Page 2 of Sweet Venom
As Laura starts to carry the tray of glasses, I pull it from her hands and smile. “You can go home. I’ll finish up.”
“Really?” Her expression lights up, but she bites her lower lip. “You always do this. I feel bad taking advantage of your kindness.”
“You’re good. I know you miss little Karly and you’re worried since she hasn’t been feeling well.”
“Ahh, you’re honestly the best, Violet.” She side-hugs me, her face still tired, but a soft smile lights it up.
And that makes me feel better. The tension in my shoulders eases a little, and I take on her tasks with renewed energy.
I like lessening the burden on others, especially if it’s someone like Laura who needs to work twice as hard to put food on the table for her little girl.
Maybe that’s because I was also brought up by a single mom.
“Oh.” Laura turns on her heel, then comes closer, casting a discreet glance at the security guys and the bartender, who are talking to the manager. “Did you see the huge motorcycle parked across the street when you came in?”
All the ease vanishes, and my body tenses up in that frozen response I have for everything. “There’s…a motorcycle?”
“Yeah. It looked expensive. Kinda hot. Here, I took a picture.”
She fishes her phone out of her back pocket and scrolls through her gallery.
My breath catches.
It’s him.
The tall man cloaked in black—jacket, gloves, and helmet—leaning against the monstrous gleaming black bike, his legs crossed at the ankles. No part of his face is visible.
But I know that bike.
I’ve seen it near my neighborhood.
Why would he park it across from HAVEN? Why not hide like he always does?
My stomach twists.
This…this is an escalation.
He’s done hiding.
He wants me to know.
I try to remain calm, but my insides war with anxiety and the need to throw up. My fingers instinctively find the small tattoo on my left wrist, and I trace it back and forth, back and forth, willing it to quiet the chaos.
But there’s no calming my thoughts.
Am I…in danger?
“Can you send me the picture?” I ask Laura with a forced smile that she doesn’t see, because she’s zooming in on the man.
“Sure. He looks so hot, right? I’ve got a thing for biker guys in leather.” She chuckles and I laugh along with her even as my fingers tremble when I retrieve my phone.
Laura leaves after she sends me the picture, and I add it to the folder with some other discreet pictures I took from my apartment. Maybe this will be enough for the police to provide me with protection?
Though that’s highly unlikely. Last week, when I showed them some of the ones I’d taken, they dismissed me and said I was being paranoid. Admittedly, the man is hard to make out since he was always in the shadows and never really in full frame like in the one Laura sent me.
This is the first time he’s been standing there in person, and I can’t help but think his actions are becoming dangerous. I can’t get away with ignoring him, but I also know the police won’t help me.
I zoom in on the picture Laura sent me, my wet fingers slipping on the screen.
