Camouflage (Predator and Prey #1)

by Angelica Chase

  Laz nodded again and turned to me, a deep sadness in his features. Somehow, he knew then that my mother was the bane of my existence, and I nodded in reply. He simply replied, “I’m going,” then got on his bike and left.

  I turned to my mother just as she lifted the glass pipe to her mouth and sat down on the top step. She’d never made any effort to hide her addiction and I prayed Laz wouldn’t look back to witness her taking a hit.

  “That boy is trouble for you, and I better not see him again, got me?” She exhaled a steady stream of chemicals as Amber screamed from the kitchen.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said grudgingly.

  “Get inside. You know we have things to do.”

  I nodded, picked a rag out of the bucket then I stepped into the house. The house we lived in was spotless, but on a daily basis, she made it her mission to soil every single rag we had with cleaning. Her addiction drove her to madness as my father kept to the fields, ignoring her and us as we were made to work day and night, sometimes to the early hours of morning cleaning a spotless house.

  “You’d think you’d know better than to bring a friend here,” she hissed as she followed me inside. I pulled a piece of ice out of the freezer and handed it to my sister who was still howling from thirst. After she’d wet the bed last night, my mother swore she wouldn’t have another thing to drink. Amber, who was only three years old, took the ice greedily and sucked it while choking on her subsiding sobs.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” my mother hissed, taking the ice from her and fueling her cries.

  “Momma, it’s hot. She hasn’t drank anything today,” I said in her defense as Amber threw herself on the cheap, chipped laminate floor.

  I felt the slap on Amber’s thighs as she screamed louder and looked up to me for help. My mother hit her again and again as I began to scream with my sister.

  “Stop, please, Mama, stop!” I begged as Amber’s voice went hoarse before she let out another loud cry.

  When she refused to let up, I dropped the rag I was using to clean the staircase and walked up to my mother as she continued to redden my sister’s thighs with vicious slaps. I reared back, struck her across the jaw with my open hand, and heard her surprised “oh” as she stumbled back. I was only eleven years old, but I knew then that I might be taking my last breaths. Still, I’d resigned myself to punishment of the worst kind. Anything was better than hearing my sister cry. My mother stood to her full height as I braced myself for her wrath. Thinking fast, I grabbed Amber and ran out of the house into the field, flagging my father down. Looking annoyed, he stopped his sad excuse for a tractor as he saw me rushing to him.

  “Daddy, she’s doing it again. She’s hitting Amber over and over. You’ve got to stop her!”

  “Taylor Jean,” he barked with an eye roll, “what have I told you about getting in your mother’s way!”

  “She was hurting her, Daddy!”

  He wiped the sweat off his brow as my mother screamed for me from the house, hell and fury in her voice.

  “Get back inside and take your punishment,” he said, irritated.

  Feeling the frustration roll inside of me, I couldn’t stop myself. “You ain’t no real daddy! You are chicken shit. A real daddy wouldn’t let her hurt us!”

  My father’s shocked face didn’t stop me. “She’s a crack whore just like Aunt Stephanie said,” I unleashed as Amber cried in my arms. My father dismounted the tractor and stood above me as my sister trembled in my arms.

  “You don’t like the way things are around here, missy, you can get.” I shook my head as he gripped my upper arm and pulled me toward the house.

  “Daddy, please for once just tell her not to hit Amber. Please, Daddy.” I begged and begged to no avail as he dragged me into the house with Amber still in tow and deposited us on the living room floor. He looked up at my mother as a sinister smile covered her face.

  “Handle your daughters,” he barked as he gave me one last look.

  When the screen slammed shut, I looked on as my father crossed the drive back into the field. I swore from that day on I would never trust a man to protect me.

  That Saturday, I was at home running on my treadmill and burning off a binge of tacos I’d partaken in the night before. I was on my third mile when I spotted a dark figure at the door.

  “What the fuck,” I screamed as I tumbled off my treadmill and landed on the floor. I was on my feet in seconds as I looked up to a howling Daniello. He looked gorgeous in black slacks and a t-shirt.

  Fire raced through my veins as I took the two steps to confront him.

  “How the hell did you get into my condo!”

  He raised a brow. “Not happy to see me?”

  “Not at all and answer my question,” I snapped as his chuckle slowed, but his smile deepened.

  “If I want in, I get in,” he smarted back as I brushed past him, my breathing heavy. I didn’t want him to see I was turned on. He stopped me and brought me back to him. I was covered in sweat and he smelled like a man, and soap and heaven, reminding me of our last encounter. I wiggled to get away as he held me tightly to him and whispered in my ear.

  “You missed me a little,” he chided, feathering my hard nipple with his fingertips, his breath whispering over my goose bump covered skin.

  “Let’s get something straight,” I said, still wrapped in his embrace, eyeing the alarm on my front door. It was lit green and I couldn’t understand how he’d bypassed my system completely. “You are not welcome here any time you choose. You want to pl—” My sentence was cut short as his hand slipped beneath the thin fabric of my sweats. “Play,” I finished. “You make arrangements to play.”

