Page 11 of Corrupting Ivy

Standing with a groan, I dusted off my hands, seeing the slight tinge of blood on my palms. My ass ached, as I must have landed on a rock just right. I picked up the trash bags and threw one in the dumpster, only to have the other tear mid-flight, reigning down beer bottles and cans all around me.

I balled my fists, my fingernails biting into my palms as I lashed out and kicked the metal canister. “Ahhh,” I screamed, hoping it would release the turmoil that had surged inside me.

Bending over, I picked up the brown beer bottle, only for that overwhelming feeling to strike the back of my neck. The tiny hairs stood on end. I swiped my hand over my neck to calm the itch.

He was here, watching me.

I hurriedly picked up the bottles and threw them in the dumpster when I caught sight of a shadow moving to the right in my periphery. There stood a man in the darkness, feet set apart in a wide stance, hands to his sides, and a hood draped over his head.

It was him, no doubt about it.

I stared at him for what felt like minutes in a battle of wills. Should I run or scream? He stalked towards me, and it pulled me out of my consternation, my instincts kicking in, deciding for me. I backed up, threw the beer bottle at him. It shattered in the distance as he dodged it with a laugh.

My stomach bottomed out as the fear kicked into overdrive. I raced to the back door, spinning the knob, and jerked, only for it to not budge. I pulled a few more times, desperation clawing at my chest. He was getting closer and there was nowhere to go but the opposite direction, towards the deserted street.

I spun and ran. The ache in my glute caused me to limp as my leg moved back, slowing me down. Looking behind me, needing to know just how much I had gained on him, my body collided with a hard object, stunning me to a daze. I fell towards the ground for the third time tonight, bruising my other butt cheek.

Strong hands gripped both my arms, and a deep growl reverberated around me as a man picked me up off the ground and pulled me to his chest. I blinked rapidly as I stared up at the man with the name I didn’t know. He looked behind me, released his powerful, bruising grip, then discarded me to the side while making his way to the person chasing me.

That man wasn’t there anymore, but it was as if he could sense my stalker just as I could. He reached under the back of his shirt and pulled out a long serrated knife that caused my heart to stop mid-beat, and took off down the alleyway.

I could have pickeda better time to go for a stroll, but the racket in the bar left me tossing and turning for hours.

Then she happened.

Running into me in an absolute panic. This time, I let her fall to her ass just for the inconvenience.

But I touched her again, pulling her to her feet… I saw the fear pervading her eyes. It stirred something I had smothered with hate, buried deep down, and put it to rest with blood.

Her doe-like eyes and plump lips had me wanting to do things to her that would be acceptable in a back alley. Although when I was through, she wouldn’t be looking at me as her rescuer—her goddamn haven.

I pushed her to the side as I caught sight of someone’s heel turning the corner at the end of the alleyway—the source of her alarm.

Rushing down the length of the building. I turned the corner with light footsteps, gripping my knife with the blade to my forearm.

I scanned the area, not sensing a presence anywhere. My calm heartbeat ticked up as the thrill of bleeding someone out urged me forward. Their blood splashing to the ground in a melodic symphony would be for my ears only.

There was a perk about being a self-proclaimed psychopath. I didn’t experience fear. I shut my emotions off long ago and forgot where I put the switch. But it didn’t hinder my ability to stay safe. In fact, it enhanced it. I made calculated decisions, determining which action would afford me the best outcome, and I was good at it.

The side of the building smelled like old urine and a dead carcass, intermingled into one nasty perfume of stink.

Sinking into the shadows near the grapefruit orchard that lined the building, I held still and listened.

Small critters scurried along the leaves, causing more noise than their little bodies should be able to make. Crickets cursed me with their racket, overlaying my ability to hear anything else. But it was the feeling I got, the one that told me he was long gone and I’d have to wait for the next time. And there will be a next time.

A predator knows a predator.

I made my way back to where I’d left her, only to find her missing. My eyes dart around the dark alleyway, searching for her, but come up empty. I tried the back door, finding it locked. That would explain why she ran towards the street where she bumped into me. Her scent of artificial flowers clung to my shirt, making me ache unexpectedly with need. Walking around the front of the bar, hoping she might have come this way, I found her sitting in one of the wooden rocking chairs that had been there since I was a kid, her arms folded across her chest, her gaze shifting at every noise.

As I stepped up onto the wooden porch that stretched the length of the bar, she stood up to greet me. “Did you find him?”

“No. Do you always run away from the person trying to help you?” She stared at me, dumbfounded, but didn’t reply. I rubbed my eyes with the butt of my palms. My eyes burned from lack of sleep, so the last thing I needed was to pick up an additional complication. But I just couldn’t help myself. “Who is he?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Then why is he following you?”

She shook her head again, and this time her tone made my hand itchy. “If I knew that, don’t you think I’d know who he is?”

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