Restraining Order

by Alex Dean

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  Sneak Peek: The Bogeyman Next Door

  MARKED FOR DEATH…

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  THE FOUR MEN shuddered with fear in the back of the black Cadillac Escalade as it turned onto Mulholland Drive. Their faces remained covered, their mouths and hands bound. They winced and groaned with the notion that death could now be imminent. Then one of the kidnapped men, figuring he had just minutes left to live, hurled forward and delivered a wild and swift kick, brazenly connecting with the side of the driver’s face.

  The unsuspecting blow startled the driver. His adrenaline pumping now, he twisted his body and turned his anger toward the backseat.

  “I’m gonna kill you, you son of a bitch!” he yelled as the looming hunk of metal came to an abrupt halt. Suddenly, he and his accomplice fiercely flung open their doors and jumped out.

  The Escalade sat motionless, idling in front of the vacant house near the end of the block. The ramshackle two-story was next door to the home of Alexis Fields, who, after narrowly escaping her disturbed ex, recently relocated (along with her dog, Max, a brown and white Shih Tzu), from her hometown of Madison, Wisconsin, to Lake Park, Illinois, in search of a new life and career as a medical intern.

  But there was danger lurking here tonight.

  The driver and his cohort paused for a tense beat and stealthily scanned the area. There could be no witnesses, they thought. None to tell what they had seen or heard. But there was someone in the bushes, peering from a distance. He’d arrived there for a similar yet unrelated purpose, watching all of the action as it unfolded. He did not know them, and they were unaware of his presence.

  Without hesitation, the driver and his accomplice yanked the men from the SUV, moved through the darkness and shoved them into the backyard of the desolate house. Strewn about the gargantuan yard was garbage, chunks of concrete and construction debris. They walked up the frail wooden steps and filed inside, smelling the room’s putrid and disgusting odor, the kind that would have emanated from a rotting corpse. The four were thrust down into chairs, into pitch-black darkness as chatter from a nearby police scanner bellowed into the airspace.

  Then, one of the captors turned on a table lamp, walked to a corner of the room, grabbed an AR-15 assault rifle with attached suppressor and racked the charging handle. The captured men shuddered and flailed at the sound of the lethal weapon engaging, and at what was sure to come next. Their breathing accelerated, their hearts pounding like the sound of bass marching drums. Their pulses hammered.

  The man holding the rifle smirked as he walked toward them. He snatched the pouch from his nearest victim’s head and viciously tore the tape from his mouth. He furrowed his brow. His forehead creased. “Do you know why you’re here?” he asked.

  The seated man gasped. His eyes bulged from their sockets in fear, welling up with tears. “Please don’t do this,” he spat out. “Listen. You got it all wrong, man. I swear. We can get you your money. A little more time is all we need. Please! Please!”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

  The victim swiveled his neck toward the nearest window and shrieked: “Help! Please, somebody help us!” he called as loud as he could before breaking out into an uncontrollable sob.

  “Shhhh... stop your whimpering. It’s pathetic,” the captor snapped. “I’m not going to shoot you. But you’re all going to die a different way,” he said as he forcefully taped the man’s mouth again, covered his head with the black bag, and bound the drawstring tightly.

  Moments later, the madman loomed over them, now holding a ten-inch hunting knife. Still seated, the men squirmed and writhed in fear, hands tied behind their backs and heads sheathed with those terrifying pouches, like the kind terrorists always used on their captives. The maniac then heaved a deep breath, moved closer to his nearest seated victim, and sliced into him, drawing the blade across his neck with the precision of a New York butcher. Suddenly, there was a violent ripping noise and a flaring sheet of agony. A euphoric rush surged from the inner depths of his consciousness as the killer maniacally decapitated the first of these four helpless souls.

  The killer then nestled the knife against the dead man’s cargo pants, and craned his neck toward the sound of approaching footsteps in the hall. There was a silhouette of a man lingering in the dimly lit doorway. One of the killer’s cohorts walked into the room with an ominous warning.

  “We got a problem.”

