Chapter 13
Quinnly
Aman, a large one, bolts out from behind the canvases, knocking me down.
His hands grip the back of my neck as we hit the ground, flipping me over with amazing strength.
His knees straddle my hips and his weight settles on my thighs.
As his hands find purchase around my throat, he squeezes, and I laugh.
My shadow–the one I’ve had for so much of my life–is the ghost from the plane. The man I thought I’d killed four years ago in an old abandoned shack near the Hemlock Estate.
“There he is!” I rasp in delight. “My big bad shadow. I finally went too far for you huh, baby?”
His bright irises burn with emotion as his fingers grip tighter and tighter. My breaths come in short gasps as he decides whether to kill me or not.
I’ve been a bad girl after all, leaving bodies all over the country. Uncaring of any rules, I knew this one would bring him out of the shadows he calls his home. I’ve been patient, achingly so, while he plays his games with me.
His fingers are tighter now, I can’t get a breath to utter any more words, but I know he won’t kill me, no matter how much of a headache this may cause him. I can tell by the way his chest heaves up and down under his t-shirt, how his hands twitch with the need to snuff out my life but haven’t.
His control is on a razor thin wire, and my pussy throbs watching him battle his base instincts, a new feeling that’s not entirely unwelcome.
His obsession and his desire are practically oozing from his pores.
His nose and lip ring catch in the afternoon light and I blink, losing consciousness for a moment.
He leans down, hands still tight around my throat, but not enough to make me black out again, and rumbles, “You fucking menace.”
Shoving off me, he stands and I cough around my laughter. “You finally came out to play.”
He turns, eyeing me with his intriguing eyes, they’re light, almost like mine but green. His skin’s a smooth dark ebony, his hair in locs which he runs his hand through and his barrel chest heaves with big breaths.
“Do you want to get caught?” He rumbles, dropping his hands by his sides. “I’d ask if you’re insane, but I think we both know the answer to that question.”
Kicking my feet in the air with a giggle, I roll to my belly and get to my feet. Slowly walking over his way, I circle him, memorizing every detail that I didn’t get to in Gravity Hill.
“So, you’re my Shadow, huh?” I ask, more to myself than to him. He must understand because he just stands there and says nothing, eyeing me as I make my circles.
He’s a big man. Towering over me by at least a foot, his belly protrudes over his jeans in a cute bump.
But his arms, and legs… those are the real show stoppers.
They’re huge, bulgy and veiny. I want to taste him, cut him open and see what makes him tick.
He’s had an unfair advantage for years, following me, learning me.
His obsession is delicious.
“Have you thought about how, exactly, you’re going to get out of this one?” His voice makes my insides do a funny melty thing and I’m not sure what that means, but I push it down and attempt to focus.
He’s looking around, making a plan I’d guess, and I tilt my head watching him. “The FBI is useless, Shadow. I think you know this by now.”
His eyes widen and then turn to slits. “No, I don’t know that, because I’ve been cleaning up after you for years. I haven’t left anything for the FBI to use.”
My smile grows and I step closer to him. He smells like fresh rain and cool air, something that makes me smile. Familiarity at its finest. “Cleaning up after me?”
I know what he means because when the reports come out, things are not as I left them, but I want to hear him say it
He groans, it’s low and throaty, exactly how I imagined it. “Yes, Menace, cleaning for you.”
“I don’t recall asking for a cleaner,” I rebut.
He steps up so we’re chest to belly and leans down into my space. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be back in a room with four padded white walls, is that what you want?”
The mention of the institution I was wrongly forced into makes something bubble up my spine. “I had a great time there, it was like a vacation.”
He steps back, hangs his head, and says, “Cut this shit out, or the next time I have your throat under my hands, I might not stop squeezing.”
“So… you’re staying?” I smirk.
“Oh, I’m always around.”
“Wanna finally tell me your name?” I squeak out, though I’m not opposed to calling him my shadow forever.
“Not today, Menace.” With that, he disappears out the only door I left available for escape, and I turn back to the bucket of blood and balloons I’d found.
I’m going to finish what I started here, and then I’m going to force him out again, and again, until he has no choice but to play with me—or put me down.
I couldn’t very well leave the Art Man’s updated paintings in disarray, that would be rude.
So, I arranged them like I’ve seen before in other museums. They all face him, in a fun turn of events, they all look as if he’d strung himself up and twisted while he bled out.
The only way someone would know it wasn’t him is if they find balloon fragments, which they won’t because I picked every last one of them up.
Cleaning up after me… what a joke. I do a damn good job.
There’s a loft upstairs with a bed that’s probably got unwashed bodily fluids all over it, and a drawer full of cash.
Cleaning up in the attached bathroom, I take pictures of the body and send them off to Conall, I think he’ll enjoy this one.
The Art Man’s name had a star beside it, which meant Conall really wanted him gone.
I can tell by the state of his drawers he knew something was coming, I guess he didn’t anticipate a five foot nothing woman to be his demise.
Placing a swift kiss to Art Man’s cheek, I walk out, making sure to leave the lights on–no dead man could turn those off–and leave the door unlocked. Someone needs to find him, and the less I tamper, the less the FBI can find.
Conall messages back by the time I’ve gotten back to my hotel room. My clothes are neatly hung in the closet with plastic wrap over them. I love laundry service.
[10:27PM @HEM]
Outstanding
I know my Shadow thinks I’m not smart enough to know he has a tracker installed on my phone. But I do, and I’ve thought about leaving it somewhere just for him to find. But I’ve got a lot of stuff on here that’s not on my computer, and I like my things the way they are.
I’ve got to shower again, there’s blood in my hair, and I’ve got it under my fingernails.
Once I’m done in the shower, and most of the blood is gone, I draw a bath.
Sinking into the water I stay there until it turns cold and I have to add more hot before I make sure my fingernails are clean.
I forgot my nail brush, but the tooth brush the hotel offers works just fine.
Bubbles form in my hair with the suds I’ve lathered and I luxuriate in the feeling. Bleeding from my vagina for two days has really been inconvenient, so both the shower and bath were nice.
Sticking a tampon in, I pull on one of the larger t-shirts I stole from someone I don’t remember, and scoot into the bed before pulling my laptop out.
I’ve got some research to do, and this way I can order room service from my computer and put it on my expense card from Conall.
I order chicken strips, fries, ranch, and a lot of ketchup. The hotel’s quick, which is great considering this late at night I doubt many people are ordering food, and I dive into the hot deliciousness.
I’ve cracked the bank account of my next victim after about an hour. I’ve still got to travel her way, and I like fucking with them by using their own money. It sends them into a panic, and then they make stupid errors in judgement.
Women tend to be more level headed, but this one? I think she’s going to be tricker to kill. She’s been on Conall’s list for a long time, and I’ve got the perfect solution for her. Scratching off California, I snuggle down into bed, feeling sleepier than I have in days, and smile into my pillow.