  “I want to lick your pussy,” he whispered as I involuntarily shivered in his arms. “Just a taste before I leave.” He scooped me up and carried me to my couch, taking off my sneakers. “I have been craving you, Taylor. Does this please you?”

  I didn’t answer as he eyed me, pulling down my sweats and then my panties to spread my legs.

  “Don’t send me flowers. I think you knew better,” I said as he kissed the inside of my thigh.

  He paused his movements, his hands braced on my thighs, and his stare turning deadly.

  “I do not fucking take orders,” he said with menace, his fingers digging roughly into my skin. My lips parted at his change in demeanor. He’d gone from playfully sexy to downright deadly in mere seconds.

  And with the introduction of his wrath, the spark of need I was feeling turned into addiction.

  Noticing my change, Daniello quickly removed his hands from my thighs. “What a fucking shame,” he sighed.

  “What is?” I asked, lifting myself up to sit on the couch and pulling a blanket over my naked bottom half.

  He stood with a sigh, his erection bulging, and just inches from my watering mouth.

  “That fucking mouth,” he snapped as he walked toward my front door. Turned on and completely confused, I rambled after him.

  “Look, I’m sorry. It was a nice gesture but I like to keep my professional life—”

  “You will receive no such kindness from me again, I assure you,” he said, his hand on my door. “Goodbye, Taylor.”

  “Wait ...what?” I stood and wrapped the blanket around me. “Look, you caught me off guard, breaking into my house and I’m ...”

  No, Taylor, fuck that. This is a power struggle ...He’s playing with you.

  “See you around, Daniello,” I spouted, lifting my chin defiantly.

  A slow satisfied smile covered his features before he opened the door and closed it behind him.

  I walked quickly to the door, armed the system then threw the blanket to the floor. The ache between my legs refusing to ease, I decided on a hot shower and my hand. I stalked toward my bathroom, but only made it a few feet before I heard my alarm disarm. I turned to look back and saw the green light and wiped my hand down my face in frustration.

  I picked my phone up from the counter and made a quick text to Ce
dric.

  Me: Damned alarm has gone haywire. I need it checked out and fast.

  Cedric: I can be there tomorrow morning.

  Me: See you then.

  Cedric would know within minutes what was wrong with it. I trusted him implicitly. He’d installed it only a year ago. If there was an issue, he’d fix it. I’d have the locks changed as well.

  Throwing my soaked sports bra and t-shirt on the floor, I turned on the shower and stepped in, already massaging my soaked center. Fury rolled through me as I fought hard to relieve myself and failed. If I’d only shut my mouth and let him do his bidding, I was sure I’d be gasping in release.

  I moved my hand furiously, coming up empty as the hot water dripped over my aching slit, even more convinced I hated our arrangement. He’d said goodbye, and if that meant it was already over, I cursed him further for the state he’d left me in.

  It was a shame...my fucking mouth.

  “It’s fine, Taylor,” Cedric said as he pulled the instrument away from my alarm, unplugging the wires and giving me a concerned look. “A solid hour and nothing. Are you sure it disarmed?”

  I looked at him exasperated. “I was standing right there.” Realization dawned on me. “That son of a bitch.”

  “Who?” Cedric asked, intrigued.

  “So ...” I looked down at my bare feet. “I may have fucked a bad guy.”

  Cedric smiled. “And this is news?”

  “A bad guy could probably trip my system, right? Like if he wanted to get in?”

  “No,” Cedric said with certainty. “Hell no, you can’t just trip this alarm or disarm it easily, Taylor. I told you that.”

  “What if he’s a really, really bad guy?” I asked pensively.

  Cedric threw his tool into his kit and stood with his arms crossed in front of him. A million times, I’d wished I were attracted to him, and a million times more my body refused to react. I took in Cedric’s shaved head, subtle but attractive features, accusing eyes, and wished just one more time.

  “What are you doing?” he snapped, knowing my definition of a bad guy was exactly that.

  “Isn’t the question who?” I piped, turning my head with a smile full of teeth.

  “Don’t. You aren’t cute, especially in a Vols t-shirt,” he said, pushing past me to make himself at home in the kitchen.

  Cedric hated anything that had to do with Tennessee, while I kept subtle reminders of where we came from close to fuel and motivate me. Not that I needed them with my recent dreams.

  “So I met a guy at The Rabbit Hole,” I started as his glass paused at the ice dispenser. “And he claims to be a bad guy. And, well, we kind of had a rendezvous here and I think he’s the reason—”

  “Are you listening to yourself?” he asked as he sipped his water and gave me a wary look. “Seriously, Taylor.”

  Digging my nails into my palms, I cursed my bad decisions. “I’m not this stupid.”

  Eyebrows raised, Cedric looked out my window at my view of the marsh. “You’re lonely.”

  Standing motionless, I waited on his backlash, but to my surprise, he gave none.

