Page 16 of Hiding In the Dark (The Righteous 4)
“You okay, dear?” The older woman asked as she leaned across the seat.
Ashley turned her attention back to the little grey-haired woman that was so tiny behind the wheel she wondered how she saw over it to see the road at all. “I’m great. Sorry about the delay.”
Masking her expression into one of serene calm, she turned to tell the man in question to go away, but he was gone. Like a fucking magician, he’d disappeared and stolen her moment. History loved to repeat itself.
Confused, she turned to look up and down the parking lot to the adjoining street but couldn’t see his grey-hooded form anywhere. The sidewalk was full of people, but not one of them was the imposing figure of Kes. His disappearance was unsettling, and she was tempted to ask the woman if there had been a man behind her a moment ago.
Maybe the brain issues were further along than she thought. Maybe her doctor was wrong, and she had less time than he thought. Maybe, she was simply going insane, and her mind was playing tricks on her because she was secretly hoping to see him again.
Nope, nope, nope, she was not going there again, no emotional freakouts. This was a breakdown-free space on a breakdown-free day. He’d been there. Her flushed body told her he’d definitely been there.
Picking up the hose, she squeezed the handle and tried as hard as humanly possible to put the annoying man from her mind.
* * *
For six freaking nights, he’d lurked in the shadows. For six nights, he had followed her home. And for six nights, he hadn’t slept as he imagined pushing her down and stealing the anger away from her body as she screamed his name.
He’d turned into a predator, stalking Ashley like those he usually hunted stalked their prey. He knew she was in bed by no later than eleven each night, that she liked souvlaki from the same place he did, and that she used straw-fucking-berry shampoo and body wash along with the lip gloss. He’d never be able to smell a strawberry again and not think of her while wanting to lick the taste off her body.
He cracked his neck, the tension building in his head. “Fuck, what the hell was I thinking?”
He’d had no intention of speaking to her again. He’d tried to convince himself that he was content to watch from a distance, but when that piece of shit drove up, he couldn’t stay out of it. Ashley was his. She’d always been his, and the claws of a need he’d thought was long dormant had resurfaced. As hard as he tried, that fucking needy demon was not laying back down.
Fuck, she’d smelled good, her sweet berry scent calling to him like a siren. When she’d bent over in front of him, he’d come dangerously close to grabbing her hips. With just one look, she’d flipped a switch, and he felt more like his old self, the self before his life turned upside down. The self that pictured a future where she played the starring role.
His hands could almost feel her soft skin and the silky strands of her hair running through his fingers. Red flags were waving in his brain, reminding him that he’d never be content with just watching her from a distance. He’d craved her since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, and he would happily rot in hell if it meant he got a taste.
He marched down the narrow alley to get as far away as possible before he could march back out there, drag her into a dark corner of the church, and fuck her up against the nearest available wall. If he were a crack addict, she was his crack, and he was jonesing bad. Muscles tight, cock hard, he felt crazy. Like a wild animal driven by instinct, he was hyper-focused on what he wanted—his body was a carnal mess of lust.
Letting out a grunt, he kicked the metal trash can he was about to pass and sent it and its contents flying as a stray cat took off at the loud bang.
His chest rose and fell with rage, his breathing as fast as his racing pulse. He clenched his fists and was tempted to make them bleed against the reddish brick.
Closing his eyes, he took a slow, shuddering breath as he reined in the beast of need that was riding him. He focused on nothing, pushing aside all thought so he could recalibrate his emotions.
Calmer, his eyes snapped open.
There was work to be done tonight. He needed to get his sex-riddled mind back on the tracks before the train ran into a wall. Taking one last deep breath, he marched toward his destination. Ashley was a fantasy of the past, but the fucker he’d been sat in the back of his mind and laughed at his resistance.
Tonight’s menu consisted of a fat, bearded fuck who always smelled like garlic sausage. His lip curled up as imaginings of what he was going to do to his next prey danced along the stage of his mind, like the Black Swan herself.
The lights and cameras were already set. All he needed was his newest cast member.
Ashley flopped down in the chair across from Dennis feeling waterlogged. There was not an inch of her that was not damp to varying degrees. Her shoes squished with every step like she had permanent fish bowls attached to her feet—it was her new most hated sensation, and she couldn’t wait to get home, showered, and into dry clothes.
Dennis was still counting the money from the car wash, so she took a moment to rub at the muscles in her legs that were quivering uncontrollably. It wasn’t the quivering that was unnerving, it was the fact that she could barely feel her hands rubbing at her legs. It was like the muscles or skin were numb—it was like they were asleep and yet not at the same time.
“You okay, Ashley?”
She stopped and looked up to see Dennis giving her a curious look. “Muscles are twitching, I need to drink more water. You’d think that after being soaked all day, I wouldn’t need to drink that much water.” She smiled, hoping he didn’t see through the bluff. “How did we do?”
He rubbed at his eyes and sat back in the badly beaten-up leather chair. “Considering it is a car wash, we did well, but at best we have an eighth of the needed money, or I can put this toward food since we are low on donations this month.”
“Are you sure?”
Dennis nodded. “I counted it twice.”
Placing the money in a bank deposit envelope, he stood up from the desk and grabbed his coat. “I’m sorry, Ashley, but it looks like this place will be closed in a few weeks.” He paused by the door—she’d never seen him look so dejected, and they’d seen some tough times there lately. “Maybe start praying for a miracle. I’m going home, maybe I’ll get to eat my dinner hot and see my wife for a change.”
