Chapter 5—
Em
“ C an you turn that up,” I ask Drew, pointing at the small TV he keeps in the kitchen.
I recognize the footage of the news report about the young woman who was found dead right before I moved here. The same anchorwoman now speaks about the discovery of a second victim as new images flash on the screen. “Marisol Fuentes appears to have been killed days ago,” she relays.
“That’s correct, Susan,” the reporter at the scene picks up when the feed switches to an apartment building which is clearly marked with yellow tape, stretching behind her.
“According to the authorities, both victims show signs of having had consensual intercourse prior to their deaths.
But is that merely coincidence or a pattern?
“After the body of 22-year old Shelly Baker was found a month ago, police have been looking into ex-boyfriends as possible suspects; someone who is jealous or feels betrayed by her moving on. However, with this second victim, more questions about the motive and connections between the two arise .
“Did her killer know about her personal life? Had he been stalking her and lying in wait for her lover to leave? He might even be a scorned lover himself out for revenge.
“The bruising on their necks suggests the assailant might have been wearing gloves, and the DNA found under the victims’ fingernails remains inconclusive, so no arrests have been made, but the police says it’s only a matter of time.”
“What a shame.” Laura shakes her head beside me, a hand splayed on her chest. “I’m so glad you’re no longer walking home alone at night thanks to your gentleman caller.”
I stifle a laugh at the term. I have my car, of course, but parking is a bitch downtown, and the walk to my apartment is only a few minutes. Still, I’m glad, too, that I ran into Ash.
“I don’t know,” Jake says over his shoulder while rinsing the dishes in the sink. “Sex and asphyxiation? If you ask me, sounds like a fetish gone too far.”
“Seriously?” I stare at his back, my brows raised. “You think he got himself off by choking her?”
He huffs as though amused by my ignorance. “No.” He turns his head toward me. “I think she might’ve been the one who got off.”
“Boy!” Laura’s tone warns.
I cringe. “That’s sick.”
“What?” He shrugs, refocusing on the dishes. “Breath play is a thing, you know? Supposedly, it makes you come harder.”
I can’t believe my ears. “Who tells you this shit?” He’s too young to have that kind of experience.
“The Internet. ”
Now I’m the one to let out a huff. “Don’t believe everything you read online,” I advise him, removing my apron.
True, after four years with a boyfriend like Nate and his lack for adventure, I’m looking for more excitement when it comes to sex, but I’d have to really trust a person to give breath play a try. I mean, my life would literally be in their hands.
I step outside and don’t see Asher.
Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I check the time, even though I know I’m not early.
Dread prickles across my nape as I stuff it back into my pocket. Did he forget?
No. He promised. But maybe he fell asleep.
I shift the weight on my feet. I don’t know whether I should wait for him or walk home alone.
A screech like nails on a chalkboard rakes up my spine, making me cringe. I swing my head left to check what made the noise when my eyes land on him .
My heart punches up my throat. He’s ambling toward me, mask hiding his face and his pace almost leisurely as he drags the tip of his knife along the brick wall in a taunt.
It’s a terrifying sound. I can almost feel it, like claws ripping through my flesh.
For a moment I’m so scared I can’t move.
I swallow my fear, and my feet regain their mobility. Eyes on him, I shuffle backward a few steps before my mind catches up, and I turn to run .
My pulse continues to accelerate even after I round a corner, and he can no longer see me. The last time I tried to outrun him, I got lost. Am I better off hiding?
I duck in between two dumpsters and catch my breath. But I don’t feel safe. Tipping my sight upward, I check the roof tops for movement.
The alley is quiet.
I listen for footsteps and don’t hear anything but my booming heartbeat and the cacophony of traffic on a nearby street.
I stay there for I don’t know how long. I resist the urge to pull out my phone afraid the light of the screen will give me away.
My hands tremble. I’m left in darkness with nothing but my broken breaths.
At last, I dare to step back out into the alley.
I exhale in relief and pivot my stance when a strong arm snares me, pinning my own down to trap me in his hold.
I know it’s him. I don’t have to turn my head to see the mask as he cages me against his chest. I recognize the black hoodie.
Something sharp presses to the dip below my jaw, forcing a whimper from me.
“Shhh,” he whispers.
Despite all my instincts, his low voice is soothing at my ear. The swell of his chest is rock-solid but warm, and with his front pressed to my ass, I know he’s aroused by this.
