Page 39 of Hunting Pretty

But I’d been right there, watching from behind one of those big hawthorns that lined her street when Thomas Peterson met Ava.

When hedaredto do what he did.

When he sealed his fate.

His moving vans were parked all over the street, blocking her driveway so that she had to park her Mercedes down the street and walk to her house, her giant leather Chloe Marcie tote weighed down with books.

Headlights shined everywhere, their yellow glare crisscrossing the road like prison search beams. Movers shouted and grunted as they banged heavy, ostentatious furniture down the ramps from their trucks.

Mr. Peterson, easily differentiated from the rest by his velvet maroon smoking jacket and ascot tie, yelled at a mover handling a statue of a naked woman.

“Do you know who sculpted that? I’m not sure you could even begin to try to pronounce it. And you’re just smearing your dirty hands all over it?”

He turned toward two men carrying a heavy-looking wooden chest of drawers and continued his arrogant barrage.

“Good God, man. Careful! That’s an eighteenth century Chippendale. Do you know how much that cost? Do you think your year’s wages could even put a dent in reimbursing me if you damage it?”

Ava visibly stiffened, clutching her tote to her side as she weaved through furniture toward the small side gate.

Mr. Peterson’s demeanor instantly changed when he spotted her. The way his eyes flashed reminded me of when a hunter spotted an innocent fawn in the bush.

He straightened and smoothed down his hair.

My hands tightened into fists and I had to stop myself from leaping out from my hiding place.

Ava hurried toward the side gate cut out of the ivy-covered wall, but he stepped into her path, causing her to come up short.

“Why, hello there,” he said, his voice as slippery as oil. “Who do we have here?”

He made no qualms about leering at her. He was used to a world where everything was for sale. Including women.

My vision started to bleed red as I imagined all the ways I would make him pay for disrespecting my woman.

“Excuse me, I’m trying to get past.” Ava went to move around him, but he stepped in front of her again.

“Not very neighborly,” he said, narrowing his beady little eyes, anger slipping into his voice.

I couldn’t see Ava’s face but I could imagine my girl glaring back at him. “Excuse me,neighbor, you’re in my way.”

She strode past him toward the gate.

“So impolite,” the soon-to-be dead man said, following at her heels, his eyes roaming up and down her body, “I’m just trying to benice.”

“Thenkindlyleave me alone, old man. You aren’t entitled to my time.”

His face went red.

This time he grabbed ahold of her arm, trying to pull Ava toward him. “You snobby little cunt.”

He fuckingtouched her.

Anger flared up in me so quickly that it almost took my breath away.

Fuck my promise.

Fuck staying in the shadows.

Ava was in trouble.

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