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I dreamed that he had found me and was going to make true on his promise. “You’re mine,” Dean said, “and tonight I’m going to show you.” That was the last thing he said to me before I ran away. He’d left me bruised and bloody presumably to go fuck some random girl, but he had made sure to threaten me beforehand. It didn’t take a freaking engineer to deduce what he meant: he was going to rape me.
I heaved, trying to catch my breath, my heart pounding in my chest. I’d stopped screaming. My brain was spinning as I tried to assure myself that the nightmare hadn’t been real.
Everything spun around in my head. The emails . . . Dean . . . the emails . . . his threats. I felt so out of control. For the third time in my life, it felt like my life didn’t belong to me. I grabbed the bedside porcelain lamp and threw it at the wall, watching it shatter. I screamed in frustration this time, not fear.
/> “Fuck!” I yelled. How shitty was it to be a woman sometimes? I could train like a triathlete and the bastard would still have an edge on me. Fucking testosterone. I had to rely on instincts and cunning, and sometimes that simply wasn’t enough. If he wanted to, he could overpower me. Easily. And he wanted to. Dean was fucking planning on overpowering me.
As I hugged my knees to my chest, throwing my own personal pity party, there was a knock at the door. I jumped and scampered to the head of my bed like a scared mouse. I cursed in my head, pissed at myself for being such a wimp. The chance of it being Dean . . . well the chance of it being Dean was actually pretty high. I held my breath, because that’s what you do in these situations, you hold your breath. That way the person on the other side can’t hear you.
“Lenny?”
Was that Vic?
“Lenny, are you in there?”
Holy shit! It was Vic. But then, who else called me Lenny? What was he doing outside my door at 3:46 in the morning? Yes, that’s what time my glaring blue clock said. I really should replace it; it fucks with my sleep.
“Lenny,” Vic said a little louder. “Lenny, if you don’t answer me I’m coming in.”
How would he come in? Oh right, he’s the landlord.
“I’m fine,” Was that my voice? It sounded really shallow and weak. Get it together, Moore! I cleared my throat and, like a bad actor portraying a tough guy on TV, lowered my voice: “I’m fine!”
There was no response from the other side of the door. I wondered if Vic had believed me, but then I heard the door unlocking. Shit! Shit, shit, shit. I scrambled to cover myself with sheets.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled. I wasn’t wearing anything save my bra and underwear. “This is totally illegal!”
Vic entered my apartment; the hallway light behind him made him look like some dark, fallen angel. “It’s not illegal if I have probable cause to suspect some kind of an emergency. Your screaming, coupled with the sound of breaking glass, gives me plenty,” Vic said, barking the words. He didn’t enter farther than the doorway, but swung his head around looking.
I had no idea if he was correct. I didn’t know enough about landlord-tenant laws, but you could bet your ass I was going to look up it up in the morning.
“Well I’m fine, see?” I motioned from underneath my covers, refusing to give any leeway.
“Hmmm.” Vic sounded unconvinced.
“Hey,” I said, suddenly very suspicious, “How did you even hear me? Are you like, spying on me?”
Folding his arms, Vic stared at me. “Hardly. I was walking down the hall when I heard you screaming bloody murder.”
“I wouldn’t say bloody murder,” I protested.
“I would.”
I glared at him. “I think you should go.”
“I’m not entirely convinced everything’s as it should be,” Vic said, looking around from his post at the doorway.
The apartment was smaller than I was used to living in. I had to downgrade because I wasn’t exactly expecting to go on the run. Most of my money had been invested in the condo Dean and I shared. The furniture we’d bought together, the car we’d been paying off, and all that stupid grown-up stuff. When I left, I left all that behind. Luckily for me, it was all in Dean’s name, so I didn’t have to worry about defaulting on any loans. Yay me. Still, that meant downgrading to a small studio in Santa Barbara. California is expensive living, man.
“Well, it’s not my job to convince you. Nor is it your job to be convinced,” I shot back at Vic.
Vic stalked over to me like a panther on the prowl.
Suddenly, I was aware that I had sat up, exposing myself. Sure, it was more coverage than I wore at the beach . . . but still I felt vulnerable. I was vulnerable. To be truthful, Vic was only looking at my eyes.
Vic leaned over, his face inches from mine. A rational voice in my head told me to cover up, but that voice was quickly smothered by what I saw in Vic’s eyes. They were black and demanding. Without warning, my lips parted as if he were sucking the oxygen out of my body. I gave it willingly.
“What happened, Lennox?” Vic said in a low and soft voice.
