by A. M. Myers
I whimper again, my knees wobbling, and Logan’s face twists with agony as he pulls me into his body and crushes me to him. “Shh, Baby. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
Reaching up with one hand, I grip his shirt in my fist, squeezing it tight as I sob into his body, and he whispers in my ear, running his hand over my hair again and again. The smoothing repetitive motion does begin to calm me but I still cling to him, my mind racing with all the bad scenarios that I read about after Mercedes told me to research stalkers.
“Come here, Kitten. Come sit down while I deal with this shit,” Logan whispers in my ear, and I grip his shirt tighter and shake my head.
“I don’t want those things in here.”
He pushes me away so he can look in my eyes as he wraps his hand around the back of my neck. “I know, Baby. But we have to close this door, and I’ve got to make some calls.”
I stare up at him for a few seconds before nodding my head. “Okay.”
He kisses my forehead before releasing me and turning around to grab the dolls from the porch. I look away as he picks them up and shuts the door. When I glance back at him, he’s holding them off to his side so I can’t see them. He smiles and nods his head toward the hallway.
“Let’s go in the kitchen.”
I nod, and he walks in front of me, careful to keep the dolls out of my view as we walk into the kitchen. He stands by the sink in the island, and I climb on a barstool, watching him carefully.
“I’m going to put them on the counter, okay?”
I nod and take a deep breath as he pulls the dolls up from under the counter and lays them on the granite. My stomach rolls, and I can’t take my eyes off the doll that looks like Logan as tears well in my eyes. In all his letters, Chris has never once shown violence or been angry at me but it hits me all of a sudden as I sit in my kitchen with tears streaming down my face that, quite possibly, it’s not my life we need to be worrying about.
Logan watches me closely as he pulls out his phone and dials a number before holding it to his ear. I tune him out, trying to think about all this clearly, but my mind is still bogged down by fear, and I can do nothing but sit here and freak out. Logan ends the call and dials another number, and I think back to the research that Mercedes insisted I do. I wish I would have paid more attention when I was reading but I was still at a point where I was dismissing all of this as not that big of a deal. But not anymore.
“Hey, Mercedes, it’s Logan,” he says, and my gaze flies to him. He’s staring right at me, love and determination in his eyes. “Not great, actually. I was actually calling to ask if Ali could work from home for the time being.”
I start shaking my head at him but he turns away from me. “Yeah? That’d be awesome. Thank you so much. I’ll tell her to call you.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I snap as soon as he hangs up the phone, and he sighs as he turns to me.
“Keeping you safe.”
I climb off the barstool and cross my arms over my chest as I glare at him. “You don’t get to dictate my life.”
“Right now, I absolutely do. I will keep you safe, Ali. No matter what it takes.”
“I’m not the one with a knife sticking out of my chest,” I yell, gesturing to the dolls lying on the counter, and he glances down at them. “Are you going to stay locked up in the house with me?”
“If that’s what you want, yes.”
I huff and shake my head, pointing down the hallway to the front door. “I want you to leave.”
“No.”
“I’m fucking serious this time, Logan. I don’t want to see you right now. Leave.”
He shakes his head and stalks over to me. I meet his glare as he leans in closer, hovering just above my lips. “Get over it, Princess. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Get the fuck out of my house, Logan,” I growl, anger spiking inside me.
“Uh… bad time?” someone asks, and I turn my glare to Chance and Kodiak as they stand in the entrance to my kitchen, uncomfortable expressions on their faces.
“Nope,” I snap and spin, marching into my bedroom and slamming the door, making sure it’s locked before I crawl into bed and silently cry myself to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chris
“Fucking idiots,” I mutter to myself as I watch the guard they put out in front of my angel’s house turn the corner and head back to the front porch where his equally stupid partner waits for him. Hopping the fence, I try to push down my anger because I only have twenty minutes with my girl before they make their rounds again, and I don’t want to waste it on any of these fuckers. It figures that Storm would call in his crew though. He’s probably got my sweet Ali under lock and key – anything to keep her away from me.
The hatred twists in my gut as I creep through the trees that line the back of her property, my heart pounding with each step. It’s been close to two days since I’ve been able to see her at all, and I feel like I’m losing my mind. My whole plan was almost shot to shit when I pulled up tonight and saw those criminals posted outside. I was so close to marching up to them and sinking a knife into each of their throats so I could go get my girl.
But I’ve got a plan.
Storm is going to know the hell he’s putting me through right now, and he’s going to know that I’m coming for her. Every day, he’ll wake up and wonder if today’s the day that he’ll lose her. That’s what my little gifts are all about. I feel terrible because I’m sure it’s starting to scare my angel a little bit but Storm is going to suffer for what he did. Each time he looks out the window of her house, he’s going to know that I’m coming for her, and his stomach is going to twist with the knowledge that he’s going to lose her. Forever.
