Page 52 of Vipers & Roses

My attention is diverted by footsteps along the corridor outside my door. Since my apartment is at the very end of the stairwell that no one ever uses unless the elevators are broken, I’m always suspicious when I hear noises. Their feet shuffle and hesitate near my door, and I glance at the drawer that hides my handgun, considering grabbing it for protection. My rational mind tells me that the person might be lost or be friends with the people who live in the apartment opposite, yet as I wait for a knock at their door, I grow suspicious of this stranger’s intentions.

Tiptoeing to my door, I peer through the peephole and briefly spot a tattooed arm in a black T-shirt, but that’s all I can see before whoever it is walks off towards the elevator. Their steps are heavy and confident, and even though I have an urge to open the door to get a better look at him, I talk myself out of it. A flint of a memory stirs, bringing nausea with it.

The tattoo.

I saw it only briefly, so I might be wrong. No, I want to be wrong, but it looks awfully like the tattoo of The Crow, number three on my list. I call him The Crow because of the emblem crow tattoo on his arm of the professional football team he belongs to, the Angleton Crows, a city neighboring Torres Island if you travel north away from the coast.

I open the top drawer in my dresser and take out the photograph The Pig left in my bag. I’ve kept it out of sight since Z came over when I forgot to hide it. She said nothing about it, so I’m hoping she missed it.

Closely examining the four men, The Crow is the huge one with a thick, ruddy neck and hair shaved to the scalp. He’s quietly spoken but had the highest sex drive, I assume due to steroids he injects into himself, and he had his way with me more than the others. My eyes run over his massive biceps, and I spot the crow with wings spread wide and sigh in relief when I notice it’s different. The crow on the guy in the corridor was more prominent and had more color, blues, and reds to texturize the black feathers. At the same time, The Crow’s tattoo was flat black and smaller.

There is one man in this picture I struggle to look at: The Snake. He is beyond cruel, and his last name is on my list as he will be the most difficult to confront. But for now, I focus on number one—the Lion.

Time is flying, and I toss the photograph back into my drawer and step to my window to pull the blinds. I assess the lemon-yellow floral sundress again and decide it’s too flirty. I trade it for comfort clothes—white shorts and a vintage black Metallica T-shirt. I rub my underarms with deodorant and brush my long, thick, golden hair before tying it back into a swinging ponytail.

I find a strawberry lip balm in my bag and apply it to my lips, puckering them, then apply mascara to my long eyelashes. I throw a faded T-shirt into my bag for sleeping in, a pair of panties (actually, I better toss in two pairs if I decide to let Cormac slide between my legs), and my sports science study material from Willard’s class.

It’s after 8:09 PM, and it’ll take me approximately thirty minutes to get to his frat house. I'll take my sweet time because I don’t want to appear too keen.

Grabbing my keys and phone, I step to the door, fling it open, and gasp in fright at the man standing there looking at me. I press my hand against my chest to calm my racing heart, but it does little to help.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he states in his usual calm, friendly manner, yet my heart won’t stop hammering against my ribcage.

“I didn’t hear you,” I tell him apologetically.

He smiles and glances briefly down at my bare legs in short shorts, but not in a sleazy way because Detective just call me Gabe is far too classy and cool to perv over a woman’s legs openly. “I didn’t knock,” he informs me.

“No, I mean, I can usually hear footsteps before they arrive, but I didn’t hear you.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence where his blue eyes latch onto the bag over my shoulder and the door key in my hand. “Are you about to head out?”

“Yes, I’m not in a hurry and don’t have to be somewhere at a certain time,” I babble because this man does that to me. Then it occurs to me, “How do you know where I live?”

“I saw you from the street below the other day.” He’s talking about when he inspected the building opposite before they raided it last night. “And figured out what floor you’re on.”

“Oh, Gabe,” my heart gallops in anticipation, “is that poor elderly lady okay?”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” he glances down the hall at the sound of a door shutting. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Sure, but I apologize in advance for how cramped it is. Apartment built for one,” I stutter slightly, showing my nerves.

His cologne and his body heat and size infiltrate my small space. He’s about 6 feet 2 and in excellent shape going by those firmly fitted black pants and white buttondown. His neatly cut wavy salt and pepper hair is a damn sexy accessory to that square jaw and self-assured demeanor.

His hand slips into his pant pockets before I have a chance to search obsessively for a wedding ring, even though that day, when he came to campus to find me and hugged my wet body until I cried, he wasn’t wearing a gold band then either.

“This is nice,” he says, glancing about as he steps to the window and removes his hand from his pocket to open the drape to peer out.

“It’s enough for me, and the security is good here, too,” I tell him, wondering if he wants to assess the scene of last night’s incident from my side.

Gabe nods his silver head in understanding and meets my eye, “Good. I noticed the security guard downstairs in the foyer and the swipe card entry system on the main entrance.”

“Yeah, that’s either Larry or Carl who shares the shifts,” I say. “They’re good, friendly men.”

“Do you mind if I go out?” he gestures, pointing to the sliding door leading to the tiny balcony.

“Be my guest,” then panic when I remember leaving a blunt on the side of the pineapple experiment pot.

Gabe unlocks the glass sliding door and opens it, stepping outside. As I predicted, he immediately looked down at the apartment the man fell from and then up at the apartment directly opposite mine and the floor above.

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