by Miranda Bee
Something about him was striking. His bright eyes were cluttered in darkness. He was a big man, even from the shoulders up, I could tell he was stacked with sheer muscle. I had been attracted to some of my parolees before, but I knew I would really struggle with this one.
I closed the file and put it back on my desk. I looked up at the clock. It was already five pm.
***
After I finished cleaning my handgun, I polished it and filled the magazine. I usually kept it in my gun safe, but I set it on my nightstand. If Charlie was dangerous, I would have no problem defending myself. I was confident that he wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.
I pulled my frozen dinner out, heated it up, and began to eat it. I sat alone on the couch staring at the black screen of the T.V. I never really watched the damn thing, save for a movie now and then. I noticed the picture on the top shelf of the entertainment center. It was a picture of my mom when she was young. She was smiling. She looked beautiful in a flowered dress. I wasn’t sure why I kept her picture up. She wasn’t a very good mom. Still, in that picture, she looked like what a mom was supposed to look like. It was a beautiful idea. I liked to pretend that she was someone else. I liked to pretend that I was someone else.
Someone who was happy. Someone who didn’t need to control everything. Someone who was free.
I scoffed, “I need to get out of my head.”
I threw the rest of my dinner away, just a few stray carrots that had gotten overcooked. I grabbed my wine glass and the box of wine and returned to the living room.
One glass. Two. Three.
Finally, I was warm.
I stumbled around the house, double-checking the windows and the doors. I was locked in and safe. I went to the bedroom and pulled out my pajamas. This was my nightly ritual. I picked out a silky two-piece set and laid them out on the bed. The top piece was a light pink camisole, the matching bottom piece were shorts. I always felt sexy when I wore them. Wine made me feel sexy, too.
“Hmm.”
I always took a shower before I put on my pajamas. However, a bubble bath seemed awfully tempting. My cheeks burned red as I grabbed a shoebox out from under the bed. I grabbed the half-burned lavender candle and my vibrator ‘Herb’. This was, essentially, a sex kit for a cat lady (only, I didn’t have any cats). I set them down on the counter in the master bathroom.
Just as I began to draw a bath, I heard a strange noise near the back patio. I quickly ran to my nightstand, grabbed my gun and carefully walked towards the patio. I didn’t see anything. Everything was still in its right place.
I slid the sliding glass door open and stepped outside, holding my gun close to my chest. I was poised to fire in any direction. Fortunately, the neighbor's disgruntled cat meowed as she walked by.
I laughed, nervously, “It is not your time to die, kitty.”
I walked back inside, sighing in relief. Charlie really had spooked me. I needed to calm down. Maybe I could use one more glass of wine?
I gasped when I looked up. I dropped my gun on the floor. Charlie stood inside my living room, squared off with me, holding a big wooden bat in his hand. He seemed bigger in that moment.
“I missed you,” he said.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Aw, didn’t you miss me?” he sighed, “You look so fucking sexy!”
I screamed, begging him to get back. He was too close for me to grab the gun. I’d have to take my eyes off of him to get. Either way, this wasn’t going to end well. Fuck it!
I swung down, lunging for my gun. I heard a loud thwack as the tip of his baseball bat met the back of my skull with tremendous force.
Blackness after that.
***
When I woke up, it was complete chaos. Strangers circled around me. A paramedic knelt next to me and took my vitals. The police were shouting at someone. I looked over at the strange man being tackled by the police. The police were pointing a gun at him.
I stood up feeling woozy. The back of my head hurt like a son of a bitch. The blanket had nearly fallen to the floor before I caught it, covering myself up. My stomach hurt. My face hurt.
“Is this the man who hurt you?”
Their voices sounded fuzzy. I looked over at the man with crystal blue eyes and shook my head.