I honestly can’t wait. The enjoyment I’ll get from watching his life fall apart will be unparalleled – until I end his life. In the beginning, I toyed with the idea of leaving him alive, making him watch as Ali and I built a life together, but in the end, I couldn’t risk losing her again. He’s in a gang, and no doubt he’s got connections that could make life difficult for me. So, I’ll kill him but only after he reaches his lowest point and wallows there for a little while. It’s a delicate balance. He needs to be in agony but not long enough to work up the strength to come after her. A smile stretches across my face as I sneak through her yard, imagining the depths of his despair.
Sweet, sweet revenge.
Reaching the back of the house, I creep along to her window, constantly scanning my surroundings just in case one of those fuckers decides to make his rounds early. That would be just my luck lately. When I get to her window, I peek in, and air rushes into my lungs as I suck in the first satisfying breath I’ve been able to take since the last time I saw her. She’s alone in bed this time, and my smile widens as I wonder why Storm isn’t with her. Well, this night is certainly looking up.
Thoughts of her captor are completely forgotten as my eyes roam down her body, over the curve of her hips, and down to her little toes poking out of the end of the blanket. Red nail polish covers her toenails, and I grin again, knowing she did that for me. She knows that red is my favorite color. I look over her again and again, committing her image to memory so that when I have to leave here, I can take her with me. It’s the only thing keeping me going right now.
My heart pounds as I press my hands to the glass, wishing I could be in there with her but I’m not stupid enough to assume that Storm left her. He knows I’m coming, and he would never leave her unguarded. Closing my eyes, I imagine that she’s back with me – under me – as my hands freely roam her perfect body. I miss the softness of her skin under my fingertips and the fruity, sweet scent that I get when I bury my nose in her hair.
With my eyes closed and my hand pressed to the glass, I let my mind wander. Leaning in close, I kiss her softly – letting her feel the depths of my love for her – before I take her hard, my passion controlling me. She lets out a little sigh as I slide into her, and
she and I both know that we’re home. She gazes up at me, love shining in her hooded eyes as I pull out and drive in, again and again – never able to get enough of my angel. I hiss when her fingernails dig into my shoulder; urging me to go harder, give her more because she needs this just as much as I do. Anything she asks, I’ll do. She gasps, her body tensing underneath me as her pussy clamps down on me, and I can’t hold back any longer, spilling into her.
Opening my eyes, I groan as my cock presses against the inside of my zipper. I lean in and press my forehead to the glass, my chest aching so badly that I consider calling an ambulance for a moment. Slamming my hand over my heart, I just watch her as she sleeps. I’ll have to leave soon, and it’s going to kill me to do it. I need her. Without her, my life is completely empty and each day is a burden. Waking up without her next to me gets harder each morning, and I honestly don’t know how much longer I can do it.
My anger toward the fucker that stole her from me only increases, renewed by my desperation for her. The only thing that calms me is imagining the look on his face when I take her back. Well, that and sinking a knife into his body again and again until he is no more. Looking back to my angel, I press my lips to the glass.
“I love you, Ali,” I whisper, hoping that she at least feels me here. “I’m coming for you soon, Sweetheart. I promise.”
With one last look, I pull away from the window and creep along the back of the house as I check my watch. I should have another ten minutes with her before they do their rounds. Maybe I could just sneak in and spend a couple minutes with her. It would go a long way to calming me down right now. When I reach the French doors that lead to her kitchen, I peek in and mutter a curse. The object of my rage is asleep on one of the dining room chairs that he moved right next to her door. Keeping a close eye on her, no doubt. His stupid mutt is sleeping on the floor next to him, and I know that I’ll never make it to her.
Fuck!
I want her back in my arms. The need is clawing at me, stripping pieces of me away with each day that he holds her hostage. The only thing that will calm this beast that I’m turning into is my angel. I have to speed up the process, get her out sooner, because if I wait too long, we both may be lost. Sighing, I glance over at her closed bedroom door and decide that this weekend will have to do. As much as I’d love to torture Storm some more, it’s not worth giving up my Ali.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Alison
I sigh, tapping my finger on the table as I stare at the blank Word document on my screen, and my frustration builds.
“Just write something,” I whisper to myself, glancing down at the letter I decided to answer this time. With another heavy sigh, I grab it and read through it again.
Dear Ali,
My son has been acting out lately – getting into trouble with the police and giving his father and I attitude. It’s nothing too serious with the police but he keeps pulling these little stunts to gain our attention, and we’re at our wits’ end. His latest exploit is that he told us he’s gay. Now, I am a good Christian woman, and this is not who I raised my son to be. I’m worried with how far he’ll take this to hurt us and that his soul will be damned to hell. We’ve talked about kicking him out of the house until he gets his act together, and unless you can give us another idea, I’m afraid that it’s what we’ll have to do. Please help us.
Sincerely,
Devout and Disgusted
I read through it a second time, shaking my head as I set it down on the table. This has got to be a joke, right? I’ve got several responses to this lady but I’m not sure that any of them are appropriate for an advice column. Grabbing my phone, I fire off a text to Mercedes.
