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OAKLEY
MyhandsshakeasI stand out on the street in front of my apartment complex on Wednesday night. I’ve just finished a long shift at Danny’s Bar, and as expected for a Wednesday, my tips were shit. Though at least I didn’t have four sets of eyes watching me all night like the rest of the week. Standing out here in the cold, I now know why.
There’s one hell of a party going on inside, and I’d bet every dollar of my shitty tips that the four assholes responsible are the very same assholes who’ve been making my time in Faders Bay a living hell.
College students spill out into the street, and the noise is insane. But hell, these are our college years, right? It’s all about parties, sex, and rock and roll. If it weren’t, these prime years of our lives would be considered nothing but a failure . . . you know, excluding the degree we’re all tirelessly working toward.
I’ve spent the past few days doing everything in my power to try and avoid running into any of my neighbors. I stalk the hallway on a regular basis, always checking when the coast is clear before needing to slip out. I’ve seen Dalton once, standing at the end of the hallway, just watching me as I left for classes. He didn’t say a word, and I sure as fuck didn’t either. But I felt the heaviness of those bright blue eyes tracking my every step.
The other three are a little different.
Zade has shown up at the bar, silently sitting in the corner, watching me like the creep he is, while Sawyer just happens to be taking the same classes. Cross seems . . . different. He hasn’t openly stalked me in the same way his friends have, but I still feel him watching—him and that little black snake of his.
Tonight feels like a trap.
I’m probably thinking too much into this. Cara warned me my first day that the neighbors like to throw parties, and I’m sure this is probably just like the rest of them. Only the thought of walking in there and making my way down the hall scares the shit out of me. They could be hiding in any of the open apartments, ready to jump out at me and drag me back into the crowd. No one would even notice.
My hands shake as I try to peer through the bodies, looking out for . . . everything. I want to know exactly where they are, just how many bodies I need to get through before reaching my apartment, where Cara is, and just how loud I’ll have to scream before someone might hear me.
I should have stayed at the bar and offered to close for Heather, but she insisted she had it under control and sent me home. I’ll never agree to that shit again.
For a moment, I consider breaking in through my bedroom window, but the more I think about it, the more ridiculous it sounds. So instead, I find the balls I clearly dropped and hold my head high. It’s now or never, and there’s no way in hell I’m about to let these assholes get the best of me. Besides, it’s just a party. What could really go wrong?
Pushing through the bodies, I make my way inside the main door and into the hallway, and in this confined space, the music seems so much louder. People barge past me, random guys shouting about how fucked up they’re getting while high-pitched laughter comes from the girls. I’ve barely taken a step before I’m drenched with someone’s drink, and I realize that breaking in through my bedroom window was probably one of my better ideas tonight.
My eyes remain wide, constantly searching for the faces from my nightmares, and when I get halfway down the hall, I start to wonder if they’re even here at all. Passing by Cross’s apartment first, I find myself stopping to peer in. There are bodies scattered everywhere and my curiosity gets the best of me. I slip into his apartment and see the layout is exactly the same as mine, only there’s barely anything in here. An empty snake enclosure and a couch. No TV, no rug, no pictures, nothing at all that indicates what kind of man lives here.
It’s as though he doesn’t really live here . . . and maybe he doesn’t.
Making my way deeper into his apartment, I find his bedroom and slowly reach for the handle. The door is locked and something inside my chest tightens. What the hell am I thinking trying to get into his bedroom? This is ridiculous. This man had a hand in kidnapping me. He was the one who fastened cuffs around my wrists, slammed me up against the wall, and ensured any chance of my escape was forfeited.
Getting out of there and squeezing my way back into the hall, I find myself wondering about that snake enclosure. It was huge and very clearly looked after, but it was empty. Surely if he wasn’t here, the snake would be back in its home, safe and sound. That could only mean they’re still in the building, still waiting for me to make my biggest mistake yet.
A shiver trails down my spine as I finally reach my apartment and whip my key out of my pocket, more than ready to slip inside and lock the door behind me, but I find myself glancing over my shoulder at Zade’s apartment.
The door is wide open, and it’s like a beacon welcoming me in.
I pause, shivers sailing down my spine. I shouldn’t. It’s asking for trouble, but I can’t stop thinking about getting in there and discovering anything about this stranger that could help me, or at the very least, answer some of the burning questions that have plagued me since the moment I moved in.
Shit.
This is insane.
I should open this damn door, get inside, and lock the bastard out behind me. Am I an idiot for even considering this? Hell, I know I am.
Fuck.
Without another thought, I slip across the hall, trying to keep myself hidden between the bodies. The moment I step over the threshold into Zade’s apartment, my stomach starts to crawl. I’m going to be sick, and come first thing tomorrow, I need to book myself an appointment with a therapist to figure out how I could willingly do something so stupid. But I’m here now and I’m not going to waste an opportunity like this.
There’s not a lot to see in his small apartment. It’s just like Cross’s. There’s a couch and flatscreen TV, but for some reason, I don’t think he uses it. The layout of his apartment is different, with the kitchen and living room at one end and the bedroom and bathroom at the other.
I don’t bother walking into the kitchen since I can see everything from where I am. Instead, I find myself wandering to the bedroom. I look left and right before curling my hand around the handle and testing my luck. The latch releases, and I suck in a breath, my eyes widening with the realization of what’s about to happen.
I should run. I should shove this reckless curiosity back down where it belongs and take off before this shit turns sour. And yet, instead of making a break for it and having my best interests in mind, I discreetly slip inside the bedroom of my kidnapper.
Closing the door behind me, I step into an empty room, my gaze immediately scanning the space around me. There’s a queen-sized bed up against the side wall with a small bedside table next to it and no windows. The room smells just like him, and it’s almost overwhelming, making me feel as though he’s in the room with me. There’s no denying it though, it smells damn good. It’s intoxicating, similar to that wicked stare of his.
Not wanting to be here any longer than necessary, I start searching, looking for any clue that will tell me who he is or what he wants with me. I start with his wardrobe, finding a whole lot of nothing. His clothes are neat, almost with military-style perfection. Not a damn thing’s out of place. Shoes are in a straight line, a few shirts and pants, but not nearly enough for someone who’s supposedly living here full time.
