Page 4 of Make You Mine

Or maybe it’s all me.

Either way, I’m always wary, and the smile on my face is fake yet professionally acceptable. “Morning, Mr. Ripley. What can I get for you today?”

“The usual, Miss Ava.” There’s the ever-present wink. His tone is friendly, yet a hint of unwanted suggestiveness comes through, and I can’t help the goosebumps that rise across the tops of my arms.

Not the good kind, either. There’s no giddiness or excitement in me at his subtle flirting.

Instead, this man, with his average looks, light green eyes, and cheap cologne, makes me uncomfortable. It’s like a blaring red light sits over his reddish head, and the moment he comes near me, it screeches to life to stay back.

I don’t question the why. Far too many docuseries describing similar scenarios and the untimely end of those who didn’t heed the warning exist, and I don’t want to become a statistic.

Always listen to your instincts.

“Large black with no sugar and a half-dozen of our apple pie donuts coming right up.”

“Thank you, Sugar.”

“I’ll be right back.” I swallow down the demand that he quit calling me that—the urge to cringe—and succeed, but then a commotion comes from the kitchen. It’s the sound of a loud yelp followed by a curse and then the screech of a metal pan hitting the floor. Eyeing the kitchen door, I sigh.Why me?“Sorry about that. Your order will be ready as soon as possible.”

“Take your time.” His chuckle meets my ears, and I turn to face him again. The smile he’d been wearing is now a cocky smirk, but it’s the way Jason looks me up and down that catches me off guard. He’s never been this blatant. Leering at me. “Seems to me you need a man around here, Ava. Someone to take control.”

“I’m sorry?” My hackles rise, but with the bell sounding again and an older couple taking their place behind him, I biteback my unprofessional response for a second time. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“Oh, you did.”

Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly. Try to calm myself and my smart mouth. “Sir, I apologize if I gave?—”

“We’re going on a date this weekend.” Not a question. A demand.

“Listen, I’m not sure?—”

“Quit fighting me.” Leaning over the counter, Jason lowers his voice so only I hear. Anger flashes across his expression, and I take a small step back. “We’re inevitable, Sugar, and soon I’ll own every single inch of you. That’s a promise.”

“Is someone there? Please don’t hang up,” the operator begs, bringing me out of the memory, and I nod, letting out a low whimper as another strike greets my ears. More pleas from this woman. His sick laughter. “Help is on the way, but I need you to find a safe location, and don’t move if possible.”

However, I don’t listen. I can’t find my breath and my chest aches—burns—as guilt threatens to overwhelm me.Maybe if I’d reported him for the harassment this morning? Maybe if I didn’t wave it off as just a man coming on too strong?

Unbeknownst to me, I’m walking toward the house while clutching my phone tight. I’m close enough that the smell of spoiled garbage slams into my senses, and I crinkle my nose before pinching my nostrils closed. His community-assigned dumpsters are shut, but the funk coming from inside is stomach-churning,andbreathing through my mouth doesn’t lessen the smell. I move closer while questions flood my mind:

Why hasn’t the HOA fined him for this stench?

Why hasn’t anyone else called the police?

Where the hell is everyone on this street? In my community?

The grey home dead center on this cul-de-sac is where the noise comes from; I’ve seen this place a few times and havenever given it a second look. It’s nothing special. Just another large home with shutters and a pretty façade that blends in with the aesthetics of the area.

A familiar company truck sits in the driveway tonight, though, and my dread multiplies.

It’shis.Why didn’t I notice this before?

I’d know it anywhere, but before I can peer inside, a small flicker of light comes from a partially open window near the right side of the home. There’s no gate or shrubbery to block my path, and I don’t stop until I’m standing beneath it and rising onto the tips of my toes.

At once, my eyes close and the world becomes a muffled sound.

I’m afraid. Probably stupid. Not ready, but what if I can save…

Another blood-curdling scream. Another dark chuckle.

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