The stranger in my home was very handsome and very familiar. He was so tall, he could easily touch the ceiling with his hands. I looked around the room and panicked. Was Charlie still here? My heart raced. I was relieved that he was gone, but not entirely relieved. Charlie got further than I was comfortable with. He had the element of surprise. That’s all he had. I would have fucking ripped his head off. I would have killed him.
I realized I was crying. I realized that I was outside, sitting in an ambulance.
“She has a concussion,” the paramedic said.
I lifted my hand to the back of my head, the searing pain rang throughout my brain. I felt the slick opening, blood gushing from the wound. I remembered that head wounds bled more than others. The pain was incredible, though. My stomach turned sour.
I threw up, my vomit splattered on the bumper and pavement.
The paramedic shone beams of light into my eyes. The strange man walked out with police trailing close behind him. His long beard and tattoos read ‘criminal’ to those officers. He must have been my savior. He must have scared Charlie away.
I pointed at the man, “Him.”
My voice was coarse and nearly inaudible, “I need him.”
The paramedic looked back at him and then to me, “You want him?”
‘You want him?’ The words had a double meaning for me. A rabble of butterflies swam in the pit of my stomach. I nodded. She sent the other paramedic over to get him. He walked over to me with a faint smile on his face and a hint of concern in his eyes. He was hard to read.
I didn’t say anything. I reached my hand out to his. Seeing my hand jut out in front of me, I realized that I was trembling. That was until he took my hand. Suddenly, I was grounded. I held on tight to his strong hand and focused on breathing.
“Please, don’t leave me.”
“Huh?” he asked.
“Please come with me,” I begged.
He shifted nervously, looking back at the cops and then back to me.
“Please,” I whispered.
I licked my cracked lips and tasted dried blood. I was terrified. I needed him. He was so familiar, yet, I knew I’d never met him before.
He smiled, crow’s feet forming at the corners of his eyes. When his smile fell, the bags under his eyes became more prominent. He looked insane when he wasn’t smiling. He was dangerous, somehow. He leaned down, his beard tickling my bare shoulder.
“I can come with you, love. Don’t worry.”
His voice sent shivers down my spine. His voice was deep and full. His words were spoken with articulation, as though he’d thought each one through carefully.
He sat next to me in the ambulance, holding my hand. I observed him more carefully. He kept his head shaved. His arms were covered with intricate tattoos of roses and skulls. Jesus fucking Christ, I’d just been assaulted, and all I could think of was this man mounting me right here in the ambulance. Something about him was drawing me, like a moth to a flame.
***
You know how when you are having a really good dream, and then you suddenly wake up? You are fucking pissed and just want to go back to sleep? That shit sucks.
MaryAnn sat next to me watching me eat green Jell-O. I sat the cup down and left the spoon in my mouth. I flicked it back and forth between my lips.
“So, Charlie is going to fucking die, if I find him,” she said.
“Leave him for me,” I mumbled.
She laughed, “Glad to see your pilot light is still lit.”
I nodded, “He caught me off guard. That was his only advantage. It won’t happen again.”
“Fucking bastard,” she said, “So, he just took off then?”
“I think… I think he was scared away.”
“How? Who?” she asked, grabbing the turkey sandwich off my plate.
“The man. There was a man.”
“A man?”
I nodded, “He was so familiar. He was walking by and he… He must have scared him away. He’s the one who called 911.”
“Oh, that’s lucky.”
“Too lucky. I mean, Jesus, MaryAnn, you should have seen this guy. He was –“
“What?”
“He was so fucking hot. I feel like a complete idiot saying so, but damn. Anyway, he really looked familiar. I think I’ve seen him from somewhere. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“Well,” she grinned, “Where is he now?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “he held my hand in the ambulance. I fell asleep or passed out. When I woke up, you were hunched over my bed, eyeballing my lunch.”
She grinned, embarrassed.
“I didn’t touch it,” her voice was garbled by my turkey sandwich, “Not until you gave me permission, that is.”
She smiled.
I laughed, which hurt my ribs.
