Page 11 of Petty's Crime

When I appear, Petty would be completely different. He’d no longer be relaxed. He’d be tense. There’d be no joking with me. Instead, there was sarcasm and sometimes direct rudeness, and that’s if and when he deigned to speak with me. Usually he’d settle for a disdainful look, and wouldn’t bother with conversation if he could get away with using a few grunts.

But today’s voice greets Roller in a very different way. There are a few back slaps, sure, but that’s followed by a whispered conversation, awhat the fuckexclamation, and absolutely no laughter at all. When footsteps approach the front door, there’s a “keep the shiny side up” salutation which seems a cursory afterthought.

Intrigued, I get dressed, rough dry my hair and pull it back into a ponytail—leaving it for Kylie to properly style it later—then descend the stairs to find a stranger making himself at home in my kitchen.

Petty and Roller aren’t on duty all the time. They do Wednesday to Sunday with the other two days being covered by Hammer and Shadow. Sarge, however, is always here during the night. He says if he can’t sleep anywhere, he may as well stay awake at mine. This man, though, I’ve never seen him before. But he’s wearing the Satan’s Devils cut and Roller let him inside so I’m not at all worried.

“Hey,” I greet him politely.

He swings around. He glances at me for a moment then gives a warm smile. “You look different on stage.”

I roll my eyes. What does he expect, for me to wear spandex and heavy makeup all the time? I ignore his comment. “You obviously know who I am. You are?”

“Cobra, ma’am. At your service.” He makes an exaggerated bow. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’m grabbing a coffee. You want one?”

This is so totally different to what I’ve become used to over the last two weeks. Normally after Roller’s gone, at best, Petty ignores me. He’ll do his rounds of the house, inside and out, clearly taking his work seriously. But there’s been no attempt at friendliness.

“I’ll take a cup.” Well, why not? It’s not often in my own house that I have someone to serve me. “It’s good you can multitask. Like making beverages and protecting me.”

My slight criticism doesn’t faze him at all. “Oh, I assure you, I’m quite skilled.” He winks at me as if inviting me to take that anyway that I want. “Roller told me it’s all been quiet.”

Just as it is most days, thankfully, with only the occasional reminder that my ex is still out there to keep me on my toes.

When he sent the first note, I was terrified to go out of the house, but as time passed, I realised hiding away was giving him a satisfaction he didn’t deserve.

It’s a fine balance between not letting him think he’s winning, and me being able to stay out of danger. Hence my bodyguards give me the space to live as normally as possible while keeping me safe.

It could be that the threats are serving their purpose, keeping me off balance and afraid, but I can’t take the risk that if I let down my guard, he might strike for real. I’ve been at Saul’s not so tender mercies one too many times already.

He knows my address. He knows where I work. I’ve had shit left on my car at the parking lot of the stores I frequent. Until the Satan’s Devils security team had come on board, I was scared wherever I went.

I like my privacy which I certainly don’t have now, but I’d rather sacrifice that than my life or my freedom. I just wish Saul would come out of the woodwork so we could put an end to this once and for all.

Not for the first time, I wonder whether my success has riled Saul, or whether he’d have chased me if I’d still been the girl that he’d known. I had an ordinary childhood, an ordinary life. Nothing much remarkable had happened to me until after Saul and I had parted. Then, determined never to be under the thumb of a man like him again, I sought to be independent. I joined a gym, got fit, and plucked up the courage to sing on stage. It wasn’t long until I was picked up by a talent scout and my career had taken off.

It was no secret in my hometown that I’d come to Vegas, but I was surprised Saul would follow me here.

It’s like he’s become obsessed with me.

As we sip our coffee, I notice, while he’s still paying me attention, Cobra keeps one eye on the window, and that his holster is visible under his cut. As he’s staying alert, I start to relax.

The question why Petty isn’t here enters my head. For the last couple of weeks, he’s been here on all the days he’s supposed to work. I’ve only just about tolerated him, and it should be a pleasant change to have someone different. Someone who seems far more approachable—Petty had never made coffee for me.

I should be happy I don’t have to put up with his scowling face, and glad that Cobra seems eager to please. But perversely, I miss the man I’ve gotten used to.

By the time I’ve swallowed the last of my coffee, my curiosity gets the better of me.

Rinsing my cup, I place it in the drainer. “So, why isn’t Petty here today?”

“Miss him?” Turning, I catch Cobra’s expression. He’s wearing yet another one of his grins. I’m beginning to suspect they’re his customary look. “I thought you might be relieved.” He chuckles. “He’s not the easiest person to get on with.”

I have tried to keep my thoughts on the man to myself. So either I’ve been unsuccessful and I’ve let too much slip about how obnoxious I find him, or his behaviour isn’t limited to me.

“Just curious is all.” I shrug. “No matter. I’m sure you all take time off, occasionally.”

Cobra takes out his gun, checks it, then puts it back in his holster again. “I’m just going to take a check around outside. As for Petty, apparently, he’s got some personal shit to deal with.”

Personal shit that’s none of my business from the closed-off look in Cobra’s eye. And why should it be?

---