Chapter 2
TAYLOR
Partying while my dad’s left in a puddle of blood . . . Not exactly what I’d call my ideal Saturday night.
And it’s all his fault. That tall, brooding, brute of a man . . . no, he’s not a man. He’s a beast. Savage and feral. Doing as he pleases, hurting who he wants, all in some self-serving ego stroke.
He left more than a lasting impression on me. An hour and a half away from the scene, and I still can’t get him out of my head. Has to be from the creepy way he stared at me. Studied me. Like I was the next victim on his chopping block.
I shudder at the thought of it.
Shudder, drink and dance. Expelling energy is the best way to clear my head. Moving and getting lost in the groove as the deafening music courses through my veins. Living like these shiny, happy people who don’t have a care in the world.
“There’s gotta be a hole in my glass,” Kim Granger says, waving her empty drink in the air to show me. “Keeps emptying itself.”
“There’s a hole, alright,” her twin sister, Mary teases. “The loud one on your face.”
“We’re gonna grab a round. Want to join us?” Kim shouts over the music at me. Barely audible.
To avoid anymore yelling, I shake my head. The night’s still young and my throat’s already raw. Besides, taking a break won’t do me any good. It’ll give me more time in my head, and God knows I’m trying to get as far away from that as possible.
“Your loss,” she hooks arms with her sister and the pair stumble through the dancers to the bar.
Alone. In my element. Strobe lights and neon lasers illuminating the crowd.
But as it drifts from one end of the dance floor to the other, someone catches my eye.
Tall, big and brutish, a masked figure stands still among the partiers.
I jump at the sight. I don’t even need to look long to know it’s him. The man who beat my dad to a pulp.
I step back, bumping into someone behind me. The sound of his drink smashing on the floor cuts through the music. Electric fear jolts through every muscle in my body and I turn away from the monster in the crowd.
That momentary distraction is all it takes for him to vanish. Like a phantom, haunting and stalking me. And though I try to find him again, there’s no use. He’s gone, almost as if he was never here at all.
The first sign of doubt sets in. After what I went through tonight, I can’t rule out my mind playing tricks on me. Seeing faces in the shadows to compensate for the state I left my dad in.
Of course, I know he’s home. Safe with mom. But how do you cope with what you’ve seen, when what you’ve seen is a matter of life and death?
I spin around to face the man I bumped into. He’s wearing a half-cut mask. It’s the snarling maw of some savage beast, and something about it works tremendously with his dazzling green eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” shouting over the music is a task in futility. But the stranger must’ve heard with how his eyes brighten.
“It’s really no problem,” he shouts back. “But I am gonna have to ask you to join me in a dance to make up for it.”
Tall and with a fine-as-hell body in a tight black shirt? I could do a lot worse than making up for my mistake with a dance. And if I’m not going crazy, and dad’s assailant really is here, I’m sure this guy will be more than enough to handle him.
“Sure, but you’re gonna have to keep up, bucko.” I grab the stranger’s hand and pull him closer to me. “I’m on a different level today.”
“That’s the only way, Doll-face,” he says, no doubt directed at my mask.
To add extra creep to the Halloween spirit, I designed my outfit around those old, eerie children’s dolls.
The porcelain face type, cracking and breaking the section above my left eye, while the rest is a perfect replica.
To compliment the mask, I’m wearing a thin, worn-out body suit with butterflies and flowers scattered across it.
We start dancing just in time for the DJ to flip songs and start something faster. The stranger and I move together, our bodies in mismatched unison. I sway my hips, dip low and brush up against him. His hands snake around my body, hook around my thighs and latch as he breaks side to side.
As far as dancing goes, it’s passable. But the intimacy and heat, that’s a whole different story. Not exactly what I expected, but it’s the perfect distraction from what happened at home. One song turns to two, and the twins return but keep their distance while I groove with the stranger.
A few more songs go by, before the music cuts and the DJ announces he’s taking a break. He puts on a playlist to keep the party going, but it’s slower and quieter than before.
Prefect, I can grab a drink and get to know the stranger a little better before we come back to the dance floor for his next set.
“Now that we’ve had a dance, how about I buy you a drink?” The stranger asks, reading my thoughts.