“Thanks,” I said.
“That’s what friends are for,” she shrugged.
Friends. I had a friend. Like an honest to god, legit friend. It was nice.
Suddenly, I realized who the person was.
“Holy shit!” I groaned.
“What?!”
“I know who the guy is. It’s one of my new parolees. We are supposed to have our first meeting next week.”
“Damn… That is a bizarre coincidence. What are the odds he would show up at your apartment? It’s like fate!”
I nodded, “Yeah.”
Chapter 6
Devin “The Devil” Winchester
“You can actually use that,” Mathias said, pacing the office.
We were in brainstorming mode. It had been a week since I fucked up my first job out of prison. Maybe it wasn’t my fault? I wasn’t able to take care of Adam, and The Snakes saw me attempting to beat the shit out of him in their territory. Beating Adam, with so many witnesses, could send me back to prison. Mathias thought the fact that I was on the other side of town, helping save a woman who’d just been assaulted would look good if Adam tried to pursue charges.
“Not to mention, you’ve got two paramedics and two police officers who have already written your name down on statements. Even if they wanted to deny that you were there, they couldn’t. There is paperwork,” he grinned, “you are one lucky bastard. Also, you could easily say that The Snakes have always had a personal vendetta against The Sons. I mean, it’s all true. Most of it, anyway.”
I sighed, “Man, that woman was really banged up. I feel bad for her.”
“Well, it sounds like she’s going to make it. So, you really did help her.”
I smiled, “Thanks. I hope she’ll be okay. Anyway, what are we going to do about Adam?”
“Nothing, for now. We need to lay low and gather some intel. I’ve got some contacts who have done contracted work with The Snakes. If I get them inside and have them sniff around, we’ll figure out what they are up to.”
“You don’t think someone set me up?” I asked, “I mean, they knew I would be there. They were waiting. I’m worried that we might have a rat.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, I know it looks suspicious. Especially with Oliver being killed. It could be that they were just lucky that time.”
I shifted in my chair, “I don’t know.”
“Let me handle it, okay? Anyway, you need to act like you normally would. Go get your new keys. Go meet your parole officer. Lay low. Take a few days off. Okay?”
I nodded, “I got it, boss.”
I was super fucking excited about my apartment. It was a two-story loft apartment with huge bay windows and hardwood floors. Beats the shit out of the cement cell I spent the last three years in, shitting and thinking. It was already furnished, too. Mathias had set me up with the agent. I got hooked up.
Once I got my keys, I hauled all my shit in two duffle bags and dropped them off at the apartment. I was already running late. The word was that my parole officer, who’d crossed paths with a few patched members of The Sons a time or two, was a real hard ass. Apparently, she was as cold as ice but hotter than shit. Officer Wood might not appreciate tardiness.
“Maybe she can spank me,” I laughed to myself as I hopped on my bike.
It took me all of ten minutes to get through town and to her office. Of course, I had to run a few red lights and take a few shortcuts.
I pulled over and parked my bike in the side parking lot next to the building. I made it on time.
I sat in the lobby looking at a worn copy of ‘Good Housekeeping’. They had a ten-page editorial all about doilies. Fuck me!
I tossed the magazine back on the counter and crossed my leg over my knee. Every so often, the receptionist would look up at me from behind the counter. I decided to mess with her by staring at her until she looked up again. Her furrowed brow and blushed cheeks gave it all away. I waved at her, and she quickly looked back down.
My ankle wagged impatiently. After this appointment, I’d get to go home and relax for a few days. I had only been out of jail for a month, and things were already chaotic. I was looking forward to some quiet time. I planned on reading a few books I’d picked up from Mathias. He was really into the Norse religion and a legendary Viking named Ragnar. Ragnar was this insanely brutal Viking king who was the father of the Heathen Army. He, most likely, didn’t really exist. I was interested in reading the theories about that.
