Thirty-Seven
THIRTY-SEVEN
VANESSA
My legs ache, but I relish the burn as I climb the short embankment beside the river. Marianna stopped by before an open home to walk me through the steps to buy my plane tickets, and Evelyn forwarded the details of the hotel she booked for us last night. The trip is planned and ready, but will I ever be?
I reach the top and pause, hands to my waist as I catch my breath. Fuck, I’m unfit. I need to do this more often. I should start resistance training again. When the anxiety eases. Maybe yoga would be better. The last thing my already overworked body needs is another reason to amp up the heart rate.
He wasn’t there last night. Or the night before that. I haven’t heard Chaos’s bike or seen any sign of Circus since we argued at the cafe. And it hurts.
We weren’t even dating, for fuck’s sake, but my soul doesn’t know the difference.
I miss him. I’m fucked up. To miss my stalker? The guy who strongarmed his way into my life? Love has many forms. The only fucking thing Abraham said that I agree with, although we still refer to vastly different things.
The farmhouse is easier to see from here, wide against the horizon. I knew it was a big place, but the people who built it must have had some serious money. Where did they go? What happened to them to abandon such a grand old lady?
My feet move through the long grass, intent set in stone before I question what I do. Nobody’s there now, but that won’t be the case much longer. I’ve always been curious about the house, but stepping on the property feels wrong, as though I violate somebody’s memory. Their spirit.
Pretty sure that won’t be the only thing being violated here soon.
I climb over the timber fence that lines the driveway and drop my feet to the dirt yard. Up close, it’s evident that the place has been neglected for a long time. Boards split, paint peels, and a film of dust coats everything. I couldn’t confidently say what color the house was originally; its weathered exterior blends into the palette of the surroundings.
The porch steps squeak as I make my way up. To my surprise, the front door is unlocked. Graffiti marks one of the interior walls, and the foyer is breathtaking in its size. A walkway runs around three sides on the second floor—a grand space to view those below. The staircase sweeps in a gentle arc up the left wall, threadbare carpet lining the middle of each riser.
Where was he when he made me the video? A glance at my left and right indicates that the lower floor is all living space. So I go upstairs, testing each room starting from the far left. The first few are small. Nursery size. The middle room, adjacent to the front door below, has bookshelves. What was once likely a grand library. Beautiful. The bedrooms are larger the farther right I go until I reach the last door and realize there’s no more despite the walkway continuing to the front wall of the house.
I soon figure out why.
It has to be the main suite. Spacious, with a window on each side and sconces installed on the far wall indicating where a large bed would go. Sure enough, if I position myself in front of the left window, I can see my house. And if I turn the other way… Bingo.
A shiver runs through me as though I passed through his ghost.
I didn’t bring anything with me. If I’d bothered to think about this, I might have brought some paper and a pen to leave him a note. Play him at his own game. I smile, a chuckle rattling in my chest at the thought. Who’s the stalker now? I could write something in the dust. But who’s to say he’d be the one to find it first? Or the house wouldn’t swallow my words before he got to it.
I pat my leg, the smartphone in the tight pocket of my gym leggings.
You’re crazy. Yeah, but Chaos gets my madness.
I tug the device free and switch to the camera, tidying the worst of my messed-up hair and ruing the decision to get hot and sweaty before doing this. What the fuck ever. Like he hasn’t already seen me at my worst in his little feeds.
“Guess where I am,” I taunt, holding the phone out before me as I walk across to the window. “You can see my house pretty good from here, hey?” I set the phone down in the same place he had his and back away into the middle of the room. “Where will you put your bed?” I gesture between the sconces. “Here?” Then, to where I stand. “Or here, where you can see my place better while you jack off to the thought of me?” A crazed chuckle falls from my lips before my smile fades.
Why do I like the idea of that so much? What is it about his fucking obsession that has me feeling secure? Safe.
Valued.
I snap back to the task with a slight shake of my head, tongue wetting my parched lips.
“Not that it matters anyway.” I frown, squinting a little at the dark clouds beyond my house. “I meant what I said at the cafe. The things you do…” I sigh, hugging myself. “They make the situation worse. This trip?” I huff a laugh. “It’s hard enough without poking the bear, Chaos. But I guess that’s hard for you to understand because things in your world are so different.” I turn a little, taking in my surroundings. “I can’t imagine what it’ll be like for this house to be filled with bikers. With whatever illegal shit you do. It’s a violation of sorts but also thrilling, and I can’t understand why I think that. Why does such a volatile life appeal to me when I spent so long getting away from one?” My nostrils flare with each breath, tears burning at the back of my eyes. “Why am I so broken?”
Fuck. I didn’t intend to get here, but it felt right to get my thoughts out. An alleviation of the pressure that makes my shoulders ache and my chest tight.
