Page 45 of Zen's Crash

I unlock the door for him. When he steps through, I finally feel like everything is going to be okay. I open my mouth to apologize, but he wraps me up in his arms and leads me over to the bed.

“Look, Lexi, we’ve got to talk.”

“I know. I’m sorry about this morning. I don’t know what got into me. Something about thinking my father was a killer was just too much. It sent me right over the edge.”

“No, it’s nothing to do with that. We found the man who’s been stalking you. His name is Reggie Murphy. Does that ring any bells?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“He’s probably using an alias.”

“I don’t understand. What’s this about?”

“Someone baited us into a meetup at a rundown apartment complex in town. When we got there, the security office was filled with pictures of you. They were pinned up on the walls, and covering the desk—most of them with their eyes cut or scratched out. We found more evidence left behind in his former apartment.”

I stammer, “You mean someone out there has an obsession with me—possibly a stalker?”

“Yeah, whoever this is, he’s much sicker than we thought at first.” Reaching into his cut, he pulls out some comic books but doesn’t let me see them. “These are full of images of the women from the flash drive. He’s cut out their faces and some naked women from porno magazines and cobbled them together to make a sort of rape-slash-torture porn. He’s got a whole book dedicated to you.”

“Jesus, it sounds like I might be next on his list,” I choke out.

“That’s what we think too. Things are too dangerous for you to stay here, even with my club brothers outside. We think it’d be best if you came to the clubhouse. I know your friends are still there. You can visit with them while we track this fucker down.”

I shove up off his lap and re-pack my bag with clean clothing. “Alright. I never thought something like this would happen to me, you know? It seems surreal.”

“Yeah, I know,” he tells me. “I’m just anxious to get you somewhere safe for now. I can’t stand the thought of that ignorant fucker getting his hands on you.”

“Well, I sure don’t want to end up in his clutches.”

By the time I lock up my house and we hit the road on Zen’s motorcycle, I’m feeling more scared than I’ve ever been before, but also more protected. I’m glad Zen showed up tonight. I don’t deserve his help after the way I freaked out earlier on today, but I’ll gratefully accept it.

Just being able to wrap my arms around him while he takes us on the open road is exhilarating. I know that I’ve said it before, but I really love being on the back of his bike. It’s the one place where I can relax and just be a spectator. I don’t have to worry about anything but hanging on, and I love that. The chill wind rushes over my skin, and I bury my face in his back. It warms me right up. The peace I find with him makes all my fear disappear for a few minutes, letting me just enjoy the moment—something I haven’t been able to do in a very long time.

***

We eventually pull into the parking lot of the clubhouse. Kayla and Cindy come out to greet us with huge smiles and seem thrilled to be staying here. It’s my clue that they don’t truly understand the danger involved. If they did, they’d both be much more worried.

Evan stands guard over his girlfriend, and Kayla seems totally fine with his incessant hovering. We all walk into the clubhouse and grab a table in the back so we can talk.

We give them an update on what’s been going on, because they need to understand the danger of this situation. To be honest, I’m getting tired of talking about it. Cindy is my only real-life friend. I’ve got a bunch of online friends, but Cindy and by extension her sister, are the ones I turn to for companionship and a shoulder to cry on when things go bad. Of course, I try to be there for them as well, because friendship is reciprocal.

When Zen and I retire to our room, I do something I shouldn’t. While he’s in the shower, I have a look at those comic books. The moment I open the top one, I wish I hadn’t. Zen’s right about this person cutting pictures of me and pasting them over every woman’s face. It’s been done haphazardly, he didn’t even try to make it look neat. Not only that, but he’s scratched out most of the eyes and scribbled bruises and cuts on the naked bodies. I snap the book shut and don’t bother looking at the others. I never knew sick stuff like that existed in the world. Now I do, and I feel like my world has changed for the worse.

When Zen comes out of the shower with a towel slung low around his hips, he guesses by my expression what I did. He comes, picks me up, and sits me on his lap.

“Oh, baby. You looked at those fucked-up books that asshole created, didn’t you?”

I rest my cheek on his damp chest. “I don’t know what came over me—curiosity, I guess. Imagining it is one thing, but actually seeing it is another, I wasn’t prepared for how creepy it was. What kind of person thinks to do something like that, and what kind of gratification would they get out of it?”

He holds me tighter and rubs my back soothingly. “I don’t know. Some people are unhinged. Who knows why they do the things they do.”

“I’m a grown woman, I shouldn’t be so affected by seeing stuff like that.”

“Rigs and I are grown men, and we thought that shit was creepy as hell too.”

“I’m glad to hear I wasn’t the only one freaked out by it.” I look up at him, grateful that he understands. “And you always know just what to say to make me feel better.” I wrap my arms around him and burrow deeper into his hug.

Zen says, “Try to shove that awful shit into a little box in the back of your mind and slam the lid shut.”

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