The little voice in the back of my head reminds me that I didn’t see the man who shot my dad. I caught a glimpse of a cheek and chin. That’s hardly identifying someone. They don’t do cheek and chin line-ups for fuck’s sake.
My mind keeps going back to the mention of my pink panties. I’d been looking for them a few days ago and just assumed they were around here somewhere, but now I know that he had his creepy underling steal them. I remember exactly what Kirill looks like. His face haunts my every waking thought and also my dreams. He scares me, but there’s no denying he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. The thought of him jerking off to my panties, well, goddamn, that does something to me when I know that it absolutely should not. I stuff the thought down deep, way, way deep, because I’m not willing to admit how fucked up I might be.
“We’re gonna bottle that shit down deep, Peanut.”
He gives a soft yip, encouraging me in my not-so-healthy coping choice. Pushing the letter aside, I decide it’s time to take some serious action. Kirill has set his sights on me, and I think it’s because he sees me as his. He’s fixated on me and thinks that I belong to him, but what if I take away the one thing he thinks he has a right to? If I find some random dude and lose my virginity, then I’ll no longer have what he wants. He said there’s a man watching me, but he can’t watch me all the damn time. He can’t be everywhere at once. A plan starts to form as I nibble on a piece of red licorice. It’s not brilliant by any stretch of the imagination, but it just might work.
Two hours later, I’m petting Peanut goodbye and slipping out my front door like I’m not up to no good. I’m carrying my reusable grocery bags, swinging them as I walk in a causal, hey, just going grocery shopping kind of way for anyone who might be spying on me. While I head downtown, I notice my car is still making the wonky noise that I’ve been pretending I don’t hear for the last couple of weeks because I don’t want to deal with it. I park in front of the grocery store I work at and walk in. As soon as I’m through the entrance, I bolt for the employee breakroom, giving a quick nod to one of my coworkers before slipping out the private door in the back. I race across the dark alley, hoping that all the perverts in the area took the night off. I make it down the narrow alley unscathed and practically run to the nightclub at the end of the street.
I pay the ridiculous cover charge, get my hand stamped so no one will sell me alcohol, and then disappear into the dark club. It’s Friday night, so the place is packed. Loud, thumping music vibrates up from the floor, and when I start to weave through the crowd, I get a few smiles from the guys around me. When I see a guy who looks close to my age with a friendly face, I smile back, figuring he’s as good as anyone. This isn’t about love. This is about making myself undesirable to the guy who’s stalking me. Clearly, this has all the elements of a good life choice.
“Hey,” he says, walking over and leaning down so I can hear him over the music. “What’s your name?”
Now that I’ve reeled a man in, I have no idea what to do. I’ve got a few chaste kisses under my belt. That’s what I’m working with here, and a huge flaw in my plan becomes painfully obvious.
“Lydia,” I finally stammer out when he’s still waiting for an answer.
“Pretty name.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to the bar. “Want a drink?”
“Um, I’m only eighteen.” I hold up my hand like he’s asked for proof. Deciding this may not be the best idea, I try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he squeezes my shoulder tighter and smiles even bigger.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says with a wink. “It’ll help loosen you up.”
He waves the bartender over and orders a drink for me while I study his profile. His light brown hair is long enough to curl in the back and every once in a while a piece will fall across his forehead, making him brush it away in a practiced move. Light brown eyes meet mine, and I quickly look away. He gives a soft laugh before handing me the freshly made drink. He’s wearing a ring on his left hand, and I recognize it as being from the university I’d been given a scholarship to.
“Drink it. It’ll make you feel better.”
I take the glass, but I don’t drink it. Something flashes across his face, but it’s gone before I can decipher it. He nudges my hand.
“Don’t be scared, Lydia. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“What’s your name?”
He gives me a big, charming smile, revealing a perfect set of teeth. “I’m Kyle.”
I nod and look around the crowded club. The dance floor is packed, every table is filled, and by the looks of it, most people are well on their way to getting shit-faced. I suddenly feel very stupid. This is not how I want my first time to go down. I have no idea who this guy is, and the way he keeps trying to get me drunk has alarm bells ringing all through my brain. I’m here. I managed to sneak past whoever the hell is watching me, which means I can just lie about fucking some random dude. I don’t need to actually make the horrible mistake of doing so. God, I’m an idiot.
Shoving the drink back at Kyle, I give him an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry. I need to go.”
“Hey, wait.” He grabs my arm, refusing to let me go. “Why are you leaving? You just got here.”
I jerk my arm away. “I changed my mind. I’m leaving.”
He tightens his fingers, and for one horrible moment I’m afraid he’s not going to let go, but then he gets control of himself and lets out a harsh laugh.
“Whatever. Get the fuck out of here.”
Surprised by the hard tone of his voice and the cruel look he’s giving me, I quickly turn and push my way through the crowd, knowing how damn close I just came to making a huge mistake. Once outside, I run down the sidewalk, checking over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure Kyle isn’t following me. It’s no longer Kirill’s man I’m afraid of. I let out a huge sigh of relief when I make it back to my car. On the drive home, I promise myself I won’t ever attempt anything that fucking stupid again. I’ll figure out another way to get rid of Kirill.
I’m convinced I’ve gotten away with my stupid stunt, that is until I open my front door the next morning and find a small box with a note underneath it. The box is wrapped in red paper with a silver string tied around it, ending in a big, loopy bow. Grabbing the box and note, I bring them inside and lean against the kitchen counter. Pulling the string, I slowly untie it and then lift the lid.
“Oh my god!” I yell when I see the finger inside. When I see the part that’s been snipped and notice the white bone surrounded by red flesh, I drop the box and dry heave. The finger rolls across the kitchen floor, and as soon as I see Peanut lunge for it, I let out another yell and dive for him, scooping him into my arms before he can wrap his little teeth around it and take off running, no doubt wanting to bury it with his half-eaten treats.
“Sorry, Peanut,” I whisper and pet his head to calm him down.
My eyes stay locked to the ring that’s now lying on the tiled floor. I recognize the university ring that’s still wrapped around the meaty part of the finger, right below the knuckle. Kyle’s finger is on my goddamn kitchen floor. I’m so frazzled I can barely think. I grab a pair of tongs from the drawer and grip the finger before carefully putting it back in the box and closing the lid. I scoot it to the edge of the counter and reach for the note. My hands are shaking so badly that I have to set the note down so I can read it.