I dash over to the phone and kill the recording, thumb hovering over the screen. Do I send him this? It’s hardly the tease I intended it to be, but at the same time, it’s raw and honest.
There are things he needs to know if he wants to understand why I keep the distance between us despite how badly it hurts.
I attach the video and hit Send, closing the messaging app and pocketing the phone as I draw a deep breath. It’ll be okay. It always is.
With a last glance at my cute little cottage, I head downstairs and lose myself exploring the remainder of the home. Some remnants of the former owners remain: newspaper pages used to line pantry shelves, an old teddy bear on a windowsill, and a few pieces of framed art, the glass cracked or broken.
It’s haunting, and I can’t escape the feeling of being watched as I move through the rooms. It’s an abandoned old house. Totally normal. Also not surprising considering I’ve been watched for weeks in my own home.
The sun shifts closer to the horizon as I step out the back and spot an old shed to the left, weathered and on a lean, boards missing from the walls. The scratch of my running shoes is the only sound as I cross the yard to the shadowed building, darkness beyond the crack in the door. I reach out, fingers inches from the handle, when a terse voice has me swallow back a scream.
“You don’t want to look in there.”
I spin and come face-to-face with a guy easily a foot taller than me, broad and vicious in his sharp beauty. One of his. I scowl at the leather cut hanging over his sloped shoulders and seek out the badge on his chest. Treasurer, huh?
“Why not?”
He taps his thumbs against his hipbones, unsure what to do with his hands. “It ain’t pretty.” The vampiric fucker strides past me and jerks the door shut properly. “Used to be a kill house. Where they’d butcher the stock off the farm.” He turns his head and looks down at me. “They didn’t clean it before they stopped using it.”
“Oh.” I take a step back. “Fair enough.” Probably a good thing I didn’t take a peek and start making stories in my head about it then.
“I’ll walk you home.”
The fuck? I lift my hands, palm out. “Hold your horses there, buddy.” He may be one of Chaos’s men, but I don’t know this guy from Adam. “I’m perfectly capable of getting back safely on my own.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
I take three more steps backward from the gothic monstrosity and turn heel, setting a quick pace toward the driveway.
A second set of footsteps echoes my own.
I stop. So does he. I start, and he lags but does the same.
“Do you mind?” I spin and face the guy, angered that as fucking freaky as he is, the mess of black hair tangling in his eyes makes him look like some Victorian dream.
“Following orders, Vanessa.” He nods as though indicating I should continue.
I do, talking to him all the same. “Why didn’t I hear you arrive?” Surely, he has a stupidly loud bike like the rest of them.
“Look to the gate at the roadside and then track your eye right.”
I do, still subconsciously measuring his distance behind me from the sounds of his steps. Sure enough, I can just make out the handlebars of a bike over the long grass. “Any reason why you wanted to sneak up on me rather than just ride in?”
“He thought you might spook. Didn’t need you running away from me.”
Chaos. So he saw the video then, huh? “Why didn’t he just come himself?”
“He’s not in town.”
Why does my chest feel heavy with that revelation? “Yeah?” The giant says nothing, tracking me silently until I say something else. “Why not?”
“Can’t say.”
Of course. I stop walking and turn side-on to show that I want him to catch up. I tilt my head back to look him in the eye when he reaches my side. “What’s your name?”
He points to a badge on his chest. “Crow.”
Right. “Circus busy today?”
That earns a sly grin. “Can’t say.”
For fuck’s sake. I size the guy up again as I turn and start walking again. He’s six foot ten thousand and something—super tall. Broad and built like a bodybuilder. Blackwork paints his arms and neck, and I’d hazard a guess they’re everywhere else on his body, too.
“How’d you get your road name?” I peek at his face. “Were you named after the movie?”
“It was a comic first, but yeah, that was pretty much it.” He chances a quick look at me. “A fan?”
“What woman isn’t?” I chuckle. “A man who’d do anything to avenge your murder? Even in death?” I sigh.
“It’s not as easy as the story makes out.” His head hangs, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “It doesn’t fix the void they leave behind.”
How fucking similar to the goddamn story is he? “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
We walk silently the remainder of the way, Crow stopping when I reach my front gate.
“Well, thanks, I guess.” I shrug, then glance at his bike. “Has he got you on watch all night?”
“Does that bother you?” He tilts his head back to look at me over his cheekbones.
I shake my head. “Not as much as it should.” I draw a deep breath and unhook the catch. “If you want a coffee or something to eat, you’re welcome to come in for a break.”
His lips curl at the corners. “I don’t think he’d like that.”
I roll my eyes and step through the gate. “Suit yourself, then.” I realize Crow still stands there as I reach the porch, smirking. “What?”
“You make him happy.” He nods a few times. “I can see why. You’re suited for each other.”
Great.