A dark and depraved desire stirs in my core. I can’t explain it. And a part of me is ashamed to admit it .
Before I’m forced to confront my dilemma, his arm releases me. The tip of his knife stays in place for another second, and his gravely timbre reverberates in my ear. He growls one word:
“Run!”
—
I don’t hear him chasing after me, but I can still feel his breath down my neck.
He could’ve killed me.
His knife was right there at my throat, our bodies flush, and an unspeakable charge crackling between us.
The tingling sensation his hard contours stirred in me remains. Fuck! I liked the way his body pressed against mine from behind. I wanted him to take me like that. Wanted his rough hands on my hips, his cock driving into my pussy without mercy.
It’s wrong. I know it is. He’s crazy. Dangerous. And he’s been terrorizing me for his sheer entertainment. I can’t let him catch me.
I keep running.
I’m panting, cold sweat trailing down my back when the roar of an engine rushes up on me, and a motorcycle comes flying out of the crossing alley to my right.
A cry rips from my throat. I expect a collision, but he manages to brake in time.
Heart leaping out of my chest, I stare at him, wide-eyed, and it takes my brain another second to catch on. It’s Ash. I recognize his heather gray hoodie; it’s the same one he wore on our date. It has a skull logo on his left pec with what I assume is the name of the auto shop written underneath.
He flips his visor up. “Shit!” he shouts over the sound of the bike. “My bad. I didn’t mean to run you over. I was looking for you when I didn’t catch you at the diner. Sorry for running late.”
I’m so glad to see his face. I’m not even mad. “It’s fine,” I wheeze, grabbing my side to nurse an oncoming stitch. “But we should probably exchange numbers.” If I had known he was on his way, I would’ve stayed put.
“Good call.”
I draw another deep breath into my lungs, and his eyes narrow on me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” I huff, waving him off.
His scrutinizing gaze does a rake over my body, then he nods toward the helmet strapped to the back of his bike. “Hop on. I’ll give you a ride home.”
My head swivels to throw a glance over my shoulder down the alley. The rush of fear mixed with adrenaline is an utterly new high to me. It’s addicting.
I refocus on Ash. The thrill of running into my stalker makes me want to take a risk, and the words tumble from me before common sense can put a damper on my high.
“Let’s go to your place.”
I catch the glimmer of surprise and delight in his eyes before I unhook my helmet to climb on behind him.
“Ready?”
The engine rumbles between my thighs. He angles his head toward me, and I reply with a yep as I wrap my arm around him .
We haul ass through the streets.
I swear Ash is racing his own shadow the way he rides. Timing each stoplight perfectly, he swerves around cars that appear to stand still.
My heart batters my ribcage with the ongoing rush of adrenaline. I don’t know where he’s taking us, but we’re quickly leaving the busy downtown scene behind.
The drive is not far, though. After a few minutes, he decelerates on a long stretch of road flanked with single family homes.
No wonder he considers my living arrangements low standard.
Only I could never afford to live here. Not on my own. With a roommate maybe; once I got a better job than waitressing.
A garage door rises a short distance ahead. Making a stealthy approach, he slows to a crawl; at least compared to the speed we were going earlier. It’s the middle of the night, and he probably doesn’t want to piss off the neighbors.
He cuts the engine as we pull in.
“Don’t tell me you still live with your parents,” I probe with trepidation, removing my helmet.
Ash throws back a laugh, then shakes his head. “No.”
Living in a house instead of an apartment makes him appear so grown up. He’s too good to be true.
I notice that the garage is big enough to fit two cars, but has been converted to a workshop for his bike. There’s tools and painting equipment too.
Ash closes the garage behind us and takes my hand to lead me into the house. There’s a living room to our left, an open concept kitchen to our right, and a hallway straight ahead, which is what he tows me toward, peering back at me over his shoulder.
The hooded look in his eyes makes my stomach quiver. I know we’re both eager to pick up where we left off after getting interrupted on our date.
His free hand twists the knob of the door at the end. I assume it’s the master. We passed by a second bedroom that’s shut, and if Ash does indeed have a roommate, he must be out since there was no other vehicle in the garage.
Lucky me.
Ash’s room is tidy. Other than a very inviting king-sized bed, a dresser with a TV on it, and a lounge chair in the corner, there’s not much to it I can see in the ambient lighting coming in through the curtains.
He tugs me over the threshold and lets go of my hand before shutting the door.