CHAPTER 6
Frankie
“J ess, I’m fine.” I reassure her again. “The doors and windows are locked.”
A huff comes through the phone. “I’m canceling my date. You should not be alone tonight. What if that freak comes back?”
“Then I’ll call the cops.” Not that they’ll do anything. Calling the cops never helped when I was growing up. Why would it help now?
“At least let me drop MJ off for the night,” Jess begs. “I’ll feel better if she’s there with you.”
I roll my eyes. MJ, short for Mary Jane, is Jess’ bluenose pit bull. She’s afraid of her own tail and plastic bags. So, I don’t think she’ll be much help, but it seems to make Jess feel better.
“Sure! MJ probably misses her auntie, anyway.”
I can’t explain why I insist on staying in my house, knowing someone was inside it. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a house where I was always afraid, and now I refuse to be scared in my own home.
It’s not much, but this house means a lot to me. It’s the first place I ever felt safe, and I’m not letting this asshole ruin it.
An hour later, Jess drops MJ off and does a walkthrough of the house to make sure all the windows are locked and secure.
Lingering by my front door, she glances between MJ and me, and I can see the wheels turning in her head. “Maybe I…”
“Nope,” I interrupt her before she can suggest cancelling her date for the tenth time since she’s arrived. “I need the alone time. I have MJ and everything is locked up nice and tight. If I need you, I’ll call. Now, go.” I lightly shove her through the door.
I make some chamomile tea, and grab the book I’m currently reading before, plopping on the couch. It’s not long before MJ is snoring with her head on my lap.
I reach the first spicy scene in my book where Xander tells Skylar to get on her knees when a loud thud outside makes me jump. It’s probably the door to the old tool shed slamming open and shut. It never latches properly, and the wind is really whipping tonight.
I tiptoe to the front door, cracking it open, my blanket still wrapped around my shoulders-only to remember we never replaced the yard light that burnt out a few months back. Shit! I’m not going out there to investigate. Not in the dark. I shut the door hoping the noise was nothing when I hear it again.
MJ trots to my side, whining. “Okay girl, do your thing.” I open the door again, nudging her outside with my foot. “Go see what’s out there.”
MJ makes it two feet before tucking her tail and running back inside. “You’re no help.”
I hurry to the kitchen, grabbing a knife and rummaging through the junk drawer until I find a flashlight and some bravado before stepping outside.
It’s cloudy tonight, dimming the moonlight until its almost non-existent. The usual chirping of the crickets is silent. The night is still, making me uneasy.
Maybe I should call my big, nonexistent boyfriend, who just got out of prison, in case there is someone out there.
I hold my phone to my ear. “You’re only two minutes away? Perfect! What did you say? You killed five people today. That’s better than me. I only killed two.” I make sure to raise my voice for the last part. Maybe the supposed intruder will go away if they think I’m crazy.
I only make it halfway to the shed when MJ starts barking her head off. Fuck this! I turn around and dash back inside the house. Once inside, I double check every lock and look out every window before returning the knife and flashlight.
“I’m sure it was nothing,” I say out loud to help calm myself and MJ down. I’m just on high alert is all, which MJ is clearly picking up on. Maybe a nice hot shower will calm me down. Grabbing a towel from the dryer, I head to the bathroom.
I finish rinsing conditioner from my hair when I hear MJ whining and scratching at the bathroom door. I quickly turn off the water, wrap myself in a towel, and run to the door. I pull it open, and MJ sprints inside, nearly knocking me over.
“What is it, girl?” I nervously make my way to my bedroom. My stomach clenches, warning me to turn around as I walk through the door, but I don’t listen.
I stop dead in my tracks; paralyzed by fear. Why didn’t I grab the knife?
A large man is lying in my bed with his hands resting behind his head. A tuft of messy dark hair hangs over one eye. His amber eyes darken for a moment as he takes me in. Sitting up, he swings his long legs over the edge of my bed as he studies me.
It’s the same man from the bar the other night. The same man I spent the past few nights fantasizing about when I touched myself. Why the hell is he in my bed?
A thousand scenarios run through my mind, none of them ending well. My eyes dart around the room, looking for my phone so I can call for help. Where did I put it?
“Looking for this, little one.” Shit! He’s holding my lifeline in his hands.
“M-my boyfriend will be here any minute.” Taking a step back, I nervously pull the towel tighter around me, holding it in place.
Something in my gut is warning me to stay still; warning me not to move too quickly for fear of waking the predator not far from me.
“Shouldn’t your serial killer boyfriend be here by now?” He smirks.
