47. Breathing Down My Neck
SOUNDTRACK: Of These Chains by Red
~ brIDGET ~
I slept in the next morning. And when I finally woke, it was to four texts and a voicemail from Sam, growing increasingly worried.
The very real tone of concern in his voice was touching, and for a moment I lay there in bed and thought about what it would be like to be with a man like that actually cared. And was careful. Protective. Capable of violence, but holding himself in restraint.
I got a picture in my mind, and for a second it warmed me.
Sam, standing at the front of the church, preaching. And me watching. Examining those fantastic arms, knowing the tattoos that his button down shirt was hiding.
Finding him after the service. Excusing him from a conversation with a pearl-clutcher, then pushing him into a back room and fucking his brains out because I’d been waiting to do it for hours.
On one level, it was thrilling. A little bit naughty. And the mental image of laying, sweaty and panting in Sam’s arms, hidden from a very judgmental world… it felt safe.
But that was the problem.
The memory of the furious, adrenalized Cain stalking straight for me having just disarmed and busted up Ronald flashed in my head, and my entire body throbbed.
Of course, thoughts of Cain made me blink and remember the rest of what had passed between us last night. What he’d said. And what was going to happen.
Soon.
I swallowed and my heart jumped in my chest. It was happening. One more hunt—he would fuck me, finally. Then kill me.
And there was only one part of me that was sad about it. There was a lot more fear, but that was thrilling and…
My phone buzzed again. Another text.
SAM NOTPRIEST: Bridget, please let me know you’re okay?
ME: I’m fine. Late night. Just woke up.
SAM NOTPRIEST: Are we okay? I didn’t want to leave last night, but I needed to clear my head.
ME: We’re good. I admire your self-control.
SAM NOTPRIEST: I had to leave because of the control I lack. But I want to make it up to you. Dinner? Take-out this time. My treat.
It was so cute that he tried so hard. I wasn’t used to a guy trying when he wasn’t pawing at me and expecting sex. The fact that he wanted me to be comfortable and wasn’t planning to fuck me was a little disconcerting.
ME: Next week. Name your day. I’m flexible.
And I was. Because there was a very good chance I’d be dead by then.
Strange feelings I couldn’t quite identify twisted up in my guts at that thought.
SAM: Sunday at 7 again. Is that close enough to next week for you?
I thought about it, and decided it was. If I got to Saturday, I could always make an excuse and put him off. Or maybe, go see him. See if I could break through that self-restraint he was working so hard to maintain.
But then it hit me… if Cain was hunting that night, Sam might get caught in the crossfire and try to protect me. I didn’t want to be the reason he got hurt.
I’d just cancel it if we got that far.
ME: Sure.
I was slow to get moving that morning and found myself standing in the bedroom looking at that space where both guys had appeared last night—and the mark on the floor where Ronald had lain. Apparently he’d been bleeding, at least a little. It was just a smear, but seeing that did weird things to my insides and stole my appetite.
But then it occurred to me.
Shit.
I had to email Jeremy, because he was supposed to be meeting Ronald tomorrow, and if Cain had killed him…
Shit.
I hurried to the office and turned on the computer, trying to figure out how I could lead into this without giving Cain away.
My heartrate spiked through the roof.
My fingers were shaking as I typed in the password.
Sure enough, Jeremy had already emailed. But when I read the subject, my eyes widened.
---
FROM: Asshole (Jeremy Haines)
TO: Bridget
SUBJECT: Your psycho got himself fired
Val messaged me this morning. Turns out you were right about delusions of grandeur. This fucker got himself hospitalized and arrested last night. And she’s shipping him back to the East Coast. Turns out our friends over there were looking for him.
What did you do?
---
FROM: Bridget
TO: Asshole (Jeremy Haines)
SUBJECT: Re: Your psycho got himself fired
Nothing. I was an innocent bystander.
---
I had meant to be funny. It wasn’t until the split second after I pressed send that I realized I was effectively telling Jeremy that I was involved and nononononononononnooooooo.
I actually grabbed for the computer, like I could somehow stop the email sending. Then I cursed myself roundly.
What a stupid mistake!
I really was in a tailspin if I wasn’t thinking through the things I sent to Jeremy. What the fuck?!
My stomach sank as I stared, wide-eyed, at the screen waiting for his response, because he was almost always in the office now and—
---
FROM: Asshole (Jeremy Haines)
TO: Bridget
SUBJECT: Re: Your psycho got himself fired
Where the fuck were you when this guy was getting himself on Val’s shit list?
What aren’t you telling me?
---
FROM: Bridget
TO: Asshole (Jeremy Haines)
SUBJECT: Re: Your psycho got himself fired
I was making a joke
---
FROM: Asshole (Jeremy Haines)
TO: Bridget
SUBJECT: Re: Your psycho got himself fired
Do you think I’m an idiot, B?
---
FROM: Bridget
TO: Asshole (Jeremy Haines)
SUBJECT: Re: Your psycho got himself fired
No.
---
FROM: Asshole (Jeremy Haines)
TO: Bridget
SUBJECT: Re: Your psycho got himself fired
Tell me what the hell happened last night?
---
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!
My head was spinning. I didn’t know what to tell him. I didn’t know how close to the truth to get with him. I didn’t want to lie outright—he had an uncanny ability to sniff that out. But I couldn’t tell him—
---
FROM: Asshole (Jeremy Haines)
TO: Bridget
SUBJECT: Re: Your psycho got himself fired
That’s it, B. We’re meeting. We’re doing this in person. I’m looking in your eyes while you tell this story, because I don’t trust you anymore.
