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Once I’m finished with the drawer, I take off my jewelry and place the items in the small jewelry box, then pull the clips from my hair. I grab a cami and short set from the second drawer down and go to the bathroom.
Ten minutes later, I walk out of the bathroom with my wet hair wrapped in a towel on top of my head. I grab my phone from the dresser and walk to the kitchen, where I make a cup of chamomile tea and put some fruit in a small bowl from the tray in the fridge. I bring the tea, bowl, and my phone to the living room and plop down on the couch.
I grab a piece of pineapple with my fingers and slip the tart fruit between my lips. Putting the bowl beside me on the couch, I pick up the paper. I scan through the top stories on the front page and read all the current news. I’m several pages in when a picture captures my attention. My hands start to shake and pain lances my chest at the black and white picture of the old building. It’s the hardware store my family ran for years. The owners are set to bulldoze the building down next month so they can rebuild a new and improved building for a clothing store chain.
Tears slip silently down my face. The building is no longer mine, but there was comfort in knowing it was still there. I have so many memories of the hardware store. I practically grew up there. My parents had an old school desk in one of the back rooms for me to sit at and do my homew
ork. I remember the first time they let me help stock the shelves. I felt like such a big girl and was so proud that I was able to put in my time just like my parents. It was a second home to me.
I still sometimes drive by the store and sit out in the parking lot in my car and let the memories wash over me. I won’t be able to now. It’ll be torn down and replaced. It’s just a building, but it still feels like another important part of me will be ripped away.
I clutch the newspaper in my tight fist and with a strangled yell, I throw it. The pages break apart and it doesn’t go very far. Not satisfied, I grab my bowl of fruit and chuck that across the room too. It crashes against the wall, the few pieces of fruit left landing on the floor. I bring my feet up on the couch, wrap my arms around my legs and rest my cheek against my knees.
My eyes land on the picture I have hanging on the wall of my parents and me. I stare at it as the pain of losing them filters in and takes hold of me once again.
Chapter Eleven
Asher
I gaze out at the open field, my mind in turmoil and my body feeling antsy. I check my phone for what feels like the thousandth time, relieved I haven’t missed a call from Rex. My nails dig into my palms from balling my hands into fists to keep from punching something, namely the person who broke into Poppy’s house. The panicked look on her face when she thought someone had rifled through her dresser pops in my head. My jaw hurts from clenching it so tightly. It took pure force of will to keep from going to her right then. Even though I tried to reassure her that she had forgotten to close her dresser drawer, I knew that wasn’t the case. After watching her for almost a year, I know her habits. That drawer is always in pristine condition—I should know—and she always, always, closes every drawer. It’s a compulsive habit of hers.
That night, as soon as I hung up with her, I didn’t pack like I told her I was. Instead, I pulled up the video feed on my computer from the night before and watched from the moment I left and fast forwarded until four hours later, when some dead fucker broke into her house. He came in through her back door and went straight to her room. The bastard stood there and watched her sleep. My stomach churned and rage had my blood pumping hot when he pulled the sheet down her body, until she was completely bare to him. He stood there for ten minutes and just watched her. He had a hood on and kept his head down and away from the camera the entire time, like he knew where the devices were and avoided them. He looked to be about six feet tall and of average build. That’s all I fucking got. Nothing I can use to help identify him.
After watching Poppy sleep, he moved to her bathroom. There are no cameras in there, so I couldn’t see what he did. A couple minutes later, he came out and went to her dresser and pulled out the top drawer. He thumbed through it for a bit, until he pulled out a pair of panties, held them to his nose, then stuffed them into his pocket. Then the sick fuck proceeded to take out several pair and lick the crotch. Bile rose in my throat, and I picked up the nearest item on my desk, which happened to be a paperweight, and chucked it across the room. I now have a hole in my wall that I need to fix when I get home.
I was just getting ready to call Poppy and tell her to wash all the items in her drawer when I saw her from the live feed on my phone, tossing everything in her washer, along with a generous amount of detergent.
Good girl.
If it were up to me, I’d have tossed them all. After this week, they will be, and I’ll be buying her a drawer full of new bras and panties.
After the bastard got done with her panties, he walked back to the bed. Fury like I’ve never felt before had my body locking up tight as he got on the bed, carefully straddling Poppy while she laid naked, leaned down, and started sniffing her along her neck, chest, stomach, and between her thighs. His body never touched hers, but the thought of him so close to her made me want to commit murder. Several minutes later, he got up and walked out.
It wasn’t lost on me that the freak wasn’t doing much more than what I’ve done. The difference between me and him is the fact that Poppy is mine. I may have put cameras in her house and have done some pretty dirty shit myself, but I would never lay a hand on her in a hurtful manner or force her to do something she didn’t want to do. Besides brushing her hair to the side, I would never touch her without her knowledge or permission. I may persuade or coax, but never force. Even through the camera and miles away from me, I could feel the menace radiating off the man in Poppy’s room. He’s not someone that knows the limits, or would take Poppy’s feelings or well-being into account. He wanted to take her away from me, and would do anything to do it. He doesn’t realize who he’s fucking with.
With shaky hands, I pulled the live feed up and saw that Poppy was in the bathroom with the door closed. Once I was satisfied she was alone in the house, I called Rex. He’s a good friend of mine that owns a security and PI firm. I told him what had happened and had him put two guys on Poppy at all times. He’s called several times with updates. Luckily, the man that broke into her house hasn’t been back. Through Rex’s company and myself, I plan to find out who this guy is. He’ll learn soon that no one fucks with what’s mine.
“Uncle Ash, what are you doing out here?”
I wipe the thoughts that have my body taut and turn to face my niece. My heart aches every time I see her familiar face. It reminds me of someone I used to know.
“Hey, Kia Bear.” I hold my arm out and she comes over and tucks her side against mine. “Did you like everything you got for your birthday?”
She looks up at me with her big blue eyes and smiles. “I did. Especially the tickets you got me.”
She’s been obsessed with Maroon 5 for years. I got her and a few of her friend’s VIP tickets to one of their concerts with some of the best seats in the house. They’ll get to meet the band after the show. Her mom, Bea, another big fan, was excited as well because her and Owen have to chaperone. I paid a pretty penny for them, but it was worth it to see the beautiful smile on her face.
I kiss the top of her strawberry blonde hair and give her a squeeze.
“Have you decided which friends you’ll be taking?” I ask. The girl is popular and has tons of friends.
“Yeah, I think so. Mindy is my best friend and would kill me if I didn’t take her,” she laughs. “And I’m gonna bring Amy and Terri. The last one, I’m not sure yet.”
“Just make sure you stick close to your mom and Dad, okay? It gets pretty crazy at those things.”
“We will.”
She reaches out and runs her fingers along the wooden railing of the porch, a pensive look on her face. She wants to say something. I give her a few minutes to think it through.
