by Sam Mariano
“Please don’t do this,” she says quietly. “I know I made a bad mistake. I know it was wrong and maybe I deserve to be punished, but you don’t have to do this. I’ll go away, I promise. I already went away. I had no intention of ever seeing Theo again even before you showed up, I swear. I’m not going to cause anyone any trouble. I just didn’t want an abortion, that’s all. I didn’t ask him for anything and I never will. Bri never has to find out. She’ll never even see me again. I promise it’ll be like it never happened for you guys.”
“Not for you, though, huh?” I point out. “Why do you wanna do that? You’re young, got your whole life ahead of you—why tie yourself to a worthless shit like Theo?”
“It’s not about him,” she says. “I wouldn’t be tied to him. I knew he wouldn’t…” She pauses, considering, then I hear her swallow. “I never wanted or expected his life to change because this happened. I didn’t want Bri to know, I didn’t want him to leave her and the boys. I didn’t have malicious intent. It’s not like I planned to get pregnant… I just wasn’t sleeping with anyone, so why would I have been on the pill or brought condoms with me to a babysitting job? It just happened, and then it just happened again, and if it had been a regular enough thing, then yeah, I probably would have looked into birth control, but I didn’t think we were going to do it again. I didn’t even think he’d ever call me again, but then Bri asked me to come out of the blue, and… It was just an accident. It was all an accident,” she finishes quietly.
Given my sister’s the one who could’ve gotten hurt, I could probably be madder at her about all this, but it’s pretty clear to me Alyssa was in over her head and got swept up in a situation she had no business being part of in the first place.
It’s not her I blame; it’s Theo. He’s a grown-ass man, and she was 17 the first time he fucked her. She didn’t know what the hell was happening, but he did. He had no business ever touching her, and now because he did, her life’s gone to shit. The affair was Theo’s crime even more than it was hers—he’s the asshole who made vows to my sister, but this vulnerable young girl is the only one paying for it.
It’s not right.
None of this is right.
Heaving a sigh, I look down at my cock apologetically. “Sorry, buddy.”
A little confused, the girl says, “What?”
Before I can change my mind, I climb off her. Once I’m off the bed, I tuck my aching dick away then bend down and grab her nightgown off the floor. Tossing it to her on the bed, I tell her, “Put this back on.”
The girl is startled, but she doesn’t question her good fortune. Quickly, she tugs her nightgown back down over her naked body. Then she just sits there for a second and looks at me. “You’re… you’re not gonna hurt me?”
I don’t like the way her words prod my conscience. I haven’t had much use for a conscience for most of my life. I still don’t, but there’s just something about the way everything is going down that doesn’t settle right in my gut.
“Not right this second,” I tell her, glancing around the small but tidy room. “You got a suitcase?”
Her eyes widen and she shakes her head.
I cock an eyebrow. “You don’t? Who doesn’t have a suitcase?”
Her tone is guileless, but her words do more to drive home how fucking inexperienced she is than anything she could say to try to make me feel bad. “I’ve never been anywhere.”
I stare at her for a long moment, her in her pale blue nightie, looking like something out of a more adult version of Peter Pan. I get the feeling low in my gut, in a place that never lies to me, that this girl’s gonna be a whole heap of trouble if I let her be.
If I’m smart, I’ll walk straight over to that nightstand beside her bed, grab my gun, and blow her brains out like I’m supposed to do. I won’t give her a chance to change my mind, and I won’t have to hear another innocent thing out of that pretty little mouth, clawing at a conscience that shouldn’t have a hand on the wheel anymore.
If I let her live, she’ll be trouble, plain and simple.
So, I shouldn’t.
I walk over to the nightstand and grab my gun. I look back at her on the bed, waiting for fear to grab her again, for her to gasp or crawl away in terror, but she just sits there and looks at me like she wonders what I’ll do next.
“Why aren’t you afraid of me anymore?” I demand.
Her eyes widen at the bite in my voice. She shifts and fidgets with her nightie, looking away from me. “Well, I am, but you said you’re not going to hurt me right now.”
Because I fucking said it—that’s her reason? Because she believes what I say, after I broke into her house and damn near raped her, after telling her I came here to kill her?
That’s a shitty fucking reason, but I like it.
I like it a lot.
Heaving a sigh, I tuck my gun in the back of my waist-band and look around her room for something that could serve the same purpose as a suitcase. I spot a big pink handbag hanging off the closet door, so I point to it.
“Go grab that,” I tell her.
Quiet as a mouse, she climbs off the bed and scurries over to retrieve the bag, then she turns back to me expectantly. “What do I need it for?”
“Put some clothes in it.”
“Why?” she asks, staring at me.
Offering her a crooked smile, I tell her, “I’m about to take you on your first weekend getaway. If you don’t want clothes, we can just leave, but I thought you might not want to be naked the whole time.”
The veiled threat of making her stay naked all the time does the job of extinguishing her curiosity. Instead of questioning me further, she stops wasting time and starts filling the bag.
3
Brant
When I turn onto the long, dark path up my driveway, the girl hugs her bag close to her chest and casts a worried look my way.