  Sneak Peek: The Bogeyman Next Door Continued

  THE RIM OF DARKNESS

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  I WAS CHECKING my email when Max hurried over to me, wanting to go into the backyard. I closed my laptop, got up, and started toward the kitchen, when suddenly, I heard a strange sound from outside. It sounded like a person screaming for help. Max and I quickly went to open the backdoor to figure out from where the screams had emerged. But the doorbell suddenly rang, temporarily distracting me from investigating any further. I darted to the front door, peered out the peephole and opened it. Standing on my doorstep was an innocent-looking teenager with shoulder-length hair and an earring in his left ear, dressed like an Abercrombie and Fitch model.

  “Hi, ma’am. We hate to bother you, but our car broke down by the corner, and we were wondering if you could call a tow truck for us. I left my cell at home, and my girlfriend’s phone isn’t charged.”

  “Sure, I guess I can do that. Hold on, let me grab mine and find one for you.”

  I used my phone’s voice activation feature to contact a local towing company, then handed it to the teen to finish the call.

  “Thanks so much, ma’am. My name is Aaron, by the way. My girlfriend and I will be in my car waiting. That’s it by the curb. The black Camaro.”

  “That’s a nice car. And you’re welcome; let me know if you guys need anything else. I’ll be home.”

  I stood on the porch as the boy returned to the car, got in and rolled down the windows. He and his girlfriend waited patiently, staring at the house next door as I watched and listened with rabid curiosity.

  “Fuck—that is one creepy-looking place. And it’s so huge. I just thought of a cool-ass idea, though. We could put out the word on Facebook we’re having a party in there. Drinks, weed, sex—all for free. That would be totally awesome!” he said.

  “Yeah, real smart, dipshit. Like anyone’s going to go inside that disgusting house. So how long is it going to take the tow truck to come? And where is that asshole who’s supposed to meet us here?” said the girl.

  “The towing guy said maybe forty-five minutes to an hour. I think they’re the only game in town. So calm down already, and quit freakin’ out, all right?” the boy said sharply.

  After I finished eavesdropping and closed the door, I hurled down the phone and hurried into the backyard, nervously seeking Max. I glanced at the chain-link fences on each side of the yard, and the old patio set in the middle that had been left by the previous owners. Then I glanced at the house next door, which was not only vacant, but was awaiting demolition or renovation, I’d been told. All the windows except for one were covered with wooden boards to prevent trespassers from entering. I yelled Max’s name and, while looking in the direction of the house, suddenly saw a frenzied, jerky movement, behind the rear window. A strange figure stood there.

  “What the hell?” I murmured.

  Learn more about The Bogeyman Next
Door

  Sneak Peek: Stalked

  MY EYES FLEW open to the sound of something or someone inside my condo as I lay asleep. Terrified, I began quietly easing upwards, my pulse hammering, back pressing against the headboard of the bed.

  I immediately conjured thoughts of the torment and the harrowing past I so desperately wanted to leave behind. Something in my chest started to flutter. My eyes were wild as panic bloomed in the pit of my stomach.

  Nervously peering across the room, I could now see a dark shape, smoothly and silently slinking about the doorway. Slowly. Moving closer—toward me. It was definitely moving, whatever it was, whoever it was.

  Closer.

  I lay there, paralyzed in terror as it crept closer. Oh, God, no! This can’t be happening!

  My heart raced as the masked intruder suddenly and swiftly lunged forward and violently grabbed me by my throat, pulling me out of bed as I tumbled onto the floor.

  I screamed at the top of my lungs and tried to regain my balance as he held me down, one of his hands tightly gripping me like a horse’s collar, the other pulling my hair back—commanding me to look up at him in horror.

  My arms and legs flailing, I frantically stretched and grabbed the porcelain lamp from my nightstand, then managed with all of my adrenaline-fueled strength to swing, smashing it into his face.

  The blow stunned him. He grunted and wavered momentarily. It was enough to allow me to free myself and run for the door of my condo to escape.

  I unlocked the dead bolt and wrenched the handle, then darted into the hallway. I could hear him following close behind. I’d been able to move fast enough to get out before he leaped in a desperate attempt to stop me cold.

  “HELP!! PLEASE!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!” I screamed down the hallway, banging my fist on several doors as I ran toward the emergency exit stairwell.

  I looked back and saw that he was still behind me. His face was hideously covered with some type of streaked silicone mask. He was dressed all in black. Who the hell was this and why was he after me?

  I ran down the concrete stairs and hobbled out into the building’s underground parking garage, panting, looking around for my car, for somebody, anybody to help me.

  I bolted to Section C, the area where I last remembered parking.