---
FROM: Bridget
TO: Asshole (Jeremy Haines)
SUBJECT: Re: Your psycho got himself fired
It’s not like that.
---
FROM: Asshole (Jeremy Haines)
TO: Bridget
SUBJECT: Re: Your psycho got himself fired
So, you do think I’m an idiot. Well, joke’s on you. I’m making sure that wingnut leaves the state tomorrow like he’s supposed to, then when I know he’s safely in the hands of our friends on the other side of the country, you and I are talking face to face. We can do that at your place, or mine. But we’re doing it. No more delays. No more excuses. No more bullshit. You’re up to something, and you’re going to tell me what it is.
---
FROM: Bridget
TO: Asshole (Jeremy Haines)
SUBJECT: Re: Your psycho got himself fired
Fine. Your place though. It’s weird when you come here.
---
No way was I bringing him here, right under Cain’s nose.
Which sent my head spinning in three different directions, because no matter where I went, it would be under Cain’s nose. And he and Jeremy could not meet.
Shit. Shit!
Jeremy and I went back and forth two more times—time, place, and his insistence that I actually showed up—then I shut down my email and stared at the computer screen, my heart pounding.
This was bad.
This was very, very bad.
If Cain caught wind of Jeremy… hell, if Jeremy got a sniff of Cain.
Either way I was screwed—and not the way I wanted to be.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” I muttered to myself as I opened the forum again and accessed my messages with Cain, but for the first time I wasn’t thrilled, or hopeful. I was slow. Reluctant. Resigned. Because it became very clear, very quickly, that there was only one way out of this that avoided allllll the drama…
---
***SYSTEM NOTE: CHAT ENCRYPTED END-TO-END. ENSURE ALL ACCOUNTS ARE LOGGED OFF BEFORE DISCONNECTING.***
DeadGirlWalking: I’m not being dramatic. And I’m not trying to entice. Things are happening here and shit is getting real. I need you. I need you quickly. And I need you to end this. Please, Cain. If you don’t hunt soon, I might get taken away and I can’t stress enough how critical it is that you do *not* let that happen.
---
I pressed send and waited, my breath rushing out of me when that little green dot appeared next to his profile name. I was so relieved I almost cried.
---
SleepingBeast: Stop worrying. Our annoying little friend has been marginalized. He won’t be coming for you again.
DeadGirlWalking: I know.
SleepingBeast: How do you know?
DeadGirlWalking: I know because you aren’t the only one talking to other people. Look, there are other people in my life—nothing to do with you—that are dangerous. And I can’t risk them finding out about you. But one of them is going to show back up in two days. Let’s just say, he’s very unimpressed with Ronald’s conduct. And mine for getting involved with him. And now he’s got a fire under his ass to “check on me.”
SleepingBeast: Bridget, what the fuck is going on?
DeadGirlWalking: I can’t tell you. But it doesn’t involve you. I just hope you’ll help me solve the problem. Because if you don’t, the day after tomorrow, someone else is going to. Except, they won’t fix it the way I want them to. I refuse to let anyone put me in an institution.
SleepingBeast: Why would anyone do that?
DeadGirlWalking: I’m sorry, have we met?
SleepingBeast: This isn’t a joke, Bridget. You’re changing the game. I don’t change the game. No prep means things get dangerous. What are you doing?
DeadGirlWalking: I don’t know how to answer that. I’m definitely not explaining all of this online. I need you. I need to see you.
---
I waited, biting my lip. But he didn’t send anything, and he wasn’t typing. With every passing second, my skin got tighter and it got harder to breathe.
---
DeadGirlWalking: Look, I’m not changing the rules, just setting a timeframe. I always told you I wanted this done quick. And I told you why. It’s up to you. Here’s the deal. I’m going to be home all day tomorrow. But if it gets dark and you aren’t here, then I’m going to the park. Where we met the first time. If I make it to dawn without you, then… I guess you’re saying no?
[SleepingBeast is typing a message…]
SleepingBeast: I don’t like being told what to do.
DeadGirlWalking: Then don’t do it. But I’m telling you the truth. You said “Soon.” Tomorrow is soon. Any day after that will be too late. Please, Cain. I’m actually begging here. No shit.
SleepingBeast: Is this fucker going to kill you?
DeadGirlWalking: No. But he’ll ruin my fucking life.
SleepingBeast: I need to think about this.
DeadGirlWalking: As long as you get your thinking done before midnight tomorrow, we’re golden.
SleepingBeast: What the fuck, Bridget?! That isn’t how this works!
DeadGirlWalking: If you decide to come and it’s the final time, can I see your face? It’s not like I’ll be around after to turn you in. I wouldn’t want to. But I want to see you. I want to know you, Cain. You’re going to be the most important person in my life when I die. Can you please show me your face?
[SleepingBeast has left the chat.]
---
I gaped at the screen, but that little green dot blinked out and I was left sitting there, willing him to come back. Willing him to not just leave me hanging like that.
“No! Fuck!”
Was this it? Was he leaving me for real?
I pushed away from the screen, shaking my head. He couldn’t.
He wouldn’t.
Would he?
I popped out of the chair, pacing the room, glancing at the screen every time I turned, waiting to see if he’d come back.
And he didn’t.
He fucking didn’t.
Was this how he took control? Leaving me uncertain, right up to the end?
Or had he actually bowed out?
And how the fuck was I going to figure it out in time if he didn’t show up tomorrow?
Fuck you, Cain.
Fucking fuck you.