My house is set back off the road because I value my privacy. It’s the dead of night and there aren’t any lights on this stretch of road, so beyond the shadow of trees, she can’t tell there’s a house at the end of all this dirt and gravel. It must look like a dark path to nowhere, and she probably has some idea of what that could mean for her.
Swallowing, she says, “Where are you taking me?”
This must feel like something right out of a horror movie to her, poor little thing. Without sparing a glance in her direction, I tell her, “I told you, I’m taking you to my place.”
“Your house?” she questions, looking at the path ahead of us, illuminated by my headlights and not much else.
“My house,” I verify. I could expand on that and explain it’s set back a ways on the property, but she’ll see for herself soon enough.
A couple seconds pass, then I feel her staring at me again. “What do you think of the name Mackenzie?”
I look over at her. “It’s a nice name.”
She nods, holding my gaze, looking real nervous. “I was thinking about maybe calling her that if the baby’s a girl. She could go by Kenzie for short. I haven’t thought of any good boy names yet.”
Still looking at her as the truck slowly rolls down my drive, I crack a smile. “Are you trying to remind me you’re pregnant in case I’m planning to kill you at the end of this car ride?”
Her cheeks flush and she looks out the passenger window. It’s too dark to see anything; she just wants to look away from me. “I could never kill someone who was pregnant,” she mutters.
Her subtle attempt at a guilt trip amuses the hell out of me. “But you could kill someone who wasn’t?”
She pauses then grumbles, “No, probably not.”
“Just probably?”
Shrugging her shoulders, she says, “Maybe if someone I loved was in danger and their life depended on me doing it. I don’t know.”
I consider her words as my house comes into view. She’s still looking out the side window and doesn’t see it, but I figure she’ll look ahead in a second. “That makes sense. I s
uppose most folks feel the same way.”
Her gaze snaps back to me since I left myself out of that supposition. “But not you?”
“Killing doesn’t do anything for me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I answer vaguely.
“That’s not what I asked. Have you ever killed anyone before?”
“Yep,” I answer as I ease my truck into park. We’re here now, but she’s still looking at me, transfixed.
“For real?” she asks, a thread of awe in her voice.
I look over at her, expecting to see some kind of dim horror, but it’s more mild fascination on her pretty, tearstained face. “Yep, for real,” I verify. “I was younger than you. First time was an accident, but it still cost a life.”
She seems to take on the weight of my admission, leaning back against the seat, looking a little worse for wear. “That’s terrible,” she says quietly. “That must have been so traumatic for you.”
For me? I cock an eyebrow. “Yeah, pretty sure the person it happened to wasn’t too happy about it, either.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then she says, “You said the first time. So, you’ve done it more than once?”
I look at her for a second, then pull the lever on my door and swing it open. I climb out of my truck without answering. “Come on,” I tell her. “Don’t waste your breath screaming, either. In case you didn’t notice on the way here, nearest neighbor’s about a mile up the road. I don’t expect you can scream loud enough for anyone to hear you.”
Alyssa doesn’t say anything, just opens the door and hops out, walking around the truck and following behind me like I’m someone trustworthy enough to follow.
“My dog’s probably asleep, but I expect we’ll wake him up,” I tell her, glancing back to make sure she’s still behind me. She walks so quietly, I can hardly hear her. Last thing I need is her darting off into the forest in the dead of night. I’d have to go after her and make sure she didn’t break her goddamn neck.
She’s still back there, though, looking at me with her big Bambi eyes. “Is it a friendly dog?”
“Friendly enough. Might be startled by the sight of a stranger coming into the house, though, so keep behind me until I let him know it’s okay.”
She follows me up the worn path to my front door and waits while I unlock it. Soon as the doorknob turns, Scout must wake up, because a little blur of black and tan fur comes barreling at the door to lick me hello. He skids to a stop when he sees I’ve got someone with me. He cocks his head then lets out a low, uncertain bark and looks up at her.
“She’s all right,” I tell him, bending down and petting the top of his head, right between his floppy ears.
“Aw, what a pretty dog,” Alyssa says, dropping her bag on the ground and kneeling so she’s closer to his height. “Hi, puppy. I’m Alyssa.”
Not much of a guard dog, apparently, because all it takes is the sound of her sweet voice luring him over for Scout to run right to her, tail wagging so hard his little body can’t quite move in a straight line.
Alyssa giggles and tips her head up as he paws at her nightie and starts licking her jaw while she pets him. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” she tells him. Looking up at me with a spark of pleasure in her eyes, she asks, “What’s his name?”
“Scout.”
The traitorous little mutt looks back at me at the sound of his name but stays with her, leaning against her legs while she rubs his side. “What kind is he? He’s gorgeous.”
“A mutt,” I offer. “Labrador and German Shepherd, mainly. Should be more keen on protecting me than kissing the face off an intruder,” I say pointedly. Scout ignores my criticism and licks the back of Alyssa’s hand, looking up at her all lovey-dovey.
Amused, Alyssa hugs his neck, then she looks up and says, “He probably figures you can defend yourself against the enormous threat I present.”
