AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. When you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss gazes back into you.
~Friedrich Nietzsche
Prologue
Two Years Ago
Sadie
The crunch of gravel beneath my heels echos against the tall pines shrouding the out-of-the-way bar. A solitary lamppost illuminates the seedy little building, shining a spotlight right on my target, as the softly muffled twang of country music from within beckons me closer.
I smooth my palms along my hips and suck in a steadying breath, feeling exposed. The skimpy red dress leaves nothing to the imagination—and no hiding place for my gun. Not that I would dare bring it. This circumstance requires caution, but also common sense. Still, the missing steel against my hip leaves me feeling more than vulnerable.
Exactly how he likes them.
A loud burst of laugher greets me as I pull the wooden door open, and a gust of cigarette smoke blasts my face. The smoky plumes waft and curl in the dim lighting of the green plastic lamplights. The smell makes my back teeth clench, the craving hitting me hard. I bite the inside of my cheek, wishing I’d bought a packet of gum. I push through, my gaze sweeping over the strangers seated at the bar top, standing around the five pool tables, and the one man stationed at a lone corner table.
He’s only slightly less out of place than I am in this establishment. Dressed in black slacks and a white button-up, his dark hair mussed after a long day, he’s miles away from the city in which he works. He could change his clothes before he makes his daily trek to the outskirts of Roanoke, but he likes the attention he receives from the girls. He’s not overdressed—just the right touch of sophisticated finery to denote he has a bit of money. Not enough attention to cause a ripple with the truckers; more of an air about him that states he likes to unwind from a hectic day with them. He’s really one of them. Accept me. And for the girls…he’s handsome enough. Reserved. Stoic. Polite. Even bashful at times. It’s not his first rodeo, but every time is like the first for him. He never gets used to it.
And they love that. Because he treats them better than any truck driver passing through, looking for a quick, drunken screw. He promises them a reprieve; an easy and maybe even enjoyable romp. I can see the girls at the bar now, fingering their hair-sprayed, teased layers, inching their jean skirts higher, batting their mascara-coated lashes his way.
He doesn’t even have to try.
That’s his farce.
Shaking my hair off my shoulders, I brazenly head for a table near the back wall. I can feel eyes on me, checking me out, hungrily roaming every inch of exposed skin—except for my chest. The dress stealthily designed to display my curves and flesh, while concealing that one, particular area with a choker-style collar that vees down around my breasts.
I battled some on whether I should leave my neck bare or not. It’s his fascination with the neckline that ultimately decides who. I wasn’t confident that mine would tempt him enough…and so better to leave it to the full imagination. Sometimes it’s what you don’t see that drives you crazy. Stirs the monster within to act.
Besides, I’ve been dying to wear this dress for him. The tight, silky fabric clings to my thighs as I saunter past his table. We both like to keep our backs to the wall, our vision unobstructed—a safeguard strategy for predators and prey alike. I can’t discern him watching, but I can feel his awareness of me, his arousal. I’ve studied his tastes. I’ve learned his triggers. I’ve applied them and enhanced myself to fit his selection process. And I’m wearing his favorite color.
Another thing we have in common.
In a dank and colorless room, I’m the brightest object—the one to capture your gaze and ensnare you. And that’s the mission. Become the bait, set the trap, and lure the hunter into his own web.
I’ve been coming to this bar on and off for the month that I’ve been stationed in Roanoke, and I’ve been here almost every night for the past week. I followed him here the first time. Watched him watching the girls. He chooses prostitutes because they’re easy to make disappear with little consequence. Though I’ve since learned he has much finer tastes—rich, powerful, domineering women—he’s disciplined enough to play it safe. That’s why I know he won’t be able to resist me.
I’m not just a working girl; I’m a wealthy, high-class call girl. An escort. I’m a bit risky for him, because I might be missed. I have a select clientele that probably includes members of law enforcement—but I’m also just too tempting. I’m counting on his need overriding his self-control. He needs to assert his power over me. Dominate me. Show me just how wrong I am for flaunting my audacious self on his turf.
I just have to make sure I keep his attention, and that means eliminating the competition.
As I take my seat at the table, a middle-age waitress walks up and crosses her arms over her ample chest. “Sweetie, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but none of the boys here are taking the bait.”
For an alarming second, icy pinpricks needle my chest. The fear of being made clogs my throat. “Excuse me?”
She pops her gum between her teeth. “Mostly truckers and a few lowlife locals. That’s all we have here. What you’re selling is too rich for their blood.” She scans her eyes over my silk dress. “And you’re pissing off the regulars.” She nods to a couple of working girls at the bar. “Why don’t you find a nice joint in the city to work?”
I catch the gaze of one of the prostitutes and earn a nasty sneer. You’re welcome.
Lifting a shoulder, I shrug. “I’m stuck here until I get my car out of the shop. It broke down. I’m just passing through.”
She smiles. “Well, if you want some advice—” she uncrosses her arms and pulls a pencil from her coiffed hair “—tone it down some, honey. You’re scaring the boys. They like to keep it simple. That means the price is right, ya know? Can I get you your regular?” At my nod, she winks and heads off to pour my drink.
As long as I’m here intimidating the locals, he’s not hunting them. But the waitress does have a point: I stand out too much. I wanted to entice him…not disrupt his routine. And I’m running out of time to catch him.
