Page 15 of Stalked

I probably already overstepped, but then again if he didn’t want me walking around, he should’ve locked the door. Shrugging my shoulders, I bypass the living room and kitchen. The living room is more enticing anyway.

Doors line up against the hallway, but I don’t stop until I reach the one at the end. The light shines from beneath the door, and the more nervous I get about opening it the more I want to. I just can’t leave things alone; it’s been an issue since I was a child. It’s probably the reason I got beat so much.

My hand reaches for thedoorknob.I shouldn’t do this, I really shouldn’t… I can’t.I twist the handle, pushing it open. My eyes are immediately drawn to a set of large French windows, going from wall to wall. A dark oak desk sets in front looking towards the door. It’s plain, nothing but a small stack of papers, a pen, and a simple laptop.

God, why is he so damn boring?

Glancing to my left, a sectional, a coffee table, and a small bookshelf sits. Simple and again, so boring. The walls are dark gray, the floor the same dark wood the rest of the house is. For fucks sake I need to talk to his interior designer because first they did a shit job and second, they surely need to be fired.

Stepping further in, my hand reaches towards the desk, feeling the wood against my fingertips. I don’t know much about real wood or fake wood, but this definitely feels real. My eyes snag to the folder that lies on top of the stack of paper.“Biznes.”

“Kto ty!” someone yells behind me. Swinging around, a gun points at me, their finger too close to the trigger for comfort.

“Uh, what?” My hands twist together, my heart pounding as the memories come racing forward. The number of times they pulled a gun on me, the number of times I’ve been pistol-whipped.

“Spuskat'sya. Idi k chertu!”

Shaking my head, I don’t understand what he’s saying. Why is he yelling at me?

“I..I.” My voice shakes…Jesse stands there in front of me, his gun pressed against my head. The threats of blowing my brains out. I know he means it; I know he does. No one but Izel cares about me here. No one cares about us. We’re used as punching bags, we’re nothing.

“POLUCHAYTE NAKHER. SEYCHAS!” I’m brought back, the cool touch of metal presses against my forehead. My eyes slowly adjusted to the fact I hadn’t noticed him moving forward, or the facthe was still screaming words at me. I couldn’t understand what he was saying. It was all a different language.

I step back, trying to put some space between us, but as I try to come up with my escape plan, he lunges for me. My body twists around, my back up against his chest, bile rising in my throat.

“Let me go,” I whimper, my voice failing, the anger coursing through my veins. But as much anger as I feel, fear crawls its way through my skin. I’m trapped. There is no way I can fight this guy. I’m short for a male, I’m skinny, and weaker than a damn rat against a fucking trap.

“Ostanovis.” That familiar voice calls from behind us. Both of our bodies freeze, only I relax because I know that voice. I might not fully know him, but I have the odd sensation that he won’t hurt me.

“YA nashel yego kopayushchimsya v tvoikh veshchakh,” the man holding onto me growls, refusing to back down. I don’t know why he’s not listening, but the suit man suddenly rips him away, causing my body to fall against the desk.

“Kogda ya tebe prikazyvayu, ty, chert voz'mi, slushayesh'. Vy ponimayete?” he growls. Turning my head around, my eyes drop down to his hands fisted at his side.

“Da,” the other grunts, anger filling the air.

“Podozhdi na postu,” suit man orders, his shoulders shaking as he breathes heavily. I don’t see the man leaving, just the sound of the door quietly being shut. Now a normal, sane person would probably start freaking out, maybe even run for the hills. But I’ve never been normal, probably from the number of times I was dropped on the head.

“It’s not polite to cum on someone's face and not at least get them off.”What the fuck? Why did I just say that?Out of everything I could have said, literally anything in the world, I chose to tell him that.

“Hmmm,” he hums, shoving those hands into his pockets. My eyes drop to his ass. I never got the chance to look at it before. But now,damn,I might not be a top, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to devour that peach.

“It’s not.” I might as well go with it. “Also, do you ever plan on telling me your name?” I ask, fidgeting. I don’t like staring at his back, and I don’t like that he’s once again refusing to say anything to me.

When he doesn’t say anything, I decide to pull my inner sister out and walk around his desk. Sitting down, I kick my legs up and decide to get comfortable. He obviously works here, which means the only way he’ll get me to move is if he talks to me. Ha, one for Gabriel, zero for suit man.

Slowly he turns around, raising a brow when he sees me not in fact standing behind him, but instead sitting at his desk.

“Silence bothers me. I don’t do well with it either. Which you know it’s kind of weird with the way I grew up. So, let’s talk, or well since you don’t seem in the mood to talk, just nod your head. Will that work for you? You know, my sister’s husband was the same way when they first met. He looked at her like she was crazy because she talks nonstop. Even to this day.” I laugh, remembering when I first met him. His gun was aimed at me, and Izel just walked up to him, waving her hand, ordering him to put it away. Then I drowned myself in McDonalds’', and the rest was history.

And just like how Zion used to stare at Izel, like she needed to stop talking was the same way this man was staring at me. For some reason, I didn’t mind. I liked that he was confused.

“So, first question I got, did you…” Using my finger, I slid it across my neck. “Yah know, Billy?”

Slowly, turtle slow, he nodded his head.

“Interesting.Well, thank you for that. You know, the question you had asked earlier, about him hitting me? He hit me once before, a few days before that night. He was asking about you, wanting to know if I said anything about him.”

Suit man crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at me. I’d like to think he was getting mad because someone hurt me and not being that I did something.

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