Not so sure about that, but I just shake my head and make my way toward the kitchen. “Come on, you faithless little shit. You want some food?”
Scout barks and goes running ahead of me. I don’t know whether or not the girl will follow me, but when I get to the kitchen and grab some food for the bottomless pit that is my canine companion, I see her hanging back in the doorway, watching.
“You like dogs?” I ask, just to make conversation. It’s clear she does, but I figure maybe she’s not as comfortable with silence as I am.
She nods her head, absently drifting a few more inches into the kitchen. “Yeah. We used to have one, but we didn’t have a fence and he liked to sneak out of the house every chance he got. One day he got out and got hit by a car. He was a mutt, too, a rescue. I’m not sure what kind. I think he had some shepherd in him, though.”
“They’re good dogs,” I remark.
“They are,” she agrees. She’s quiet for a minute or two while I get Scout some food and put his bowl on the ground. He acts like he’s never eaten in his life, trying to snatch a bite before I even get it all the way down. “He seems hungry,” she says.
“He’s always hungry,” I explain. “I left a bowl out for him all the time when I first brought him home, but he was eating me out of house and home. The vet told me to just feed him at set times or he’d put on too much weight, but it’s not always easy when I’m working long hours.”
“What do you do?” she asks, drifting a little closer.
“I own a bar in town. Takes up a lot of my time.”
“Oh. That’s cool.” She misses a beat, biting down on her bottom lip. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”
I flick a glance in her direction. “I said Bri was my twin, didn’t I?”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t know how old Bri is.”
“Know how old her husband is?” I toss back.
Sighing softly, she looks away. A little dejected, she says, “Never mind.”
I shouldn’t mind disappointing her, but I find myself asking, “How old do you think I am?”
“I don’t know, thirty?” she guesses.
“Close.”
She waits for me to tell her. When I don’t, she asks, “Are you really gonna make me guess?”
My lips tilt up in amusement at how impatient she is. “I’m 35,” I tell her.
“Oh, wow,” she murmurs, too open to hide her surprise. “That’s…”
“Just about twice your age, yes.”
“I wasn’t going to say that,” she objects. Looking around, apparently for some sign of another person, she asks, “You live here all by yourself? No wife or kids?”
“Never got around to it.”
“You didn’t want any of that?” she asks.
“I would’ve liked having a couple rugrats running around, but I can’t do that by myself, now, can I?”
She wanders even closer. “Didn’t you want to get married?”
I offer her a mild smile. “What makes you think anyone ever wanted to marry me?”
“I’m sure someone did, sometime,” she says rather dismissively.
I shrug. “Never met the right person, I guess.”
I get Scout some fresh water and watch him finish scarfing down his food, then I let him outside so he can relieve himself before I head to bed.
The prospect of going to bed makes me think of how much I complicated my fucking life tonight. I had no intention of bringing a prisoner back to my house. I’ve gotta open the bar tomorrow, and I don’t know what I’ll do with her while I’m gone. I’m not even sure what I’ll do with her tonight.
I look over at her, absently keeping an eye on Scout like it’s her responsibility. Her back is to me and she’s still wearing that flimsy nightgown since I didn’t give her time to change before we left. She’s bathed in moonlight, same as she was a little bit ago when I first saw her.
Damn, she is pretty. Her honey blonde hair is swept back in a loose braid that hangs halfway down her back. Smooth, shapely legs peek out from beneath her nightgown.
I’m tempted to tell her to take
it off again so I can get a better look at her. It’s not like there’s anyone else in the house to see her, and while I gave her a temporary reprieve and decided not to defile her in her own bed, I still plan to get those clothes off and bury my cock deep inside her before I let her sleep tonight.
I wonder if she knows that. Maybe she’s being friendly right now because she thinks she’s getting me on her side. Maybe she thinks I won’t touch her if she’s nice, because she doesn’t know my cock stirs just looking at her standing there in her innocent little nightgown in the moonlight.
Maybe she thinks I’m better than I am.
I focus on finishing my nightly routine, but I’m thoroughly distracted thinking about the girl with a mix of dread and lust. Dread, because I don’t want to fight her again, but my blood is so hot just thinking about touching her bare back, another struggle is probably inevitable. At her house I could keep her in hand with the threat of hurting her family, but I doubt that’ll work out here.
I clear my throat and adjust my pants. They’re getting too tight in the crotch. I look up at her right as she looks back at me to see if I was trying to get her attention.
I wasn’t, but some part of me thinks I should warn her. Don’t know what good it’ll do, I guess, but I don’t like the idea that she’s being nice because she thinks I’ve let her off the hook. That’ll only lead to her feeling betrayed when I haul her upstairs and prove her wrong.
I debate for a minute but end up letting her have these last few moments of peace, assuming she’s thinking I’ve changed my mind.
I bring Scout back in once he’s had enough time to do his business, then I grab the bag Alyssa put down and nod in the direction I want her to go.
Wordlessly, she follows me up the stairs.
The bedroom’s dark, but I don’t bother turning on the light. Pointing at the door leading to my bathroom, I tell her, “You can get ready for bed in there.”
“Is this your bedroom?” she asks, looking around the sparsely furnished room.