Me:
Do I have any restrictions on this column?
Mercedes:
Nope. Write whatever your heart desires.
Laughing, I reply to her, already formulating my response in my head.
Me:
You may regret this.
Mercedes:
Ooh, now I’m intrigued. Can’t wait to read it.
Setting my phone back down, I crack my knuckles and smile as I start typing.
Dear Devout and Disgusted,
I’m quite disgusted, too, but it’s not your son who is making my stomach roll right now. It’s you. You say your son has been acting out recently, and yet, you never stopped to consider that his acting out was covering very real emotions, like fear. Fear that you wouldn’t accept who he is, fear that you would do something so drastic like kick him out of the only home he’s ever known. You claim to be a good Christian woman but you’re filled with so much hate for your own son, your flesh and blood. You want some advice? Because I do have a suggestion to turn your life around. There’s a children’s hospital downtown, maybe you should take a little trip over there and walk the halls, looking at all the children there fighting for their lives. Look at the parents with tears in their eyes as they beg God to save their baby, because I promise you, they wouldn’t care if their son or daughter were gay as long as they were alive. Then, go home, look at your beautiful, brave son who took a chance and revealed who he really is to you and apologize for the way you’ve been acting. Life is short and if you’re not careful, you’re going to miss out on being a part of your son’s.
Sincerely,
Alison
I read it over, feeling satisfied but concerned that I may have gone too far. I snap a picture and send it to Mercedes, and she replies back almost immediately.
Mercedes:
Savage. I love it.
Grinning, I grab a few more letters and start reading through them, not feeling inspired to respond to any of them. Opening a new Word document, I try to come up with a single response to any of the letters I’ve read today but I’ve got nothing.
The front door opens as I set my phone down, and I peek over my shoulder, watching Chance as he walks down the hallway and opens my fridge like he owns the place. Chance is quite a bit shorter than Logan but he is just as built, and his genuine green eyes and friendly smile fascinate me. You wouldn’t know it by just looking at him but I get the distinct feeling that he’s got a pile of pain that he keeps buried.
“You done staring at me?” he asks, shutting the fridge door and popping the top off the beer. He turns and watches me as he takes a sip.
“Sorry. I was just having trouble writing today so you were a welcome distraction.”
He walks over to me and pulls out the chair next to me, the legs scraping against the tile floor, before he sits down and stretches his legs out in front of him. “Why can’t you write?”
“Stress, probably,” I say with a sardonic laugh. He nods, looking at me thoughtfully for a second before taking another sip of his beer.
“Maybe you should go make up with your man.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn back to my computer and stare at the Word document like somehow the words will magically jump from my head onto the screen. It’s been two days but I’m still so pissed at Logan. It’s not fair, and I know that, but this whole situation is hard, and it’s even harder when he just makes decisions and expects me to go along with them. It’s my life and so much of it has been taken away from me. I should get some say.
“Don’t be so hard on him, Ali,” Chance says, and I turn back to him.
“Why not?”
He sighs, looking down at his beer bottle before meeting my eyes again. “If you know about his past, then you know how hard this is for him. He’s going through hell, and he’s handling it as best as he can.”
I open my mouth to respond but the front door opens again, cutting me off. Peeking over my shoulder, I smile as Izzy and Carly walk down the hallway toward me.
“I’ll let you all talk but just think about what I said,” Chance says, standing from the chair and nodding at the girls as he pushes it in and passes them. Carly’s gaze lingers on him as he stomps off down the hallway, and when she finally looks back to me, my brow arches.
“Hey, Car, see s
omethin’ you like?” I ask, a smile stretching across my face, and she shakes her head.
“Shut up. We’re here to talk about you. Not me.”
I laugh and nod, kicking out one of the chairs next to me. “By all means then, have a seat.”
“How are you doing, Hon?” Izzy asks, looking at me with a concerned expression as she sits down and crosses her arms on the table.
“Well, let’s see. I’m locked in my house because some psycho is leaving dolls on my doorstep, and I’m not talking to my boyfriend since he thinks he can run my life but he won’t leave me alone so we just walk around the house, not speaking to each other.”
“Ali, he’s just trying to protect you,” Carly says, and I nod.
“I know that but I wish he would just cool it a little bit. If he had just talked to me about it, I probably would have agreed with him, but he didn’t. He bulldozed over me and started barking orders.”
“Sounds a little bit like you’re taking shit out on him,” Izzy says, giving me a look. “This is hard for both of you, and there is no handbook. Hell, even the cops can’t do much right now. Maybe you should just cut him some slack.”
I bite down on my lip as I mull over what she said. “Yeah, you’re right,” I whisper, and she nods, standing.
“Then, our work here is done.”
“What? You’re leaving?” I ask in a panic. I hate being cooped up in this house, and I don’t want them to leave me yet.
“Sorry, Hon. We just swung by on our lunch break and traffic was awful. We’ll stop by tonight if you want,” Carly offers, and I nod.
