Ring. Ring. Ring.
I jerked as I came awake. Looking over at the phone, I snaked my hand outside the blanket to pick it up. Dial tone. Beside me, Zachary was already getting out of bed. I didn't stop myself from checking out his bare muscled ass as he bent to pick up his jeans off the floor. He pulled a cell phone out of the pocket.
"Kant, here."
A pause.
"Right now?"
Another pause.
"Okay. Be there in fifteen."
He turned back to me, his face blank.
"You're leaving," I said, trying not to let my disappointment come through.
"Have to," he said flatly. "There's increased chatter regarding the gang activity and I need to check in. Listen, you can come with me to the station."
I made a face. "I don't think so." I had no desire to be around a bunch of cops, who'd look at me with either suspicion or pity.
"You'll be safer with me. And you'll be safe at the station, even when I'm busy working there."
"I'll be safe here. I was, you know, before you came along." I just meant that no one had ever messed with me at my apartment, that's all. But Zachary's mouth tightened and I knew he was thinking of the first time we met, when he'd raped me.
"Fine," he said tightly. "Stay inside with the door locked until I get back. Do not open the door for anyone, understand?"
"Sure. Okay."
He dressed quickly and left, making sure I came to the door with him to lock it behind him.
I considered slipping back into bed, but without him there, the bed would feel cold. I showered and dressed in jeans and shirt, picking something green to match my eyes in anticipation of Zachary coming back. I even put on a little makeup, adding color to my pale complexion, and brushed my black hair to a shine. It had been a long time since I had someone to dress up for. And considering my recent experiences, I hadn't expected to find that in a long time.
The situation with Zachary was far from permanent, I knew. If you looked up "fucked up starts to a relationship", ours would be listed as the perfect case study. I wasn't entirely convinced that I wasn't just a guilt fuck to him, or maybe just a passing focus of his lust. But I'd take what I could get at this point.
I puttered around my tiny kitchen, putting together a lasagna I could throw in the oven later for dinner. He'd only been there one day and already I was planning meals for two.
A knock came at the door.
I looked through the peephole.
Two police officers stood there, distorted and looming.
"Yes?"
"Ms. Williams? We're with the police department. Can you please open the door?"
Well, Zachary had said not to, although surely he hadn't meant to bar the police. "Um. What do you need?"
"We were sent for your protection, ma'am. We just need to confirm your safety and secure the perimeter. After that we can spend the rest of our shift outside the apartment."
Hmm. That made sense. And Zachary had just gone to the police station, concerned for my safety. I could see him ordering some patrol officers to check on me.
I opened the door.
"Hi there," I said. "Sorry about that. You can't be too careful."
The officer who'd been speaking smiled disarmingly. "I understand completely, ma'am."
I glanced at the other office and froze. He was dressed the same as the other, in uniform and clean cut. But there was something familiar about his him. His eyes -- I recognized that look, that coldness.
Feeling uneasy, I said, "Would you mind showing me your badges? I just want to verify them with --"
"The first man reached in his jacket, "Sure, no problem."
He pulled out a gun.
I should have been more surprised, really. I wasn't a criminal and until that fateful night I hadn't had dealings with them. But apparently my luck had gone to shit and hadn't come back since.
The man holding the gun was waiting, letting me appraise the situation. "Come on, sweetheart. Don't fight it. You'll only get hurt." Yes, I knew all about getting hurt when fighting it. Although, going along with it didn't guarantee sunshine and roses either.
"What do you want with me?"
"Just come with us," he said in a coaxing voice, as if he wasn't holding a gun on me.
Apparently not satisfied with my hesitation, the other man grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the doorway. He spun me around and handcuffed my hands behind my back.
We didn't pass anyone on the way down the stairs or in the apartment parking lot, although it would just look like I was getting arrested. Well, except for the unmarked white van instead of a police car, but by then it was too late.
I didn't know why they were after me. I mean, the first time it was just lust and violence and convenience. But this was specific. Even so, I could guess it would end in something painful for me.
How do you prepare yourself for pain? I knew it was coming, so there ought to be something I could do in my mind to protect myself, to shield myself. But there wasn't. It would come and it would be agony. And then afterwards, I would be alive, I hoped. Or maybe even that hope would fade with the pain.
The man who'd pulled the gun on me was driving, while the other sat in back with me. I looked at his face, trying to place him. He noticed my looking and sneered.
"Remember me? We didn't get a chance to play last time, but we will this time."
It was the man who'd fought with Zachary for me. The one who Zachary had said really messed up the women he'd raped. He'd shaved off his beard, so I hadn't recognized him at first, but those eyes and that voice confirmed his words. And apparently, he planned on making up for lost time.
