Monster In The Shadows: A stand-alone dark romance Page 3

  “I doubt it. You just need to stop watching those true crime shows that you’re so obsessed with,” she tells me, giggling before taking a sip of her wine.

  She’s totally right. I’m just in my head too much.

  “So, give me all the gossip,” I tell her, trying to put it out of my head.

  I stare at Paige and her friend, who I’ve learned is Leanne. They’re both completely oblivious that they’re being watched. Paige isn’t a dumb girl, and I know she’s picking up that someone is watching her. Maybe she senses my proximity, and she feels this connection the same way I do.

  From the moment she brought me back to her place to take care of my stab wound, I knew she was special. I have learned a lot about her since that day.

  Paige Isabella Anderson is twenty-seven years old, born May 10, 1993. She wears corrective lenses for astigmatism. Her father, Joseph Morris Anderson, left her and her mother when she was six. She graduated from Gordon Sweets High School in Chicago in 2011 with a 5.0 GPA. Her mother, Dr. Maya Marie Martinez Anderson, was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after that, and Paige withdrew her acceptance to the University of Chicago’s pre-med program so she could take care of her mother. When her mother died three years ago, Paige inherited the house she now lives in, and must have inherited some money as well, as she has no credit card debt and no loans or mortgages in her name. She has worked at the library since she was a teenager and is now a full-time nursing student as well.

  She likes her coffee with more honey than coffee. She hates rap music. Her favorite TV shows are those horrible reality ones where you know it’s scripted, but they say it’s not.

  I know so much about her already, but I want to know it all. Every moment I spend watching her, I want her more. Her scent is a drug to me. She’s already mine, and she doesn’t even know it yet.

  She’s too carefree. She barely even looks over her shoulder. And the way I gain access to her house every night is far too easy. Anyone could watch her without her knowing. I follow her every chance I get, which isn’t as often as I would like, since I’m busy figuring out this shitstorm I’ve found myself in the center of.

  I want her to know I’m here. To know I’m protecting her. But it’s for the best, for now, that she doesn’t know. One day, she’ll learn she belongs to me and she’ll be begging for me to claim her, but for the time being, no one can know about her. I’m working to take down God knows how many men, and if they sense I have a weak spot, they’ll try to exploit it.

  I’m the best at what I do because I have no attachments. There’s nothing they can use to take me down. No one who matters to me. Everyone who mattered has already been taken from me. You can’t hurt a man who has nothing to lose, because he has nothing and no one to live for.

  So why am I drawn to Paige this way? It’s dangerous, and frankly, it’s stupid. I don’t do stupid.

  Looking through the kitchen window, I can see the girls sitting on the couch. Paige’s dark hair falls around her caramel skin. I want to wrap my hands around it, pull her head back, and bite her neck hard enough to leave a mark. Stake my claim.

  The way she laughs, so carefree, you would think she was happy and had it all together. But I watch her as she cries some nights for the loss of her mother. She’s a lot like me in some ways. She’s lost the people who were closest to her, just like her best friend, Leanne. They are close because neither one of them has anyone else.

  I could take Paige and get rid of Leanne, and no one would miss them. No one would care. Because this world is full of selfish people. We only care about what matters to us. And these two? They don’t matter to anyone else.

  But Paige matters to me, and killing Leanne would hurt her. I already know her so well, from watching and listening and doing my research. I’m hooked on her, and I want her more than I’ve ever wanted a woman.

  The day will come when she is under my roof, doing exactly as I say, begging for me. My infatuation can’t be one-sided. It’s too strong.

  I just have to be patient. I can do that. I’ve never been an impatient man. I like to take my time with everything I do, whether that’s pleasing a woman or killing a man.

  “What do we know?” I ask Winston before taking a sip of bourbon.

  “Not much. People are keeping their mouths shut. It’s pissing me off, if I’m being honest.”

