Page 21 of Property of Yak

I can’t forget it, though. I stared at it quite a while, using it as my focal point to forget everything that had happened.

“Hmm. Hold on.”

I continue to eat while she types in her phone, taking bites between whatever she is looking at. She isn’t finished by the time we are done, so I move around her, cleaning up the food and doing the dishes.

“I have it. The Kings of Anarchy. Did it look like this?”

She comes to my side, showing me the picture.

I gasp because yes. That is it.

She smiles. “I’m taking that as a yes. Cindy posted this picture. Let me text her and get more info.”

She texts away before her phone rings.

“Yeah. I want to meet someone from there.” She pauses. “I don’t know his name. I met him at a club.” Another pause. “Oh. That’s awesome. Are you sure it’s okay?” A third pause. “Can I bring my friend? Safety in numbers and all.” Silence. “No, she’s cool. Okay, thanks. Bye.”

The butterflies fill my stomach as she looks at me with a big smile on her face.

“They are having a party tomorrow night at their clubhouse. We have an invite.”

My heart pounds in my chest.

“Are we going?” she asks.

His face pops up in my mind.

“Yeah. We are.”

Yak

The snow is falling, but it doesn’t stop me from getting on my bike. It’s not the safest, but it’s where I prefer to be. I don’t care how much upkeep it takes to keep her running. I will always choose my bike over a cage.

Besides, she was locked up for most of December because of the blizzard.

I promise myself I’m only going on a little ride. Just around town.

Yet I find myself going down the streets I should be avoiding. The ones that lead me to her.

Julie.

We didn’t exchange names, but I called in a favor with my old friend Meek from Colorado.

I told him I only needed a name, but he sent over a whole file. I haven’t opened it. It’s bad enough I know her name and I’m practically stalking her. I don’t want to invade her privacy any more than I have to.

Pulling to the side of the road, I turn off my bike. I’m still several streets away, but I don’t want to draw attention to her. Pulling off my plate, I pocket it before I make my way through backyards until I make it to her house. My hands itch to knock on her door, but I don’t. Instead, I circle the house, checking each of her windows. She really needs to get a security system, but I’m proud that her house is locked up tight.

When I finally make it to her bedroom, I hate that I can’t see her through her heavy curtains. Then again, I’m glad no one else can see her either.

My mind hasn’t left her since the night I met her. I know it’s because she was hurt. I want to make sure she is okay. At least that is what I keep telling myself. Another part of me wants her. As sick as it is, I want to know what she looks like underneath me. I want to pull that beautiful blonde hair until she screams out my name.

I shouldn’t want that after what she went through, but I do. Fuck if I can help the fantasies I’ve had about her. I’m not a saint. She doesn’t need to be tainted by me, but I want to see bruises from my fingers mar her skin.

“Sleep well, Angel,” I whisper.

I’m about to leave when I hear a car pull up out front. I don’t miss the police lights on the car.

I hop the fence and hide in a neighbor’s bush as the cop circles the house.