  I surveyed my surroundings, shaking, gripped in panic as I tried to get one of my car’s doors open. Dammit! No keys. My eyes pinballed across the area. He was gone now. Vanished. Had he stopped chasing me? Could I have lost him somehow?

  I felt a sense of relief as I crumpled down onto the cold concrete of the parking garage and nestled my back against the driver’s side door of my BMW.

  I closed my eyes for a split second to calm my frazzled nerves, wishing my pulse would simmer down. I took in a deep breath, silently wondering just what the hell was happening here. Was this all a bad dream?

  Suddenly, I heard the patter of footsteps fast approaching, widely opening my eyes in fear.

  I sat horrified and in shock as this monster stood before me with a sapphire-colored motorcycle helmet in his right hand.

  Before a scream could escape my body, he abruptly lunged forward and furiously swung the helmet, aiming it directly at my skull—delivering a thundering WHACK!

  My head snapped sideways, the bone-crushing blow rendering me senseless as I collapsed to the pavement.

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  I came to with blurred vision, a throbbing ache at the top left side of my head, and what looked like at least six human figures standing around me, staring as I lay semiconscious.

  “Alexis? Alexis, can you hear me?” a woman in light blue scrubs inquired.

  “Where… where am I?” I managed groggily.

  “You were found unconscious in the parking lot of your building by a passerby. Somehow you suffered a serious injury to your forehead. A bleeding wound. Only God knows how you got there. Do you remember anything? Do you know what happened to you?”

  “I… I vaguely remember running.”

  “What were you running from?”

  “Running down the hall… from my condo,” I murmured.

  “Alexis, I’m Dr. Norvesh Patael,” said a short, heavily accented man with a stethoscope, inching closer to the side of the bed. “We’d like to know who or what exactly were you running from?”

  “Someone was chasing me. He… had a mask. I ran to the parking lot. That’s… that’s all I can remember,” I slurred slowly.

  “You’re very fortunate your injuries were not more severe. You’re suffering from cerebral edema. There is quite a bit of swelling in some of your brain tissue, along with some nasty-looking lacerations on the side of your head and the soles of your feet. I’ve scheduled an MRI for you first thing in the morning. We’ll be monitoring you and running more tests to rule out any other complications. All things considered, I think your prognosis will be okay.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” I managed in a whisper.

  “You’re going to need some time off work, and the police will want to interview you to find out just what the hell happened.”

  A short and stocky nurse standing by quickly chimed in. “Alexis, I’m Frieda, the assistant on duty, and I’ll be looking after you. Don’t hesitate to alert me if you need help. We’ll let you get some much-needed rest. Dr. Patael will be ordering more tests in the morning.”

  “Thank you,” I replied as my eyes worked hard to stay open. Attentively, I watched each of them leave the room before nodding off into a deep slumber.

  I tossed and turned, then awoke from what seemed like a terrifying nightmare around 3:30 a.m. My breathing was quick and labored. My skin was perspiring excessively.

  I could still feel my attacker’s hand around my neck. I’d envisioned him standing over me, this time naked, wearing that ghoulish Hollywood fright mask and holding what looked like a twelve-inch knife in his right hand.

  Was it real? Had I been dreaming?

  Learn more about Stalked

  Books by Alex Dean

  Alexis Fields Thrill Series

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  Book 1 - Restraining Order

  Book 2 - The Bogeyman Next Door (Full length)

  Book 3 - Stalked (Full length)

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  Alexis Fields - Complete Thrill Series Box Set

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  Standalone Books

  The Client

  A High-Stakes Crime Thriller

  The Secret Life of Lula Darling - Sci-fi/Time Travel

  About The Author

  ALEX DEAN is the author of Restraining Order, The Bogeyman Next Door and Stalked. He is an entrepreneur, former musician, and somewhat of a health enthusiast who enjoys being creative. He writes thrillers as well as other sub-genres of fiction and lives in Illinois with his family. For previews of his upcoming books and more information about Alex Dean, please visit alexdeanauthor.com.

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  Word-of-mouth is crucial for any author to succeed. If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review, even if it’s only a line or two; it would make all the difference and would be greatly appreciated.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank God for His many blessings, a heartfelt thanks to my wife and my parents for their valuable feedback, my children and family for their love and support. A big thanks to my in-laws for supporting my endeavors, and many thanks to my readers for your continued support.