  I nod. “You know I love to torture people, but it’s taking way too damn long to get any fucking answers.”

  “I agree,” he says with an answering nod. “I’ve never had such a difficult time getting these idiots to talk before. I think this goes deeper than we want to admit. I don’t like to get involved in shit like this. I also hate the fact that they’re abusing children. We aren’t good guys, but for fuck’s sake, leave the little girls out of it.” He rakes a hand over his face and sighs. “I’ve assigned Sway to help you, but I want all of this kept as quiet as possible. I’ll be able to help you more if people don’t know I’m involved.”

  “Marcus is also trying to keep an ear out. I doubt he’ll learn much, since he’s the one who hired the hit on Eddie.” I take a sip of my bourbon, trying to figure out why it’s started up again after all this time. “How much money do they even get for selling young girls for sex?”

  I’m not sure I really want to know the answer to that.

  “I heard they are getting a million dollars for some of the girls,” Winston tells me.

  I grind my teeth. “I get it. Money rules our dirty world. I just can’t stand for this. I don’t care who I have to kill. Whoever is doing this should know better. I killed everyone who was involved with my father’s murder and my sister’s disappearance. I won’t hesitate to kill every last one of those fuckers. I have nothing to live for and nothing to lose.”

  Winston looks at me as if he’s trying to read my mind.

  “Make sure it stays that way,” he tells me before standing to walk out of the bar.

  I stare at his back, replaying his words in my head.

  Does he know something I don’t know? Or worse, did he find out about Paige?

  Screams echo in the small room, and I smile as I pull off another fingernail.

  “Ready to talk yet?” I ask while kneeling next to the man.

  I move my pliers to the next nail and very slowly start to pull at it.

  He screams and shakes his head. “I don’t know anything!”

  “I know that’s bullshit,” I tell him, leaning into his face. “You were seen coming out of the warehouse that was holding the young girls last month. Where did they move the girls, and who is running this shit?”

  He shakes his head again.

  Sway takes the man’s other hand and slowly starts to pull back his skin. Blood trickles down to the ground in satisfying little drips. This is the best part of the job.

  “We can do this all day. Patience isn’t something we lack. Empathy, on the other hand? Yeah, we don’t have any of that,” Sway tells the man in the chair who has tears running down his face.

  It doesn’t take much to make a man cry, and honestly, it’s one of my favorite things to do. I like to know just what it takes, what buttons to push, to bring a strong man to tears.

  I’m sick of not getting answers from these men we have been taking. How does no one know anything?

  What is pissing me off the most is that I didn’t know sooner about all of this starting. After doing some digging, it turns out that this has been going on for a couple of years, and I had no idea.

  I pride myself in knowing everything that goes on in this city. Maybe I don’t have my hand in everything that’s going on, but I’m a details man, and I like being informed.

  “I can’t tell you who hired me, because I never got a name,” the man finally pants, wheezing in pain.

  “Names aren’t needed. Just describe him to me,” I say coldly.

  Unless this is someone new to the city, I should be able to tell who it is from a description. I have a photographic memory, and I never
forget a face.

  “I only spoke to him on the phone. He asked me to bring some coke. He said it was for a party. I didn’t know there were kids involved,” he says through his tears.

  “Who do you run drugs for? I know you don’t work for yourself,” I tell him, keeping my tone calm. I already lost my cool once. It won’t happen again.

  “I work for Anthony G.,” he finally tells me.

  I nod once. “Thank you for being so honest.”

  I stand up and give Sway a look before walking out of the room. The man told us everything he knew, and he no longer serves a purpose to us.

  I hear the gurgling sound of his throat being slit and smile. I wish I was doing it myself, but I have other things to do, other people to visit, and a certain female who needs my attention.

  How long is this going to take? I think to myself as I follow Leanne.

  I’ve fucked with people’s vehicles before. Normally, I want them dead, not just scared, so it usually doesn’t take this long for the vehicles to malfunction the way I want them to.

