Page 9 of Delicious Prey

P.S. I have several photos of you hanging on my wall, and in my favorite one you’re wearing a white sundress with pink flowers. I dream about you in that dress, zaika. One day I’m going to slide my hand between those pretty thighs of yours and cup what’s mine. Will I find your pussy wet, sweetheart? I bet it will be.

I step back and take in a much-needed breath. I didn’t know about the photos. I didn’t know his cell was covered in pictures of me and that he stared at them all day, every day. He’s never going to just forget about me. I’m guessing a man like Kirill never stops until he has what he wants, and for whatever reason, he wants me.

Eyeing the box that holds Kyle’s severed finger, I debate what to do. I can’t just throw it out with the garbage, can I? What if it somehow gets traced back to me? In the end, I decide to bury it beside one of the rose bushes in my backyard. Peanut sits and watches, looking like he thinks I’m losing my mind. Maybe I am. I dig a shallow hole and then envision a curious, hungry squirrel getting ahold of it and running off. I can just imagine drinking my coffee in front of the window, watching the cute little thing run off with Kyle’s college ring glinting in the sun. I dig deeper and then set the box in before filling it back up.

I would be feeling some serious guilt right now if Kyle had been a sweet guy. I’m hoping the next time he wants to drug a woman, he’ll look down at his nub and reconsider. I snort out a laugh and then shake my head.

“I’m losing my mind, Peanut.”

He jumps in my lap and lets me carry him back inside. I get ready for work in a daze, and by the time I’m giving Peanut his goodbye hug, I’m more confused than ever about my situation. Things could be worse. Kirill could want to kill me. His letters could be filled with death threats and vivid descriptions of all the ways he’s planning on torturing me. Instead, the man wants to fuck and take care of me.

He’s a psycho a little singsong voice says in the back of my head. Pushing everything from my mind, I get in my car and head to work. I’m halfway there when I realize my car is no longer making the wonky, clicking noise. When I park, I notice the little sticker in the upper corner of my windshield is brand new. Someone fucking fixed my car and got my oil changed. God, Kirill’s man was busy last night. Instead of being freaked out, I’m actually kind of relieved. I don’t have the money for car maintenance, and now I don’t have to worry about it. Maybe if I mention that I don’t like to take out the garbage, Kirill will add that to his man’s to-do list. I bark out a laugh into my empty car and then shake my head.

“This is not normal,” I mutter. “This is so not fucking normal.”

I scan the nearly empty parking lot, not at all surprised when I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. Whoever’s watching me is damn good at his job. The rest of the morning passes by with the same monotonous boredom that I’m accustomed to. There was an exciting moment when I got yelled at because I couldn’t honor an expired coupon, but other than that, it was a typical morning.

I’m so used to keeping to myself that it takes me a second to realize someone’s joined me at the small corner table I always eat my lunch at. I look up and meet Chris’s eyes, unable to hide my surprise at seeing him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he quickly says.

Chris is a few years older than me, and he’s been nothing but nice to me since I started working here. I get the distinct impression he feels sorry for me.

“No, you didn’t startle me.” I laugh at his expression. “Okay, maybe a little bit, but it’s okay.”

He opens his container of lunch and says, “Sorry you got yelled at earlier. People can be such assholes.”

“It’s all right. I briefly thought about just slipping fifty cents to the woman to make up for the coupon loss, but I thought that might just make her yell even louder.”

“Probably,” he agrees before taking a bite of his pasta.

We finish our break talking about the manager who just up and quit and the schedule for next week. Chris seems on edge, and it isn’t until I’m gathering up my stuff that he finally says, “Do you think maybe we could hang out sometime?”

I’m so surprised that I don’t say anything, just stand there looking at him while he grows more uncomfortable with each passing second. I finally find my voice.

“Oh, um, I’m not so sure that’s such a great idea.” I’m not thinking about Kirill when I tell him no. I just have no desire to date Chris. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a really sweet guy, but there’s just nothing there for me.

That’s because he’s not a tall, gorgeous hitman with a sexy Russian accent.

I shove the annoying thought away and try to look at Chris without comparing him to the grey-eyed devil who haunts my every thought. It’s impossible not to, though, and poor Chris falls short on all counts. He just doesn’t stir anything inside me. He’ll be a great boyfriend for someone, that someone is just not going to be me.

I can see the disappointment on his face, but he covers it as best he can with a friendly smile. “Sure, yeah, you’re right.” He lets out a soft laugh. “Rumor has it I might be promoted to manager, so I guess it would be frowned upon anyway.”

“Yeah, definitely,” I say, trying to make it seem like that was the reason all along. “Don’t want to piss off the bosses.”

He runs a hand through his blond hair but is careful to avoid my eyes. “Guess I’ll see you around, Lydia.”

“I’ll be here.” I give a dorky laugh that I wish I could take back as soon as it leaves my mouth. I swear I catch a glimpse of relief on his face, like he’s just now realizing the bullet he dodged with my messed-up ass. Yeah, Chris, I’ve got issues. Better run fast and far before my insane hitman stalker comes after you.

Later that night, I debate what to do. I think about writing Kirill a letter, but then decide that the best thing is for me to just ignore him. If I keep to myself, then he won’t have any fingers to chop off, or worse, and this will give him the opportunity to prove that what he says is true and that he won’t hurt me. The idea of not writing him agitates me, which is all the more reason to not write him. He’s getting under my skin, and that won’t lead to anything good, at least not for me.

The next morning, my doorstep is empty, and I pretend that I’m thrilled about it and ignore the slight annoyance I feel at not having a new letter to read. It’s my day off, so I throw on some old clothes and spend the morning planting some new flowers. I’m brushing dirt off my jeans and not paying attention to where I’m going when I trip over the hose and fall on my ass. I stick my arm out to break my fall and end up landing on my wrist in a way that sends a white-hot flash of pain up my arm as my breath leaves my lungs in a painful hiss.

Peanut runs over to me when I groan and clutch my arm to my chest. I look down, breathing out a sigh of relief when I don’t see a bone sticking out anywhere, but stretching out my arm and trying to wiggle my fingers sends another jolt of pain straight through me.

“That’s probably not a good sign,” I tell Peanut. He sniffs my hand and gives a soft whine. I think about my measly bank account and the huge deductible on my insurance and decide that it’s probably not broken. “Nothing a little aspirin can’t fix,” I mutter and slowly get my ass back up to standing. At least I had enough sense to fall on my left arm.

An hour later I’m petting Peanut goodbye and walking to my car. Fuck this. My wrist is twice the size it was and the aspirin isn’t doing shit to dull the pain. I keep my arm glued to my chest and drive one-handed to the emergency room. Once I’ve signed in, I sit down and wish like hell I had someone here with me. My bastard of a mind immediately imagines what it would be like to have Kirill by my side. God, he probably would’ve done some over-the-top man move like carrying me in bridal style while yelling for a doctor. I smile at my own stupid fantasy. There’s no one here to take care of me, so I sit in the uncomfortable, plastic chair for three goddamn hours until they finally decide to call me back.

---