Page 7 of Ruined Omega

“I know you worked for SynerGen before.”

Still I try to hide my mounting surprise.

“What are you talking about?”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” he says. “Not for a guy like me. I got connections, see? It was just a matter of pulling a few favors, running your picture through some face-recognition databases, and from there it was a cinch.”

“Do you like to spy on every woman you date?” I try to make my voice sound accusing; it mostly just comes out trembly and fearful.

“Ha!” Martin barks. “Don’t try to turn this around on me, sweetheart. Women always lie on those dating sites. I wanna make sure I’m not gonna get stuck going out with some ugly porker.”

I’m tempted to remind Martin about the mismatch of the pictures on his own profile, but I say nothing. I’m too nervous.

Exactly how much does this creep really know?

“But when I checked up on you, Shelley, I got quite a surprise. A former SynerGen employee who had managed to dodge the witch-hunts by hiding her identity. Real interesting. And I can only assume, based on the measures you’ve taken to hide your past, that you were deeply involved with SynerGen. What exactly did you do there? Not an executive, obviously. High level scientist maybe?” He smiles, seeing the flicker of panic cross my face. “Yeah, that’s it. You were a scientist.”

I don’t answer. My mind is racing. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins. Martin squeezes my arm tighter, and my thoughts turn to the cannister of pepper spray in my bag.

Martin’s eyes scan lecherously down my body and back up again.

“One thing you didn’t lie about were your looks. As a matter of fact, you look even better in person, sweetheart. A real piece of ass. It would be a shame for a pretty little thing like you to get in trouble with the law. But hey, I’m an understanding guy. I’d be willing to do you a little favor and keep my lips sealed.” Martin gives his aforementioned lips a long, creepy lick. “But I’d expect something in return…”

“Fuck you,” I whisper.

“You read my mind, sweetheart.”

Martin gives my arm an even stiffer jerk, pulling my front tightly against his flabby paunch. I struggle to pull away, but his other arm wraps around my waist, holding me tightly against him. His hot, foul breath hits me full force.

“Let me go!” I hiss.

Then I feel it. It’s so small I didn’t even notice at first. Something hard pressing against my crotch. My stomach lurches at the realization of the disgusting man’s arousal pressing into me.

“Come on,” Martin says, “You know you want it. Don’t be such a little prude.”

My first instinct is to scream, but I don’t. Screaming will bring the cops, and that will bring all kinds of questions. About my past. About my faked IDs…

I have to handle this on my own.

My free hand delves into my handbag, fingers scrambling for my pepper spray.

Martin, however, anticipates this move. He lets go of my arm long enough to swat my purse away. It drops to the stoop with a crash, spilling my belongings all around my feet.

“Stop struggling, cunt,” Martin snarls.

He forces his face against mine, trying to kiss me. I squeeze my lips shut as hard as I can. My stomach churns with nausea. I should have screamed when I had the chance. I should never have let Martin drive me home. I should never have gone on this date in the first place.

I go cold, trying to turn off my feelings toward what is happening to me, what’s about to happen…

But suddenly—mercifully—Martin pulls back, his face tight with concern.

“What the fuck?” he mutters.

At first I don’t know what the creep is reacting to. I assume he’s just pissed at my resistance. But then I hear the sound—a deep, menacing growl that gets louder and closer with each fraction of a second. Martin turns toward the sound, which is rushing toward us from across the dark street.

“Oh Jesus,” he whimpers.

I follow his gaze, and what I see there flash-freezes my heart.