Page 7 of The Devil's Playground

The last thing I needed was it getting back to the Playground that the club’s boss was stalking one of its waitresses. I stay away from them, but the amount of cameras—coupled with a few things I’ve picked up on since watching over Nicolette—has me sure that she’s not just being diligent. She’s looking out for something… and that gives me the perfect excuse to do the same.

That’s how I justify it. I’m watching her. I’m keeping her safe.

From what? I have no clue. From the outside, nothing. She goes to work, she goes to the house that’s in her mother’s name, and she lives alone while her mother is currently visiting family in Florida; I overheard her mentioning that to another one of our servers and turned that into further justification for keeping my eye on her. Taking as many shifts as she can to get the money that she needs, she’s at the Playground almost as much as I used to be, and when she isn’t?

She’s here.

And, fuck, I think to myself as I park my car in its usual spot down the street from her house, so am I.

TWO

THE DEVIL’S PLAYGROUND

NICOLETTE

Someone is stalking me.

I hate that I know the signs. I hate that I’ve lived a life that I don’t even need actual evidence to know that I’m right. When my gut goes off, the shivers running down my spine, and I hear that bastard’s whisper in my ear even though it’s been nearly three years since I saw him last… more than anything, I hate that he can still affect me after all this time.

I don’t know if it’s Kieran. That’s the worst part. Whoever it is is being very careful. In spite of the five separate cameras I have watching my home, I haven’t been able to catch anything out of the ordinary.

Of course, that just tells me that—from the outside—whoever is watching me is acting very ordinary. It’ll be someone passing by my street, covering their face so I don’t get a glimpse of it. Or… or parking their car just out of the range of my cameras.

Do I know that I sound fucking paranoid? I do. I can’t help it, though. Having spent eight years in an abusive relationship with a controlling partner who swore before I left that he’d never let me get away from him, believing he could be out there, watching, waiting… I need to be paranoid to stay safe.

But that level of high alert, of watching my cameras on my laptop, of checking my phone obsessively every time the doorbell camera goes off, is keeping me safe. I’m vigilant and wary, and because of that I’ve found a way to make it through day-to-day life.

I have to. Because if I didn’t?

I’d go fucking insane.

I won’t let him beat me down again. I absolutely refuse to let this faceless stalker turn me into the shell of Nicolette I was by the time I finally had enough and escaped Springfield the first time.

I thought it was for good. I should have known better. With my mother and her most recent husband—before their divorce early last summer—still living in Springfield, I think I always know I’d be dragged back here. I lived my first twenty-four years in this city, trading it for a small town six hours away where no one could find me, but when Mom got into her accident in August?

I never planned on coming back. Then again, my mother probably didn’t plan on getting hit by a car, either.

It was a freak accident. A hit and run. She lives on a slow street in the quieter downtown area of the city. No one ever pays attention to the posted speed limit signs, and some idiot clipped her when she was bringing her groceries in one morning. Seems like he took a turn too fast, sent her flying, and my Mom ended up with a broken hip.

At least, that’s how she explained what happened. She barely even saw the car before impact, none of her neighbors were around to witness it, and—at the time—she didn’t have cameras on her house.

I moved back in September, as soon as she got out of the hospital. The plan was to help her with everything she needed while she recuperated and recovered from surgery, then I could disappear to Willowbrook again. If I was smart and kept my head down, Kieran never needed to know I came home.

But because I’ve never forgotten what kind of man Kieran Alfieri is, I put cameras up my first weekend back.

I had no choice. Everything that happened when I was kid… maybe she missed the signs, but that’s because I willfully hid them. I couldn’t blame her for mistakes I made, and, these days, she doesn’t have anyone but me. Lance booked it to Europe once the no-contest divorce was signed, my Aunt Therese lives in Florida with her kids and she couldn’t fly up to help Mom recover, and that left me.

I planned on being gone by October. But then Mom had a set-back, I was running out of cash, and I got a job. After a month, I traded that job for another, and maybe Mom thought that I was settling in because, at the beginning of the year, she announced that she was feeling up to visiting my aunt in Florida for an extended stay.

She left the first week of January after begging me to house-sit. I’d watch over her house in Springfield, wouldn’t have to pay rent, and could leave again when winter was over and Mom returned.

I already sensed that someone was watching me. Here… at the Playground… I couldn’t really explain it and sound sane, but I couldn’t shake the feeling, either. Part of me knew I should tell Mom forget it. I couldn’t do it.

But, damn it, she’s my Mom. And not having to pay rent for a few months might be a blessing in disguise for me after ending the lease I had in Willowbrook. So I agreed, and it’s been a month and a half since she left me alone in her house, and as I pull my curtain back, peering out onto the empty street in front of me, I wonder how much longer I can stand it.

If Kieran finds me…

No. I shove the black-out curtain back into place.

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