“Sounds good to me.” I’ve got nowhere better to be. The twins have found some fresh meat of their own, and it’s my turn to keep from interrupting.
We grab our drinks, beers and tequila, and head outside for a breather.
It’s crazy how a simple door is enough to block the sound from inside.
The bass thumping in the background is obvious, but otherwise it’s mostly calm out here.
Almost serene. The sprawling, blinding ropes of light, replaced by muted undertones.
Screaming at the top of your lungs to get over the music, turned to hushed, lazy chatting from one small group, braving the first drops of an incoming rain storm for a cigarette.
So quiet, in fact, I can hear my own thoughts.
None of them pleasant.
We find a table in the furthest corner, away from prying eyes, and drink the tequila shots standing. It’s bitter, disgusting, burns the whole way down, and exactly what I need. He grunts and groans, pulling a face that scrunches the exposed half of his face.
I chuckle, because there’s something awfully funny about seeing a man suffer at the hands of his own terrible decisions.
“You weren’t kidding,” the stranger says, falling into a metal chair. “You were moving on a different level out there.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I smile weakly. With half my face covered, and the other painted to resemble nothing but black, it wouldn’t even show in my eyes. “Need to get it out somehow.”
“So why not talk about it? That’s what I’ve found always works,” he pulls a second metal chair closer to him, shielding it from the fall of heavy drops beneath a wide umbrella.
If he didn’t seem genuine enough, I might’ve thought harder on joining so close to him. Hell, if I hadn’t sucked down my good senses with that shot of tequila, I would’ve insisted on being opposite him. Instead, I accept his offer, slipping onto the chair.
“So, what’s got you so down?” He asks, sliding back until he’s pressed against the boundary rail.
I watched my dad get his head smashed in by a caveman.
Nope. Not going to say that, no matter how fuzzy I feel.
“Family drama.” A pretty polite way of putting it. “Definitely not something I want to go into right now.”
“Can’t be much help if you don’t let me in,” he reaches for his drink. Raises it to his lips, but waits before sipping. “You’ve gotta give me something.”
“Or we could enjoy the night and pretend everything’s fine.” I do the same, spinning the bottle in circles between my fingers.
“We could.” His free hand slides under the table and brushes against my knee. I presume it’s a mistake, but when it continues to linger on top of my thigh my heart starts thumping a little faster. “And I’ve got just the thing to clear your mind.”
He squeezes my knee, soft but firm, to make his intentions known.
A tsunami of disappointment floods me to the brim.
This isn’t my first rodeo. Coming out more often than I probably should, I’ve swiped more men like this away than I care to count.
More interested in getting their dick sucked than being the hero that saves the day.
With what happened back home, it makes sense that I looked at him with rose tinted glances.
My perfect distraction from a situation I can’t seem to deal with.
But in the end, he’s just here to get lucky.
“I should probably go,” I say, inching away from his touch.
He takes a long swig of his drink, brow raising above his eye. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, I think we’re looking for different things,” I say.
I tug my leg to the side to free it from the stranger’s grip, but instead of releasing, he digs his fingers in tighter. An icy chill sprints up my spine from the dull ache of his squeeze. The light in his eyes fizzles out to a cold, deep stare.
In a flash, he’s no longer the man I met on that dancefloor. He’s as much a monster as the one from the restaurant.
“Relax, Doll-face,” he speaks in a harsh whisper, so no one else can hear us. Though, from my periphery, I can see the other groups have finished their cigarette’s and went back inside. It’s just him and me now. Alone outside. Where no one can hear me scream behind the wall of sound.
“This is the best way to clear your mind. Quick and dirty. Whatever’s got you down will be a distant memory when I’m through with you.” He releases his beer and his ice-cold hand grazes the skin on my neck while it snakes over my shoulder. “And besides, you owe me.”
Owe him.
That’s all it takes for my mind to sink into the darkest depths.
I’ve never met this man before, so how could I owe him anything .
. . unless he’s the monster I saw hovering over my dad.
The devil who has terrorized my family for months, for petty change that got us through the worst of times.
A horrible amalgamation of pure terror, shaped in flesh and bone, but molded in something far more sinister.
