Chapter 2
2
S tormy watched out the window of her house. There was a storm coming. Dark, ominous clouds stood off in the distance. As she stood there, she looked for any signs of someone lingering outside.
What’s the worst thing about a house that’s secluded? You can’t see what’s lurking in the trees. It was like being in a scary movie, waiting for an attacker to jump out of the shadows.
She hadn’t always felt like that. No, once upon a time, she loved it. As soon as she had pulled up to the property, she’d fallen in love with the property. She loved the charm and simplicity of the cottage. Loved listening to the waves crash against the shoreline below.
The cozy little home was the perfect escape from the hustle and bustle of living in the city. It was like a peaceful retreat where she could relax, unwind, and enjoy the beauty of the coastal views. The trees that hugged the outer edges of the property gave her plenty of privacy. Too much privacy, it turned out.
She loved sitting at her kitchen table enjoying her coffee before making the arduous drive to work every day. From the crisp white ship lapped walls to the rustic hardwood floors, she loved the place. Even if she couldn’t see the water from her bedroom, she could hear it when the days were nice, and she could open the windows.
Then things changed. It went from a peaceful retreat to a prison. For the last six months, she found herself the target of what seemed to be an over-obsessed ex. At first, she thought it was cute. He was trying to win her back by leaving notes and flowers on her doorstep or her car. Then things went dark. She started getting threatening messages when she went out with other men. Pictures of her with them would be left not only on her car windshield, but in her home and work office. The cops took a report and spoke to the guy. They told her he seemed genuinely concerned about her. And that they found nothing in his home that suggested he was her stalker.
Then the attack happened. Late one night she was woken by a sound. When she opened her eyes, she saw the silhouette of a person at the foot of her bed. The attacker grabbed her foot, dragging her down the bed as she struggled. Wrapping her arms around herself, Stormy thought back on that night.
Stormy’s heart pounded as she tried to steady her breathing, her body still humming with adrenaline. The room was a chaotic mess - furniture knocked over, the lamp askew on the floor, and the air thick with the remnants of the struggle. The metallic tang of blood mingled with the sharp scent of cologne, Paul’s scent, which now felt suffocatingly close.
She hadn’t been sure she could do it…hadn’t been sure that, in the heat of the moment, she would be able to fight back. But she had. She’d survived. And though her body trembled from the exertion and the injury to her face, she would not let herself break just yet. Not when there was still the sound of sirens in the distance, the hope that help was coming.
Her phone lay next to her. The screen cracked, but still functional. She saw the flashing red 911 notification and felt a brief rush of relief.
“Please, hurry,” she whispered, her voice raw from the screaming and fear. She kept her finger on the taser’s trigger, the tiny electric charge in the air buzzing faintly, a reminder of just how close she had come to being overwhelmed. She wasn’t sure how long Paul would stay down—he was a large man, dangerous even when stunned, but she couldn’t afford to take chances. Not now. Not when she was this close to being saved.
Her head swam with dizziness, a mix of the shock, the bleeding, and the lingering fear of what could have happened. She could still see his face in her mind—twisted with rage, hands around her ankle, the feeling of his weight crashing down on her as he fought for control. He’d almost had it.
But she hadn’t let him.
Her mind briefly drifted to Whiskey - had she been right? Had she given her this taser for a reason? Her advice had always been sharp, practical, but this was the first time she’d ever had to use something like that. She shuddered, thinking of how close she’d come to needing it for far worse.
Stormy’s fingers clutched at the taser, not sure if the feeling of power or fear was stronger. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep holding onto it—her muscles ached, her vision blurry…but she was done. Done being vulnerable. Done being afraid.
When the police finally burst through the door, she barely registered their presence at first, the flashing lights outside only adding to the overwhelming sensation of everything coming to a head. But then there was the sound of commands, of officers rushing toward Paul, and Stormy exhaled, letting herself collapse back against the bed, her heart still racing but her mind beginning to clear.
“You’re safe now,” one officer said, their voice low and comforting as they approached her, kneeling beside the bed.
But even as she nodded, even as the rush of safety sank in, Stormy knew this was far from over. The attack had been stopped, but the aftermath, the fear, the uncertainty... that was just beginning.
Once the cops had taken Paul away, Stormy had been brought to the ER where she received stitches to close the gash along her temple area.
Touching the scar, she wondered how long could it go on? Tired, she was tired. Between the unwanted admiration, the constant phone calls that were nothing but someone breathing on the other end. And horrible dreams of her being kidnapped and tortured. She needed some sleep. She needed to be somewhere safe, with people she trusted. She knew in her gut that Paul was behind all of it. The cops told her there was no proof he’d been behind the stalking. She filed a restraining order for when he got out of jail.
