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He can’t mean that, right?
I mean, I never looked into it, but this’s a normal, quiet type of larger town. I’d have heard if it was dangerous.
“So, what will it be, thirty seconds on my bike, or ten minutes of awkward conversation while I push it alongside you?”
He’s serious.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“I do, and I shouldn’t be late.”
But he’ll still stay if he has to. From the hard look in his eyes, I’d say he’s not delighted about it.
I weigh in my options. He’s right, the likelihood of an accident in less than a mile is pretty low. Maybe I should take this as an opportunity to cross off a bucket list item I never had in the first place.
Already regretting it, I cross the distance between us, and eye the low, powerful machine underneath him.
“What do I do?” I ask, after putting on the helmet.
“You climb up, and you hold on to me. It’ll be over before you know it.”
I’m biting my lower lip as I tentatively do as he says. I’m wearing a dress, and it’s awkward to know what to do with it, but I lift it to my mid-thighs. Then I wrap my arms around him.
“Okay.”
“Let’s go.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, and scream. I think he purposely rushes just to scare me. Or maybe that’s just the normal feeling.
Either way? I love it.
42
MARIUS
By the time I drive up to Fur ’n’ Co on Monday, Sarah’s gone. I catch one of her colleagues, who’s quick to give me personal information he shouldn’t divulge. Apparently, she swapped her schedule with another employee—a fact that the rail-thin man is only too happy to bitch about.
I make a mental note. He has to go. Sarah has at least one stalker—two if I count myself—and assholes like that bitter little man are making it too easy to know where she is and when.
That gives me a clue as to how someone could have come to her room when she was gone. They must have gotten her schedule, either from school or work.
I survey the handwritten list always in my back pocket. It has thirteen names on it, nine of which are already scratched out. I looked into them, dismissed them as potential masterminds behind the video, and then made them pay for what they did to Sarah anyway.
The four names remaining are Brandon, his parents, and that chick, Lynne, who fucked around with Sarah when she was far too young for that kind of game. Sarah didn’t seem particularly bothered when she mentioned her, so I haven’t prioritized her, but I’ll get to her eventually.
I won’t deny it: I am enjoying myself immensely. Hurting people has always been in my blood. I kept it in the bedroom until now, sating my craving on people who share that taste—but causing actual harm to someone who deserves it is far more satisfying.
My cock tightens in my pants as my eyes settle on the name I’m keeping for last. Brandon is going to be a lot of fun, but every time I considering driving down to Lone Pine to take care of him, I hesitate.
I’m about to drive off again when my phone buzzes. I frown before I pick it up. I always put it on Do Not Disturb before picking up Sarah, which means that only a few contacts can reach me—all of them, important.
Markus.
“Yes.”
“I just dropped off your chick back home.”
My jaw tightens. “What?”