Could this be him now? Staking his claim on me, after my dad’s continued failures? Taking his pound of flesh in the most literal sense.
“Let go of me,” I say quietly. Voice choked by my own worries of what comes next.
“Why would I do that? It’s just a bit of fun, Babe. Relax. Enjoy it.” His hand moves higher up my thigh. Not much, but enough for me to know exactly where this is going. That I’ve fucked up. That even if the twins were here, none of us would be able to stop the stranger from taking what he wants.
“It’s not fun for me.” My body tenses, and I shut his hand tightly between my thighs before it can reach any closer.
“Oh, but you will,” he says.
“Let go of me,” I repeat, louder this time. Not quite a scream, but close enough that my voice echoes down the alleyway behind us.
I press my fists into his midsection and push, the way I had with the beast hovering over my dad. Unlike him, this stranger doesn’t budge. He remains firm, one hand restraining me by the shoulders while the other wriggles between my legs.
“Keep your fucking voice down,” he hisses, casting his eyes at the door. His arm tightens around my shoulders, the hand inching ever closer to my breast.
My heart stops. My mind erupts with all the evils on the horizon. No one’s coming to help and I’m alone. I open my mouth to scream, but the hand reaching for my breast moves higher to clamp it shut.
“Make another sound, and it’ll get a lot worse for you,” he says. Threatening. Severe. “And fast.”
In the midst of the chaos, I almost miss it. Someone’s whistling emerging from the deep black bowls of the alley. Quiet to start, but like the footsteps carrying it closer, the sound grows louder and louder until it’s an arm’s length away.
The stranger yanks his hand up from my legs, before his neck snaps and cranes to meet the newcomer.
Where I thought the stranger was tall, this new guy is gigantic.
Somewhere between six-foot-six and seven even.
A hulking mass shrouded in black, both from the dark which the light finds impossible to penetrate, and the coat that hardly hides his physique.
Black cloth covers the lower half of his face, and a tanned leather cowboy hat rests atop his head.
Though his eyes manage to catch the light.
Light blue, so close to silver they may as well be the daggers his glare sends toward the stranger.
And the fire burning inside them isn’t coming from the dim, artificial lamps hanging on the wall.
They’re burning from the intense rage even his covering can’t hide.
He continues whistling the tune I’ve never heard before, not stopping until he reaches a minor note that sets the tone for his intentions.
“I believe the lady told you to let her go,” he says, his voice matches the drawling cowboy aesthetic. Fake and forced, it somehow manages to make me smile, even with the unfortunate circumstances that led him here.
“And what are you gonna do about it, if I don’t?” The stranger pokes a finger into the Cowboy’s chest.
He glances down at it. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Before anyone has a chance to react, the Cowboy grabs the stranger’s finger in a tight fist. With an upward twist of his wrist, the stranger’s finger makes an ungodly popping noise.
The sound is followed by a harrowing screaming into the night, against the thunderous clouds above and the echo of the alley.
But the blood curdling screech is seized in the cowboy’s grip. He latches onto the stranger’s mask, crushing the plastic to muzzle him.
“Make another sound, partner, and it’s gonna get a lot worse for you,” he repeats the stranger’s words. Against the instruction comes a muffled cry against the Cowboy’s gloved hand.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The Cowboy releases the finger, replacing his grip on the stranger’s neck. He drives his face forward into the table once, twice and a third time for good measure before releasing him.
The stranger flops back in his chair, dazed, bloody but dead quiet. Heaving air into his longs, in the brief respite of the Cowboy’s onslaught.
The cowboy hops over the fence and walks over to my side. He offers me a hand. I take it. He adjusts our positions until I’m standing behind him, before loosening the umbrella and letting the rain wash over the stranger.
“What’s that for?” I ask.
I have a thousand questions, but somehow this small action seems to be the most confusing to me.
“Gotta wash the blood off the tiles somehow,” he says. “Might as well let nature’s shower take care of it.”
Just like that, I’m hooked to another man I don’t know. Something tells me, I should stick close to this one.
Not for protection this time . . . No.
But because my body suddenly wants.
And what the stranger could not satisfy, maybe this Cowboy can.