Page 32 of A Haunting at Keystone Manor

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Alex

“Come on you piece of shit, work!” I slap the computer that has decided to freeze. That little spinning wheel is mocking me. “I have things to do!” Brandon really should be the one dealing with this, but he’s on break at the moment. I let my head fall onto the reception desk with a thud. I need a vacation.

A loud shout coming from outside startles me out of my moping. With a groan, I walk to the front door and look out to see what the commotion is, and what I see makes my blood boil. There is a huge, tattooed guy out there standing over Jake, who is on the ground trying to get back onto his feet. Oh, hell no. This is not happening. Not on my watch. I don’t even think as I hurry out the door and run up to them.

“Hey, get away from him! Don’t touch him!” I yell, and the guy looks over at me with a sneer. Jake runs to my side, and I realize this guy can’t see him. I can tell when Jake reappears, because the guy looks directly at him.

“We were just talking, isn’t that right?” He asks Jake in a thick accent as he wipes blood off his nose. Russian. I gasp.

“Who the fuck are you?” I demand.

“None of your business, shrimp. Run along and find your parents.”

“Excuse me? I run this hotel! Sort of. Keep your hands off of my employee!” I straighten to my full height, trying to look intimidating. He looks down at me and crosses his thick arms across his chest.

“I’d like to file a complaint then. Your employee,” he pauses and looks Jake up and down before continuing, “Your employee came onto me. I had to put him in his place.”

Those words make Jake gasp and I look over to him as he freezes, eyes going distant. I need to shut this down fast.

“Shut the fuck up, bucko. Get off my property before I call the police. If I see you back here, I’ll kick your ass myself.”

“You think you could take me?” he taunts.

“I know that I have a large manager with an anger problem and a shotgun. He did time in prison and isn’t afraid of going back.” Lies. I’m all bluster, but I don’t know what else to do. I ran out here with no plan, I just knew I had to get to my man.

He eyes me for a minute, finally coming to the conclusion that I’m not fucking around here, and he's not going to easily win this round. Not against multiple people and the threat of deadly weapons. This dumbass thought my man would be alone. Easy prey. He’s dead wrong about that. Jake’s not a fighter, but I’ll scrap when I need to.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender and looks at Jake. "I'll tell your father what we discussed. I'm sure it will go well for you. I’ll see you again, sweetheart, and we’ll finish what we started," he says with a wink.

“No the fuck you won’t! Over my dead body, freak!” I screech at him. He walks back to his car without a care in the world.

“What the fuck was that? Are you okay?” I ask Jake, worried. He’s looking pale and hasn’t moved an inch, eyes zeroed in on the guy as he gets in his car. “Do you know that guy?” He shakes his head. I hover my hand over his arm, not touching him. I don’t know if I have permission. “Please talk to me.”

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “He works for my father. Said his name was Sergio.”

“What did he want?”

“He told me he was here to take me home. He tried to drag me into his car when I refused. I broke his nose, I think.”

Good job, baby.

“He touched you. Did he hurt you?” If he did, I’m going to chase the Russian down and rip out his jugular with my teeth before bathing in his blood, size be damned. I’m running on pure rage at the moment.

“No, he didn’t hurt me. I, um, I’m going to take a break.”

“Okay. Whatever you need. Do you want me to come with you?”

He shakes his head. “I just want to be alone, if that’s okay? Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Go rest, I’ll see you later. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He gives me a forced smile. “I’m okay.”

He walks into the house without another word, and I assume he’s heading to my room. I often find him in my bed when he’s not feeling safe, and that makes me feel a million miles tall, like I can protect him with my very essence.

I’m furious that these motherfuckers keep terrorizing my man. I hope he’s telling me the truth when he says he’s not hurt. I don’t think he’d lie to me, but I’ve seen that shame in his eyes more than once. He doesn’t want me to look at him like he’s a victim. I just need to have faith that he would trust me enough to tell me if something was wrong.