Page 81 of Petty's Crime

It’s late, but I haven’t eaten all day. I enter the kitchen and pull some chili out of the freezer to reheat, getting rice ready to go with it. I pour myself a glass of wine, thinking I deserve that at least. Maybe I’ll down the whole bottle.

It will feel odd sleeping without Sarge in the next room, without hearing the comforting sound of his feet as he tries to pace quietly over the floor.But he’s one of them.It could easily have been him who’d taken that shot. That’s the kind of men they all are, otherwise, they wouldn’t be in an MC.

As I force the food down, I wonder how Petty is, and what’s happening to Britney. I’m going to miss him, the asshole part and all. He’d been a fixture in my life for the past few weeks. Going to the casino without him is going to be strange.

Spurred by my third glass of wine, I wonder what Kylie and I will have to moan about without him being there.

After rinsing my plate and putting in it the dishwasher, I drink the last dregs of wine rather than putting the bottle away. In the morning, I’ll need to contact Bart and tell him the danger to me has gone. He’ll be pleased that we can stop the money drain that providing my security has been.

I can move on.

Feeling decidedly lonely, I go to my bed. I thrash, toss and turn for what seems like forever, but just when I give up on sleep, my thoughts becoming jumbled, mercifully, I’m overcome by sleep.

When I wake, my head is pounding, and I down the glass of water I left by the bed. I take another shower, again not feeling clean, and dress for the day. I’ve just thrown on an old t-shirt and shorts, as I don’t plan on going anywhere until I leave for the casino. I’ve enough chores to keep me busy.

It had been the early hours before I’d eventually dropped off, so I’m yawning as I enter the kitchen. Hand over my mouth and jaw locked open, it takes me a moment to process there’s a strange man waiting for me.

“Who the fuck are you?” Strangely my first reaction is indignation rather than fear. I’m annoyed he’s standing between me and my coffee.

“You might not know me, but I know you.” He looks at me in a disturbingly assessing way. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, RoseLyn.”

Is he a crazed fan?“Well now you’ve met me, please leave my house.” I’m wondering how the hell he got in, then realise in the emotional state I’d been in when I’d returned last night, I don’t think I set the alarm.

“Oh, I’ll be leaving. But you’ll be coming with me.”

A flicker of fear rises. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Now please leave before I call the cops.”

He raises his hand, showing me he’s in possession of my purse. The purse which contains my lifeline otherwise known as my phone. I swallow hard when I realise I won’t be calling anyone.

I don’t know what he wants, or why he’s here, and don’t waste time asking him. Instead, knowing the keys to my car will be where I left them, on the table in the hall, I sprint and run in that direction.

But he’s as fast, faster than me, and rather than getting the jump on him, he must have expected my reaction. He lands against my back, making me fall to the floor, badly bruising my knees, and slamming my cheek into the ground.

Taking advantage of the fight literally being knocked out of me, he wrenches my hands behind my back, and ties them with something.

I roll, taking him by surprise, and kick with all my might, but he’s much bigger and easily overpowers me.

“I don’t care if I hurt you. Don’t even care if I don’t keep you alive. But I prefer to take you. Your choice. Am I going to leave your body in this house, or are you coming with me?”

His eyes are so dark there’s almost no white, and he doesn’t seem completely sane. It’s quite clear he knows that I’m hurting, yet has no pity for me. Unlike Petty, he has no problem using his extra bulk and weight to overpower a woman.

It’s a Hobson’s choice. I’m damned whether I do or don’t. But the only sensible option would be the one that keeps me alive with a promise of a future escape.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Good girl.”

How I hate that phrase. It’s so damn condescending. And the last thing on my mind is to be a good girl for him.

I’ve no idea what he wants, but doubt it’s to rape me. Otherwise why not do that here, when he’s got me at his mercy?

I’m not given much time for thought as he drags me to my feet and bundles me out through the door. There’s a strange vehicle on my drive parked behind my car. He leads me to it, but stops by the door and forces a scarf or something around my mouth. Effectively gagging me, he opens the trunk.

I’m not going in there.While my phobia of snakes is greater than my fear of enclosed spaces, being in there lessens my chance of escape. Especially with my hands bound behind me.

But he proves again how easy it is for him to overpower me, and my delaying tactics only get me a bump to my head which make me see stars, and then I’m lying, curled in the fetal position as the trunk’s shut on me.

Darkness descends and fear hits in full force.

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