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“You’re hanging out with Igor,” Road said.
“He is the best biology instructor. We both know he will be able to help me get what I want.”
“And what is it you want?” Road asked.
“Sergey’s head. But I want him to know I’m removing body part by body part, as I take it.”
Chapter Three
It had been a long but successful day. Dinah’s feet were hurting, and all she wanted to do was get home, make some food, and curl up on the sofa. Tomorrow was Sunday, and that was her rest day—a day where she could do some research, read about any upcoming products she might be interested in, clean, or watch television. She never went anywhere on a Sunday. When her mother was alive, it was the day they shared together, and Dinah had kept it sacred.
Putting her key in the lock, she tensed up as the door to her home simply opened.
This wasn’t good. She had locked her door that very morning, and she didn’t even have to second-guess herself.
Reaching into her bag, she grabbed the pepper spray, and in the pocket of her skirt was the blade she kept at all times. Her mother had taught her to arm herself, to always be prepared for the monsters that lurked outside, waiting to strike.
She didn’t even think to call the cops. They would never come. She knew firsthand they didn’t come until you told them to.
Dinah closed the door behind her and kept her back against it. She didn’t want to move. It was strange, death was not something she thought she feared, but right now she did.
All the lights were off in her house.
“You don’t have to be afraid.”
She recognized that voice. It was hard not to, considering less than twenty-four hours ago, he had his hands wrapped around her throat.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked. Stepping back into her sitting room, she found Road sitting in the corner, on her mother’s old chair. “Get out of that chair!”
“No, I rather like it.”
He ran his hands down the arms of the chair, and Dinah saw red. Without even thinking, she charged at him with a scream, and he didn’t have much choice but to catch her as she landed blows to his body. She wasn’t really focusing on where she was hitting, just that she was hurting him, and in the scuffle—not sure how it happened—she ended up on the floor with Road straddling her.
It seemed with very little effort on his part, he had her wrists pinned above her head, and she growled her frustration at him.
“Let go of me,” she said, wriggling beneath him.
“No, I don’t think so. I’d like to keep my eyes, and what remains of my face, intact.”
“Then you should have thought twice about breaking into a person’s home and ruining their property.”
“The chair is a piece of shit. I actually sat in the one chair I didn’t think you’d care about.”
“That was my mother’s chair,” she said, lifting up and straining against his hold. “The only one she found comfort in.”
“Oh,” he said.
“Yeah, oh. You can sit in any other fucking chair, but not that one. Never that one.” It wasn’t like she was inviting him back into her home, but she had a horrible suspicion he might see it as that.
The fight went out of her, and he stared down at her.
“Get off,” she said.
“I don’t know, I’ve got another question for you.”
“Uh, you think you’re in a position to ask questions?” she asked.
“I’m in a much better one than you.”