Fear floods my body like a tidal wave, forcing me to flee. I turn and bolt from the room, nearly tripping over MJ on my way to the front door.
Heavy footsteps steadily approach from behind me. He’s not bothering to hurry. This is a game for him.
My shaking hands frantically fumble with the lock. It feels like an eternity before the door finally swings open.
Sprinting to the wood line, my heart pounds in my ears with every step. There is nothing around here for miles, making the woods my only option.
I find a deer path and keep running. Rocks and sticks cut the bottom of my bare feet, branches scratch my face, but I don’t stop.
My towel snags on a branch, slowing me down, but it doesn’t matter. He’s close enough to catch me anyway.
A low growl is my only warning before his hands wrap around my waist, pulling me backwards. My back slams into his chest, my feet unable to touch the ground. I kick over and over, hoping to connect with his knees.
“Scream all you want, little one. There’s no one around to hear you,” he whispers.
No! This can’t be happening. Think, Frankie. Think!
I once heard if someone wraps their arms around you, and you have no way to fight back, you should go limp and fall to the floor.
I turn myself into a rag doll, dropping to the hard ground. My towel comes undone as I use my hands to break my fall, leaving me completely exposed.
He studies my naked form, his eyes flickering between different shades of black. Our eyes meet briefly, and I swear something stirs in my chest.
Scrambling to my feet, I start running but don’t make it far. A strong hand grabs my arm, whipping me around. He picks me up, throwing my naked body over his shoulder.
“This is how you defend yourself? By falling to the ground?” he growls, almost like he’s scolding me for not fighting harder.
“Let me go!”
He holds my legs tightly against his chest, giving me enough leverage to straighten my body, so my hips are even with his ear. Thank you core exercises. I tower over his head, digging my nails into his forehead as I drag them down his face.
“This is better, but we still need to work on your self-defense,” he chuckles, nipping at my left hip.
I switch to punching instead of scratching, but that causes him to laugh harder. “I’m going to fucking kill you!” I scream as I hit him over and over until my punches eventually turn into slaps. I finally wear myself out, collapsing back over his shoulder.
He spanks my bare ass. “Are you done now?” he asks, completely unphased by my attack.
How is he so strong? I’m not light by any means, and he carries me, taking my assault like I’m a freaking feather. I’m useless against him.
“What do you want with me?” I yell, blood rushing to my head from hanging upside down.
Flipping me off his shoulder, he slams me against a tree. My head whips back, smacking against the hard trunk. The rough bark scratches my bare skin.
He grabs my neck and leans down, his lips only a centimeter from my ear. “Why, are you scared?”
The pressure in my chest feels like a vice, squeezing tighter with each breath. Of course I’m scared. What a dumb question. “Y-yes,” I stammer.
He inhales deeply, his eyes turning black once again. “You’re bleeding.”
“No shit, asshole! I just ran through the woods naked to get away from you.” Shit! Why do I always run my mouth when I’m scared?
The corner of his mouth quirks up. With one hand still gripping my neck, he uses the other to pull a leaf from my hair, using it to trace a path over my collarbone and between my breasts. “I can’t tell if I want to fuck you, or…”
“Or what?” I breathe out when he doesn’t finish his sentence. Did my voice come out breathy? Not now, hormones.
His amber eyes flicker with excitement as they roam over my body. A low growl emanates from his throat, looking at me with a sinister hunger in his eyes. It’s intoxicating.
Lust courses through my body, quickly followed by shame when I realize how wet I am. I’m so mad at myself for reacting this way. Why am I so turned on by this?
His gaze lands on my lips. He moves closer until he is only an inch from my mouth. Is he going to kiss me? Do I want him to? No, that’s crazy. Instead, he says one word and releases me.
“Run.”
I stand there in shock. He’s letting me go. Oh my God! He’s letting me go!
Relief floods through me even though my body begs for his touch. I ignore the brief flash of disappointment at not knowing what his lips taste like. I need to quit reading all those dark romance books. My stupidity is going to kill me one day.
I only make it two steps before he seizes my wrist, pulling me toward him. His other hand grabs a handful of hair, pulling my head back, exposing my throat. His hot tongue slides from my collar bone, all the way to my ear. Did I just whimper?
“Mmm,” he growls. “Now run before I change my mind and make you mine.”
Before I have time to contemplate why the fuck he’s letting me go, or why I’m so turned on, I run.
I don’t bother picking up my towel. My feet are torn up, and my body aches from fighting back, but I don’t stop running until I’m locked inside my house with a kitchen chair wedged under my bedroom doorknob.