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I like twisted.I’d just spent more than twenty years living the most boring life ever. I wanted nothing more than to sink into an impossible fantasy, one that would make me feel alive.
After several hours of browsing, my head pounded, and my one good eye was ready to call it quits.
“I think it’s time for bed, baby.”
Blade eyed me, then the hallway to the laundry room and his doggy flap to the outside.
“Yes, I know you have to pee. I’ll turn on the light.” Poor baby. I wondered if he’d held it all night since I hadn’t come home the previous evening.
As I waited in the laundry room for my cowardly dog to do his business, I got a load of laundry ready for the morning, including my cruddy jeans. I pulled the detective’s card from my pocket. No official name on the front, just a generic OPP card with their main office address, a toll-free number, and an extension. On the back, written in ink, was a local number. Probably the detective’s work cell. Rather than trash it, I tacked it onto my bulletin board that until now only held my pizza place flyer—because on Fridays, we always ordered in. Canadian extra cheese for me, and meat lovers for Blade.
Seeing the card had me thinking of the detective. Would he actually return to show me those mug shots? More likely, he’d demand that I come down to the station because I totally wanted to waste my time helping the cops solve a crime that would likely see the perps plea-dealing my assault down to probation and a promise to attend a substance abuse program. My city had been getting soft on crime ever since they’d decided that everyone was a victim. Someone beat the shit out of people for drug money? Not their fault. It was the addiction.
I was so tired of seeing the perps win. But what could I do?
My dog returned, scooting through that door flap as if the bogeyman nipped at his heels. For the first time ever, I slid the security flap down over the opening, sealing it shut. That night I didn’t mind Blade’s ginormous body squashing me as he huddled close for protection.
I hugged him, knowing no one would get into the house without him waking me up with his crying. And if that happened, the baseball bat by my bed would get a taste of blood. Although, it might be a good idea to pull a Negan fromThe Walking Deadand wrap some barbed wire around it for extra effect. To say that I remained rattled by the attack was an understatement.
I fully expected to have nightmares.
Instead, that night, I had the strangest dream…
CHAPTER6
“What areyou doing in my bed?”
The gruff voice startled me awake, only to realize that I slept still. Or was dead, seeing as how, when I sat up, I appeared to be a ghost outside my body—which still lay on the bed, eyes closed.
Freaky. Especially since Blade remained snoring atop my prone hump under the blanket.
Fingers snapped. “Earth to fucking stranger in my bed.”
I swiveled my head to see a brute of a man standing near the door. Ever watch a show on bikers? Then you could easily picture six-feet-plus of bristling male wearing thigh-hugging jeans and a T-shirt, over which he’d layered an open leather jacket. The man had a square jaw and a salt-and-pepper bristle. Hair on top of his head? Unknown. He could have been bald, considering he wore a dark blue bandanna. His scowl proved impressive.
“Who are you? The reaper?” I asked, trying not to freak out. “Am I dead?” Sure, he lacked a robe and a scythe, but he had the face of a person who wouldn’t be swayed by threats or tears.
His brows rose. “You’d better not be dead. I don’t need the cops banging on my door again.”
Theagaindidn’t surprise. “Can you blame them? You look like the type who’d rob his own mother.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His ornery expression deepened. “I’ll have you know I loved my mama and would have killed anyone who fucking did anything to her.”
Only in my possible afterlife did I manage to insult the Grim Reaper. And then, to make things even better, I argued. “You need to leave. It’s not my time to go yet.” Death couldn’t take me. I was too young to die.
I blamed the doctors and nurses at the hospital. They’d obviously missed something fatal. I glanced at my still-breathing body in bed. I jabbed a finger in his direction. “Aha, so long as my heart beats, you can’t reap my soul. It’s the rules!”
“Lady, you are acting crazy, and I am not in the mood. So, get your ass moving out the door so I can get some fucking sleep.” The scowl punctuated his demand.
It didn’t go over well. “Fuck you. I am not leaving. This is my house. Mine.” I poked myself in the chest. “I bought it fair and square in an auction from the city.”
“City don’t own this place. I do. And I know for a fact I’m all paid up. I know better than to give those bureaucratic fuckers an excuse to come sniffing.”
It hit me then who this must be. My overactive imagination had taken what Detective Walker had told me about the previous owner and the fact that he’d gone missing, and created a dream version. Apparently, I had classist and sexist views of the world, given I’d automatically made the previous owner a brutish male.
I laughed.
“What’s so fucking funny?”