  Just as I’m getting impatient, her hood pops up and she starts to swerve. I smile and pull up behind her as she pulls to the shoulder.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, walking over to her as she climbs out of her car.

  “No!” she screams, and I have to fight back a laugh. “My fucking hood just popped open and I almost died.”

  She stares at her car for a few seconds before bursting into tears. I’m immediately uncomfortable, and a weird shiver runs down my back. I kill men for a living, and women crying is what makes me uneasy.

  “It actually happens a lot,” I tell her. “You did good, though. Sometimes the latches just give out. Here, let me help you.”

  I walk to my car to get some rope and get away from the tears. Why do women cry so much?

  When I get back to Leanne’s car, she seems to have composed herself.

  “I can secure it for now, but you’ll need to get the latches replaced, and possibly get a new hood,” I inform her.

  That makes her cry more. So much for being composed.

  “Fuck. Why does this have to happen to me?” she sobs.

  “I know a guy who could help you for cheap. He’s a good guy.”

  The last part is definitely a lie. I don’t know good guys. I do, however, have Sway on standby to fix the car. I’ll just pay him and make it look like he’s being a good guy.

  I wanted to punch him when he was questioning me about what this was all about. Just because we’re “partners” now, it doesn’t mean he needs to know everything I do, or why I do it.

  “Really? I can pay. I just don’t know any mechanics,” Leanne says, her eyes shining from the tears. She’s a pretty thing, but she doesn’t hold my attention like Paige does.

  “Yeah. Do you need your car back soon? I’m sure he could fit you in, but probably not until the weekend. I can give you a ride home,” I say, playing the good guy.

  She jumps up and down and wraps her small arms around me. I don’t like hugs, and I immediately want to push her away. Instead, I gently pat her back.

  “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. And I was beginning to think only jackasses were alive these days,” she says with a smile.

  If she only knew the truth.

  “I’m Leanne, by the way,” she says, extending her hand.

  “Don,” I reply as I shake it.

  She may not know me, but I know her well. I watch her every time she is with Paige, and I know the best way to get close to someone is to get close to the people around them.

  Leanne slowly follows me to Sway’s garage, and he raises an eyebrow at me when we get there.

  “So, how much is this going to cost?” she asks, kicking the dirt shyly.

  Sway stares at her, and I know exactly what he is thinking. I mean, if I wasn’t only thinking about Paige, and I thought for a millisecond that Leanne was the type to have the kind of sex I like, I would take her to bed.

  “She’s not that type,” I whisper to him.

  “We’ll see about that,” he says with a smirk on his face. “For you, sweetheart, it’s on the house.”

  Leanne’s jaw drops.

  “No. I don’t accept charity. I can pay for it,” she says, planting her hands firmly on her hips.

  She’s a strong woman. I’ve learned this from watching her and Paige, and I’m thankful that Paige has her.

  “Well, I don’t want to charge you,” he tells her with a wink. “So either take the free repair or go pay some asshat down the street a couple grand.”

  She bites her lip and blushes. Fuck, I did not think this through. Sway cannot be getting involved with Leanne. It’s only going to lead to another innocent falling into our world. And it might put Paige in even more danger.

  My brain is fucked when it comes to Paige. I’m not thinking before I act. I need to smarten the fuck up. I should stop following her and forget all about her. She’ll be fine without me, I’m sure.

  But I don’t want to give her up. I want to make her mine. And I get what I want, always.

  “Your car will be ready Sunday night,” Sway tells Leanne, who just nods.

  “I’ll get a friend to drive me,” she says.

  “I’ll bring you,” I tell her, pulling out my phone. “What’s your number? I’ll text you mine so you can call if you need any help.”

  “You don’t have to do that. You’ve done enough,” she tells me.

  I shake my head. “Nope. I started helping you, so I’ll finish. I wasn’t raised to be a quitter.”

