’m backing away on instinct, the lasagne still cooking in the oven as the panic takes my breath.
There’s nowhere to run and I know it.
I try anyway.
I only make it as far as the kitchen doorway before he grabs me from behind. His bulk is familiar, but he stinks of whisky and something else. Diesel.
He reminds me of the seedy denim guy from the pub all those weeks ago.
And just like denim guy, his hand is straight between my legs, pressing his fingers so fucking hard against my clit that it aches.
I squeal when he clasps his hand over my mouth, but just like his brother, he’s pretty damn good at muffling it.
I know this is Jake.
I know it with every single part of me.
“Good girl for leaving the door open. Are you always so fucking willing to do what he says? I guess it’s him you’re wet for, but don’t worry. If you’re a good girl I’ll let you enjoy it.”
I’m rigid in his grip, heart thumping in my ears.
“I don’t know why you all go so fucking mad for my brother,” he says. “He’s a self-important, sour-faced fucking prick. The way he treated my Mariana…”
His voice trails off.
My chest is so tight it hurts to breathe.
His fingers keep rubbing me, but for the first time in memory, the monster at my back doesn’t make my clit throb.
It makes me feel sick.
“I know how he likes to talk to you,” he says. “I read it all online, the whole sorry fucking lot of it. You’re a dirty little bitch, aren’t you? Just like my Mariana was.”
How I fucking cringe inside. The intrusion hurts far worse than his fingers on my body. It feels like he’s been inside the darkest parts of my soul.
And he doesn’t belong there.
That part’s all for Leo.
“Let me talk in a language you’ll understand,” he grunts. “You will come with me to my fucking truck. You will do what I fucking say. If you don’t, I’ll hurt you. If you still don’t, I’ll hurt that sonofabitch boyfriend of yours. Understand?”
I manage a nod.
“I’ve got a whole fucking truck full of kerosene. I’ll burn the fucker alive, and this time there won’t be any fucking fire department to drag him out of there.”
My breath is so shallow, so fast.
“Understand?”
I nod again.
He takes his hand away and I grab a breath.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say. “This is crazy.”
“We’re all a little fucking crazy, sweetheart. I think you’re the craziest bitch of us all. Running straight into the path of some fucking stranger. Begging him to make it fucking hurt. You need help, girl.”
I’m relieved when he drops me. My body feels filthy where he touched me.
Used.
Violated.
“Now get your fucking shoes on,” he grunts. “Or I’ll make you run fucking barefoot like he did.”
I do as he says, stalling as much as I dare.
He doesn’t let me get away with much.
I know Leo is heading here. I know he can’t be that far out.
But he’s far enough out that he misses us.
I’m petrified as I step out onto the landing and close the door behind me. I know Jake’s batshit crazy and wired enough to follow through with whatever insane ideas are fizzing through that addled head of his, so when Sarah sticks her head out of her front door, all smiles as she expects to find Leo ready for Grandma’s special recipe lasagne, I act like everything is totally normal.
“This is Jake,” I tell her. “Leo’s brother.”
I pray she’ll use her intuition, but if it’s there she doesn’t notice.
“Oh, that’s nice,” she says. “I can see the resemblance. Really are meeting the family now, then?”
I nod.
She keeps on smiling.
Jake nudges me along the landing. I move as slowly as I can.
“Hope you enjoy the food!” she calls after us, and she’s gone. Just like that.
My heart sinks, but I keep on walking, praying that my monster in the darkness will catch up with me as easily this time as he has every other time before.Thirty-SixA friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.
King SolomonPhoenixIt’s dusk when I arrive at Abigail’s door.
It feels strange to be here while there’s still enough light to see by, and stranger still to ring her buzzer like any regular visitor.
I wait for the click as she answers but it doesn’t come. I look up at the window and the living room light is on. No sign of her.