Page 30 of Forbidden Hearts

With a raging hard-on, I drive out of the apartment parking lot and head to the town square.

It’s Wednesday night. The streets are relatively quiet compared to the past two days. Still, there’s enough foot traffic at the square for me to blend in.

I park my car a street away from the square and walk the rest of the way to the bar I’m going to. A few police officers walk the streets to look after the drunk college students, but I’m not worried about being seen by them. They see so many people and students at the square every night that faces become indistinguishable.

My concern is with the security cameras on the electric poles. There are only a few cameras on the square, placed prominently in obvious spots, which makes me think they’re meant more as a deterrent than for actual surveillance. Still, I need to be careful with them and navigate through as many blind spots as I can, and blend into groups of college students when it’s impossible.

Luckily for me, there aren’t any cameras near the bar I’m stopping by. I walk in and order a beer before sitting at one of the large windows facing the square. College students walk by with cheerful faces and animated conversations.

To be young and naive.

I glance past the college students to the building across the street. It’s a tall brick building with a historic plaque carved next to the door. The building used to be the town court. Now, it’s the building where local and county prosecutors work out of, including the one who pursued Jacob and his reapers.

I’ve been coming to the square a few nights every week to study the prosecutor’s office in case I couldn’t find anything at her apartment. And it turned out to be a good idea because there wasn’t shit at her place.

To avoid any suspicion, I rotate the places I watch the building from. Sometimes I eat at the pizzeria next door, but they close early, around 10 PM. Most of the time, I come to this bar or the one next door.

So far, I have learned the government building only employs one security guard per shift. The guard sits at a small office attached to the side of the building, toward the back. There is a shift change at 11:45 PM. The guard working the evening shiftusually comes to the front of the building to greet the guard clocking into the night shift.

“Professor?” a soft voice calls to me. I can barely hear it over the loud music playing in the background.

Turning, I see a young brunette in a dress that is too tight for her body. Her tits are squeezed together and on the verge of spilling out.

“Yes?” I ask, trying to remember if I know her.

She must see how confused I am because her smile dips. “I’m in your figure drawing class,” she says. She leans in and whispers, “I wrote my number on the assignment on the first day of class. You haven’t called.”

Right. I remember now.

I made a mental note to call her, but I got busy. Then Alex danced for me, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since. I noticed this girl—shit, what is her name?—giving me flirty eyes during class this morning, but I was too busy thinking about Alex and the tiny bikini she wore when she danced for me.

Fuck. Just thinking about that night is making me hard again.

“Mind if I sit?” the brunette asks.

I nod and take a drink of my cold beer to cool off.

“Are you meeting someone here?” she asks, looking around the bar.

“No, I’m just hanging out,” I say, glancing out the window for a bit.

She talks to me about art and how she’s been drawing for a long time. Honestly, I zone her out when I start to think about Alex again. Somehow, she bore herself into my brain, and I can’tpick her out. This has never happened to me before in any of my other numerous adventures.

I mean, shit, I almost killed a guy for her today.

When we were at the restaurant and that piece of shit bumped into her, spilling her coke on her, I was ready to kill him. He and his friends almost pissed themselves when I pulled out my gun and rammed it into his gut.

I would have killed him if we hadn’t been at Mrs. Agustina’s establishment. But I love that woman like my own mother and would hate to give the restaurant a bad reputation. I had to settle with choking the guy a little, just enough to turn his face purple. Seeing the frightened expressions of his friends filled me with glee.

“Did I do something wrong?” the brunette asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“About?”

“You don’t seem interested,” she says shyly. Her confidence seems worn out.

“Sorry. I haven’t been myself lately,” I say, more to myself than to her.

“Come again? The music is too loud,” she says.

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