Page 14 of Fetch

“I don’t drink,” I grit out.Not anymore.

“Wells, what the fuck you want?” He loses his footing and wobbles to the side, smacking into the kitchen counter.

“I’m here to kill you. You shouldn’t have touched my girl, Bryce.” I remove the hunting knife from my jacket pocket and inch toward him.

His eyes glaze. “Who da hell is Bryyyce?” he slurs.

I chuckle. “That’s the name I give all douchebags. Isn’t that what you are, Bryce?”

He licks his lips and tilts his head. “Yeah. So? I’m drafted. I’m going there. To the football place.”

Holy fuck, this man is obliterated. He’s so pathetic I can’t stand to look at him anymore. “No, buddy. You’re not. You’re a thirty-five-year-old out of shape drunk who likes preying on young pretty girls.”

“Hey, fuck you.”

I grin beneath my mask. “Shhh, it’s time.”

He doesn’t notice the knife until it’s plunging into him. He gasps and looks down. “You stabbed me. Fuck.”

I cover his mouth with my gloved hand. “I am extremely protective of my girl. I can’t allow you to get away with putting your filthy hands on her.”

I press my forearm into his neck and pin him to the counter while he flails against me. He’s top-heavy, but I’m stronger than him. My knee might be fucked up, but the rest of me is hard, lean muscle. I twist the knife in his gut and pull up, splitting him open from belly button to nipple.

His cries are gargled. He shakes violently in my grasp. Blood gushes from his torso, coating the linoleum as it pools at our feet.

“That’s it. Let it all go,” I coax.

His pulse slows along with his breath. I count to ten and pull out the knife. His eyes roll back, and his body goes slack. As soon as I step back, he slumps to the floor.

I let out a deep breath. “You should’ve gone to a different record store, buddy.”

I rinse off my knife in the sink, careful not to touch any of his moldy dishes, and slip it back into my jacket. I look down at the mess I made of him and smirk. This is so much better than snorting cocaine.

As I walk out the front door, I decide to leave it wide open, as I had originally found it. The cops will assume he was drunk and forgot to close it, which is true, and that it was a robbery gone bad. On that thought, I double back in and take the cash from his wallet and the rings off his fingers.

I remove the tracker from his truck and casually walk down the street toward my bike. I let out a sigh as the engine roars to life. Another victory and one less creep trying to get at my girl. I don’t care how many assholes I have to kill. Roxy belongs to me.

Ifeel ridiculous. There’s no way ComeFindJack11 was being serious, right? And yet here I am, sitting on my couch in a T-shirt and sweats, wearing nipple clamps. Maybe when I fell and tore my ACL, I hit my head too. I must have fucking brain damage. What other logical reason could there be for me acting like a whore with a stranger on the internet?

I make myself a mocktail instead of an alcoholic beverage, testing myself to see if I can act like less of a slut around this man when I’m sober. Although, liquid courage would be helpful right now as I power up my console and my headset, my hands trembling around the controller.

There’s a game already in session when I check the message board, finding a group invite from RageMachine. I draw in a deep breath and click on it.

“Jilly!” Juniper shrieks, always careful to call me by my gamertag when new players have joined. Jack might be the it boy of the gaming world, but he’s still a stranger. I’m grateful she still has some sense about her after calling me out last night for jumping off early.

“What’s up, guys? Miss me?”

Skat and RageMachine both snort at the same time and mumble something about my character slowing them down.

“There she is,” Jack announces.

My belly flips, and I’m suddenly very aware of the cold metal clamps pinched around my nipples. “Hi, Jack,” I say on a breath.

“Did you do that thing I told you to?” His voice is deeper tonight.

“I-I did…”

“What thing?” Juniper squeaks.

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