Finally, the receptionist cleared her throat, “Um, Mr. Winchester, Officer Wood will see you now.”
I stroked my beard, pensively. Finally, I stood up and shoved my hands in my pockets. My eyes narrowed on the woman, my lips pursed. I walked towards her. Her hands trembled in fear. She extended my paperwork out towards me. I grabbed it and smiled.
“Thank you, ma’am. Have a lovely day.”
She smiled, her cheeks blushing again, “Thank you, sir.”
I strolled through the door with the numbers “213” printed on the brushed glass. When I looked at Officer Wood, my mouth dropped. It was the woman from the other night. She was still a little dinged up, most of her bruises and scrapes had healed. Still, she was insanely hot. She had thick dark hair, straightened and glossy.
She stood up and walked over to me, extending her hand. She was wearing a tight black skirt and a matching sheer top. She looked like a gothic version of a woman from the 1940’s. Almost pin-up style, but more reserved and certainly darker. Her thick, satin looking lips curled up at their corners. She was wearing fire-truck red lipstick that made her green eyes seem greener.
“Hello. I’m Officer Wood. Pleased to meet you, Devin.”
“I,” I stammered, “I think we, um, I think we met. Do you remember me? I found you in your apartment.”
“I thought you looked familiar,” her voice trailed off as she returned to her desk, “Please have a seat.”
“You didn’t know it was me who was coming to see you?”
She looked up from her paperwork and searched my eyes, pensively. Finally, she sighed. She folded her hands on her desk and frowned.
“Listen, that night was crazy. Also, yes, I may have looked at a copy of your mug shot. You must understand, I see so many faces throughout the day. After a while, they all blend together. I’m sorry,” she leaned back in her chair and paused, “What I’m more concerned with is your case and how to help you adjust.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you are doing better,” I grumbled.
She pursed her lips, “I suppose you want a ‘thank you’. First, just know that I can be one tough bitch. Don’t think you can fuck with me simply because you saw me in that… state. I will mop the floor with you if you try anything stupid.”
“God damn…” I muttered.
“So, now that that is out of the way: Thank you.”
Just as I spoke, another woman burst through the door and interrupted me.
“Holy shit, Sammy! They brought the doughnuts with the bits of bacon in the frosting. Bacon and chocolate, damn it! Get your shit and,” she paused, “Why are you all dressed up? You look hot, mama!”
The woman peered around the door and saw me sitting on the little couch against the back wall.
She paused looking at me, then back to Officer Wood, “Ohhh,”
“Yeah,” Officer Wood said dryly.
“I’ll save you one,” she whispered.
Once the door was closed again, Officer Wood sighed. She was thumbing through my file, trying to find where she was. God damn, I have never seen a woman as sexy as her. Plus, I liked the way she threatened me. She was a little firecracker. That wasn’t the right word. She was an atomic bomb. I wondered what kind of havoc she would wreak if she ever let it go.
So, of course, I had to poke around and search for the nuclear codes.
“So, Sammy, who’d you get all dolled up for?” I grinned.
“I know you did not just call me Sammy.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you look fantastic.”
She looked back down at her paperwork, her pale cheeks blossoming like roses, “That’s two, Mr. Winchester.”
“What do I win if we get to three?”
“Oh honey, you don’t win anything. I win… Your balls, in my trophy case. Yeah. Trust me, Mr. Winchester, 9 times out of 10, I win.”
That shut me up real quick. Not because her threats scared me. If anything, they turned me on. It was the fact that she said, ‘9 out of 10’. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was referring to the night that I found her. She lost once. It bothered her. She kept a real strong front, but I could see that whatever had happened to her got into her head. She did seem like a strong woman. I wanted to ask who Charlie was.
Maybe an ex-boyfriend? Maybe some dip-shit who wouldn’t take no for an answer. I felt the rage swell. I swallowed it down. I pulled a folded sheet of paper out of my pocket and handed it to her.
