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Where she parked every week, at around the same time, when she came out to have drinks with friends.
Slumped in the driver’s seat of his own vehicle, he kept his eyes on the fancy Lexus sedan parked across from him. Hours passed, and he watched others come and go. He checked his watch. She’d be leaving soon, possibly with another man.
He’d taken that into account, as well.
Nabbing a leather case from beside him, he exited his vehicle, and looking around the dimly lit garage, so as not to be taken by surprise, he made his way to the Lexus. With gloved hands, he slipped a small piece of paper onto the windshield of the vehicle.
On the car door keypad, he punched the code he’d watched her use a few times, when she’d mindlessly locked her keys inside, and crouched low in the backseat.
Waiting.
It wasn’t long before the first sounds of her familiar voice reached his ears where he lay across the rear foot well.
“I’m good. Catch you guys next week! Randy, don’t let that bitch drive. Way too many grapefruit crushes!”
A male responded with something incoherent, his voice growing distant.
The thump of her wipers told him she’d pulled the note from the windshield. Through the driver’s window, he could see her looking around the garage, as if she might catch a glimpse of who’d left it. With the paper held to her face, he could see her eyes move back and forth, reading his proposition, and a smile stretched across his face when her brows pinched together. The note fluttered out of her hand, and she bent forward, the scratch of the door telling him her hands were unsteady, likely trembling, as she tried to fit the key.
Her hands slid over the keypad, instead, and the vehicle lock popped. Discarding her bag on the seat beside her, she fell into the driver’s seat, the sound of her shaky breaths only goading his excitement. A strong, berry scent filled the car, gagging him where he lay. Floral scents were one thing, but sweet smells sickened him.
Shaky hands fumbled over the steering wheel to the ignition, in a futile attempt to start the car. To get away. Almost laughable, but he remained silent as he sat up and plunged the needle into her neck, watching her wide eyes droop with sleepiness while the tranquilizer took over. Gently cupping the side of her head, he lowered her across the console and stared down at her.
Blue eyes shifted back and forth, and warm pants of breath fanned his cheek.
If she could talk, she’d tell him sorry, for how she’d treated him earlier. She’d beg for her life and to be spared out of mercy. She might even give him the answer to his question, unflinchingly choosing to fuck him.
But it was too late for all that. He already knew what mask he’d make her wear. How he’d tuck her hair inside of it, just so. The color crimson he’d paint on her lips.
She would be his doll, his plaything, to do with as he wished. She’d never reject him again.
He’d make her virtuous and obedient. Gracious as a flower.
His Queen of the Night flower.
And in the morning, she would wilt away.
Just like the others.
10
Voss
I’m just stepping out of the shower when a knock at the door stops me in my tracks. After nabbing my gun set from the nightstand, I slink toward the bedroom window and, peering out, see Nola at the front door, biting her nails. A quick scan of the yard and driveway confirms there’s no one else, and I set my gun back where it was, before making my way to the door in nothing but a towel wrapped around my lower half.
Not that I mind the chick, , hell, she made a kids food-stained Star Wars T-shirt look like a wet dream, but I hope this isn’t going to be the same routine every day. I’m here to watch and observe her, not play some friendly game of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.
When I throw back the door, her eyeballs look as if they might pop out of her head. Decked out in a red flannel shirt, ripped up jeans, and Sherpa coat, with her hair twisted up in a red bandana, she looks like a woman who belongs in a cabin in the woods, on the cover of an Outdoor Living magazine.
Painfully attractive, in spite of being fully clothed.
“I’m … sorry. I didn’t mean to catch you off guard. Again.” Head tilted away, it’s obvious she’s trying not to look at my towel. “My car is parked at the bar, and I just wondered if you could give me a ride. I have to pick up my son in an hour.”
This is turning into exactly what I don’t need. “I’m supposed to be somewhere this morning, too. What about a cab?”
“Look, I wouldn’t ask, asking isn’t something I do, but I made a mistake last night. One I don’t intend to make again. If you can’t give me a ride, I’m happy to walk. I just thought I’d try first.”
“How far is the bar?”