The trial had been a joke. Ninety days for domestic abuse was what Paul had been sentenced. What about the attempted murder or rape? Her lawyer had been an idiot.
Letting out a deep breath, Stormy picked up her phone from the kitchen counter and waited for her best friend to answer. “Hello stranger”, came the excited voice of the one person Stormy could count on.
“Hey beautiful, how’s my goddaughter?”
“Fussy. How are you?”
“Honestly.”
“Yes.”
“Not good.”
“Come to the ranch and stay with us.”
Stormy’s resolve was now clear and she was determined. She could almost see Whiskey grinning on the other end of the phone, the ever-present optimism in her voice. Stormy had been reluctant to admit it, but going back to Texas Creek, back to Whiskey’s world felt right. There was comfort in knowing that no matter how crazy the ride got, Whiskey would always be there, ready to steer her through the chaos.
“I’m coming to Texas Creek, and I’ve decided to attend motorcycles, mobsters, and mayhem book signing.”
“Motorcycles, Mobsters and Mayhem, huh?” Whiskey’s voice was a low chuckle. That’s your excuse to come to Texas Creek? Are you sure you’re ready to do the signing again?” She knew Whiskey couldn’t help harassing her.
“If you’re ready to do it, so am I.” Stormy kept her tone even not wanting to bring up the past. Although it hung in the air like a foul odor.
“I’m excited to do the event. Maybe we could sit next to each other.”
“We could share a table.”
“We could. Okay, tell me when you’re coming so I can make sure everything’s ready for you.”
“I don’t have the dates yet. I just decided five minutes ago.” Stormy heard the baby start to fuss. “I’ll let you go take care of Effie. I’ll call later tonight with the details.”
“Sounds great,” Whiskey said over her screaming daughter. “I gotta go, babe.”
“Kiss the princess for me,” Stormy said before hanging up. Stormy sighed, staring at the phone in her hand. She called Whiskey to be honest, to reach out. But the thought of telling her everything that had been happening in her life made her feel raw in a way she wasn’t ready for.
The clock on the wall chimed, letting her know it was time to head to work. Shrugging on a jacket, Stormy realized she needed to take back her life. She just didn’t know how to stop the merry-go-round her life had become.
Giving herself a pep talk, she grabbed her purse and keys. Stepping outside the door, she kicked a package that lay there. As it went flying across the front steps, the thing unraveled as it landed on the lawn. Peering down at it, she looked in horror at a dead rabbit. The poor thing had been mutilated.
“This has got to stop.” Taking out her phone, she dialed the local police. It was time for them to take this shit serious.
Standing frozen on her doorstep, she stared at the lifeless creature sprawled in front of her. The violent sight of it made her stomach twist. Who would do something like this?
It wasn’t the first time…no, this was the third strange occurrence in the past month. The dead animals. The strange symbols scratched into the ground near her porch. The feeling of being watched when no one was around.
As the phone rang, her eyes darted around, hoping to see someone, anyone, who could explain what was happening. But as always, there was no one.
“Police, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher’s voice broke through her thoughts.
“I…I think I’ve got a serious problem,” Stormy said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to sound calm. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. “There’s a dead animal on my front step. It’s been mutilated. And I’m pretty sure it’s not the first time this has happened.”
“Ma’am, are you sure it’s not an animal attack?” The dispatcher asked in a bored tone.
Stormy could hear the skepticism in her tone. After all, how many calls did they get about these kinds of things? Stormy, however, wasn’t in the mood to explain the strange feeling that had been creeping up on her lately. She wasn’t sure if it was just paranoia or something more sinister.
“No, this is...something else. It’s not just the animal. I’ve been getting weird things left on my doorstep. I need someone to come out. I’m worried for my safety.”
The dispatcher’s voice seemed to soften, it now sounded concerned. “Alright, ma’am. I’m sending a unit over. Stay inside. Lock your doors. The police will be there shortly.”
Stormy hung up, clutching the phone like a lifeline. She wasn’t sure who or what was behind the bazar things that were happening, but the nagging feeling that she was being stalked – watched - was getting harder to ignore. Every day it felt like she was sinking deeper into something dark. She just didn’t know how much longer she could keep pretending everything was fine.
She needed to get to work, to maintain some semblance of normalcy. But her mind was reeling with unanswered questions. What kind of person could do something like this? And why? Was it a sick joke? Or was something more twisted at play?
Taking one last look at the mutilated rabbit, she stepped back inside and locked the door behind her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something much worse was coming.