  She giggles and nods. “Fine. Thank you both so much. I have no idea how to repay you for your kindness.”

  “I can think of a few ways,” Sway mumbles.

  I punch him in the arm. He laughs, but I can tell I punched him harder than he thought I would.

  “Come on,” I say to Leanne, opening the passenger door of my car. “Get in. I’ll drive you home.”

  “He was so nice. I swear to God, I thought I was going to die.” Leanne says after telling me her insane story.

  “You’re so lucky he was there to save the day,” I say.

  “Mm-hmm,” she mumbles around a mouthful of ice-cream. “Fuck me, his mechanic was sex on a stick. A dark, dirty stick.”

  She bites her lip, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “You know he’s probably doing the repairs for free in hopes that you’ll fuck him,” I point out.

  “Oh, I’ll gladly fuck him. And I know he’ll destroy me for all men, but it’ll be worth it.”

  I laugh and take a bite of my ice cream.

  “Are you still having dreams about that sexy, scary stab victim?” she asks.

  I feel my cheeks heat.

  “I don’t know why I can’t get him out of my head. I swear to God, I even smell him sometimes. How fucking weird is that?” I ask, shaking my head.

  “It’s probably just because it was the craziest thing that has ever happened to you. Shit like that sticks in your subconscious.”

  “You’re right. It’s just so weird.”

  I stare out the patio doors and see the neighbor’s stupid cat run by. You’d think I would want to stop thinking about him. I just can’t. And maybe it’s because I don’t even know him, but I want to see him again.

  Yep, I’m officially fucked in the head.

  “I think I need to go on a date. Maybe then I’ll stop thinking about him,” I tell Leanne, who laughs way harder than she should.

  “You never date, so I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  I roll my eyes. She’s not wrong. I know from experience that men are trouble in the long run. They say they love you, but they just leave in the end. I mean, ask my father…if you can find him. He said he would always love us, but he still disappeared when I was only seven, leaving me and my mother to fend for ourselves. All he left was a note saying that it was for the best that he wasn’t there anymore.

  He brought her to the U.S. from Mexico when sh
e was eighteen. He helped her get an education and stood by her side when she was in medical school. He was the best dad when I was little. I don’t even know how he could just leave us like that. I guess love doesn’t last forever for everyone.

  My mother cried herself to sleep every night, and when I was old enough to understand the situation, I promised myself that I would only give my heart and my body over to someone who truly cared for me. And men like that don’t exist.

  “I could set you up with my cousin if you’re serious about going on a date,” she says with a mischievous smile.

  “Fuck you. I am not going out with your creepy cousin who is thirty-five and still lives in your aunt’s basement,” I chuckle.

  She falls over on the couch, clutching her side from laughing so hard. I throw a pillow at her and eat more of my ice cream.

  Dating is a bad idea. I know that. So why can’t I stop thinking about that mysterious stranger?

  I feel my blood boiling as I clench my fists.

  “What is this asshole up to?” I ask myself as the man who stabbed me enters the library for the fifth time in three weeks.

  He has a bunch of kids with him, as usual. To the unsuspecting eye, he’s a good guy who helps underprivileged youth. In reality, he’s grooming these kids to be drug mules. The good ones will move up in the ranks eventually, if they survive that long, but they’ll never make it to the top. You have to be born and raised to make it that high. Just like this asshole, Joel Meringe.

  It makes sense that he would bring the kids to a library. He needs people to see him in public being the good guy. What I don’t get is, why this library? Why where Paige works? Why is he going where he stabbed me damn near two months ago?

  I pull my phone out and call Kyle, my IT guy.

  “I need details stat!” I yell.

  “I’m working as fast as I can,” he tells me.

  He sighs, and if I were face to face with him, I’d probably wrap my fist around his throat. I scrub a hand over my face.

  “Well, as fast as you can isn’t fast enough,” I insist. “Did you bug East Street Library like I asked you to?”