Page 13 of Meating Dalton

My heels click across the wooden floors and his blonde companion finally looks up to see what grabbed Jason’s attention. Her red-painted lips fly open and a glimmer of fear enters her eyes. Good. Today, I might just prove the stereotypes right.

“Jason. I thought you had an early meeting. At work,” I say, staring pointedly at the table and half-eaten pastries and Styrofoam coffee cups.

“We were just—” My hand raises, cutting off the blonde’s useless explanation.

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to my boyfriend of five years,” I say, training my eyes on his reddening expression as his eyes take in the curious gazes of everyone present. Silence reigns in the coffee shop I’ve visited religiously every week since moving five minutes down the road a year ago.

Mr. Albert, Jeremy’s dad, must’ve cut the music off so everyone can hear Jason’s explanation for why he’s sitting across from a woman that isn’t me after lying via text. We had our first coffee date here. Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. This was long overdue. But I somehow thought I would be the one to end it.

“Nat.” Jason swallows nervously before wetting his lips. “Things haven’t been good for a while,” he says in a reedy voice. I nod in agreement. I’m no saint, but at least I planned to end things before hopping in someone else’s bed.

Wordlessly, I flick the cap off the cup with my thumb and dump my hot coffee in his lap. He jumps up with a scream and movement flashes to my left.

“Try it, bitch, and watch me sweep the floor with you,” I snarl, stepping closer to the other woman to drive my threat home. She slowly sinks back into her seat with a fearful expression.

Satisfied with her submission, I turn on a heel and march the fuck out of the coffee shop, ignoring the open-mouthed stares following me. I’m sure someone will call an ambulance.

While walking to my car, I make a note to call my sister and ask if she knows a good lawyer in case Jason presses charges for assault. I hope his damn dick melted off.

RUN

NATALIA

“You’re what?! And he’s how old?” My head throbs, listening to my sweet, reasonable sister tell me how she banged a stray and got knocked up. Oh, and he’s psychotic. And I thought my pregnancy scare and Jason’s cheating would be the most shocking thing discussed during our conversation when I called after things settled down at work. Shockingly, Jason hasn’t sent law enforcement to pick me up.

“Don’t judge. I’m telling you before anybody else. I don’t know how to tell him,” she whispers. Thehimmust be nearby. How reckless, having a kid at our age. I tell her just that, adjusting my position in my office chair, night darkening the windows. I really need to get going. Hopefully, Jason doesn’t have a personality transplant and waits outside my place of work to retaliate for burning his cock with my hot coffee.

“You should’ve used protection and then I wouldn’t judge. We’re too old to be having damn kids, Sarah. Lauren will flip. Oh, wait. She’s also with a psychopath.” I massage my temples, letting the phone lay flat on my desk, Sarah’s voice coming through the speaker.

“Xavier treats her well?—”

“Before or after he kidnapped her? Before or after he made her a missing person and fugitive of the law?” I don’t keep the snark out of my voice. It’s hard to not adore Lauren, the perfect child, emulating Sarah as best she could. It churned my stomach. I love my sister, but our parents always sung her praises at home, for pursuing a job in healthcare, as if I don’t save lives too. It would’ve been nice if Lauren went into a field similar to Auntie Nat. She didn’t. And now her career is over thanks to Xavier Lasher, father killer.

“Were you the one who called the police? Lauren swears I called them and promised her a head start, but I meant a head start with work, covering for her when people asked questions about her whereabouts.” Guilt stabs at me, but I shove the bitch away. I adore my niece too much to let her throw her life away, and now my sister is traveling the same route.

“I plead the fifth, and I say get rid of it.” Silence meets my words and I momentarily fear I overstepped, but it needed to be said. Sarah is the sweet, compassionate one and I’m the bulldozer. We balance each other out. And I’ve had a shit day, so maybe my judgment is skewed.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Goodnight, Nat.” The line goes dead and guilt returns vengefully with little knives, stabbing in quick succession. I fucked up. I’m on a roll today. Sarah adores children, delivering them for a living, for fuck’s sake. My head sinks into my hands. I don’t know how to come back from that one.

A door creaks down the hall, jerking my head upright. The fuck? No one but me should be in the office. My hands swipe my phone, snatch up my purse and jacket, feet scurrying toward the door. I need to get the fuck out of here before trouble shows up. My niece and sister were both ladynapped. I’m not risking it.

Easing the door open a crack, I peer out into the empty hall, a relieved breath whistling between my teeth. Thank God for small miracles. I step into the hall, closing the wooden door behind me. Glancing frequently over my shoulder, I hurry to the front door; the distance closing. Right before I reach it, a figure steps from the shadows, sending fear skittering down my spine. Oh, fuck no.

“Look. If you want money, I’ll give you all of it. But, please let me go. I won’t even report this to the police,” I bargain, taking a wary step back, heart in my throat. An evil laugh rips from the shadowed figure. My eyes bug when he utters one word, “run.” I drop everything, turning tail, forgetting he’s in front of the only exit.

* * *

DALTON

Like a sweet little morsel of food, she turns and obeys, feet slapping against the linoleum floors. I laugh, letting it boom free, echoing off the walls. I like it when prey runs scared, even if Natalia is altering my opinion about her particular meat. My cock hardens, and not just because she’s scared.

I want her, but I haven’t decided what to do about it. Fucking animals is disgusting, a depraved act reserved for mindless beasts, of which I am not. At least that’s what I tell myself, but every time I see her, I question my stance. I let her run a foot or two, strolling forward to collect her things from the floor. When I’ve given her enough rope to hang herself, I sprint after her. It’s dinnertime, babe.

She pulls on a doorknob every few feet, delicious sobs spilling into the air. I want to swallow it up. Every. Last. Drop. She collapses near door number five. Not a lucky number for her, I’m afraid. My lips form a smile she can’t see. I coated the doorknobs in a paralytic toxin and she touched five of them, absorbing it through her skin. This is why we wear gloves, children.

Whistling a tune, I slow my sprint to a jog to a sedate walk. Nary a care here folks, squatting down to get a good look at my prey as if I hadn’t seen her just this morning. Mocha skin, hidden behind layers of clothing, causes my mouth to water. I’ll have to cut the clothing away before I strap her down for questioning back home. I’m real broken up about that, having to expose more of her delicious skin. Black curls coiled into tight ringlets frame her slack face.

“Poor wittle flower. Today is not your day. Heartache got you down?” My smile is all teeth, having had a front-row seat to her very public breakup that morning in the coffee shop. After scalding her ex’s dick with her coffee, sweet Natalia went to work right after, like business as usual, but sorrow lurks in cocoa eyes. Mhm. Hot chocolate sounds nice. I wonder if she’ll taste as sweet.

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