  “I’ll replace it with something new, change the locks. I’ll take care of this.” He turned, giving me a stern look. “Do I need to go further?”

  I knew exactly what he was asking. Though to my friend and business partner, Nina, Cedric was legitimate security, and he was, he would go a lot further to protect me if I needed it. I shook my head in a no. I was sure Daniello wasn’t a threat to my life, but then again, I knew absolutely nothing about him, except he was beautiful, infuriating, and apparently liked to have uninterrupted access to the women he ‘shared’ time with.

  Cedric emptied his glass and put it in the sink, surveying me from head to toe. I didn’t fidget under his scrutiny. “You can take care of yourself, Taylor. I know this, but if you ever—”

  “I know,” I said back with a small smile. I wished one more time for the sake of wishing that I could have affection beyond friendship for Cedric. He truly was a decent looking man. Covered heavily in tats and a well-muscled body, I was sure he had his fair share of companions. Still, I had to ask.

  “Are you ...lonely?” Eyes crinkling, he took a step toward me.

  “You finally going to quench that curiosity?”

  I pushed at his chest in jest. He smirked and took a step back. “No, Taylor, I’m all good in that department. But do yourself a favor and try and remember you just got your last wish granted by taking a hold in that company. Don’t fuck it up falling into old habits.”

  I nodded, knowing damn well who he was referring to: my original bad guy, the one who used to be his best friend. A name we didn’t speak between us, and a name I would love to forget.

  “You smell like bleach. Blech,” Laz said as he helped me out of my bedroom window. We’d been meeting up at night after my mother had finally let me go to my bedroom to ‘do homework or whatever and go to bed.’ I’d flip my light on and off a few times as Laz watched from the field for my signal. We’d decided at school today to meet up so he could teach me how to ride a bike. It was late and I was exhausted, but got my second wind thinking of taking the driver’s seat for the first time.

  “My mama,” I huffed as if he would understand. I attempted to explain better, “She makes us clean every day.”

  “Us?” Laz said, looking past me with concern.

  “Amber,” I whispered, “my little sister. She’s not old enough ...Forget it.”

  We stood in close proximity as Laz’s half-shadowed face studied me. I pushed the frizzy red mess out of my face and lifted my chin. I shouldn’t care what he thought and I knew it, but I couldn’t help the embarrassment I felt at what he had already seen.

  “Let’s go,” he offered, grabbing my hand. I felt my chest tug at his small gesture and looked up at him in confusion.

  “Don’t get the wrong idea, Red, I’m not into you,” he snapped, pulling his hand away. “It’s dark, follow me.”

  We had no street lamps and were screwed for light as far as the time of day, but I didn’t care and it seemed neither did he. He brought me to the halfway point between our houses, onto the smoothest possible dirt road. I knew the road by heart as it led to a small fishing pond that my dad used to take me to when I was much younger. Saddled on the bike, I looked to my right and could barely see Laz with the small amount of light shed from the crescent moon.

  “Balance yourself and just peddle,” he instructed gruffly. “Don’t think too hard or you’ll fall. Push off hard, steer straight, and don’t stop peddling.”

  “Got it,” I said enthusiastically.

  “I’ll hold onto you for a bit but then I’ll let go,” he warned.

  “Don’t. I don’t want your help,” I snapped.

  “Look, Red,” he said, indignant.

  “Stop calling me that!” I argued. “I’ve got it.”

  I pushed off without warning and pedaled hard. I held on tightly to the handlebars and felt a sharp high as the breeze sifted through my hair. Over confident, I failed to balance and I fell on my side the first ten seconds then cradled my arm that was full of embedded rocks.

  “Shit,” I heard behind me. “I told you I would hold on.” I turned to admit defeat but Laz simply wiped the dust off of me and picked up the bike. “Get back on.”

  “No,” I said quickly. My arm was burning and I was sure I was bleeding.

  “Hmph,” he said defiantly. “Didn’t picture you as a chicken shit. It’s a scratch, Red. You want to ride a bike, here’s your chance.” I didn’t need to look at him to see he was disappointed. I was crushed. Taking a deep breath, I made my decision and reseated on the bike.

  I didn’t wait for Laz to react and took off again on my own, but before I could get my first push out, Laz stopped me by gripping the bars and the back of my seat.

  “Hardheaded or stupid, you can’t be both,” he snapped. “Hardheaded will get you your way sometimes but stupid will get you hurt. Which one are
you?”

  Without hesitation, I answered. “Hardheaded.” Smiling into the darkness, I pushed hard on the peddle, ripping myself from his grip. That time I made it almost thirty seconds before falling, but when I got back up, I made it to the end of the road. I didn’t need to see Laz’s face or even hear his congratulations to know somewhere at the opposite of the dark road he was smiling.

  Jumping in my seat at the horn incessantly sounding behind me, I turned onto the highway as the car blew past me, still blaring their horn with a friendly one-finger salute. I shook thoughts away of anything Lazarus, but not before I noted that I was no longer just dreaming about him. He was in my thoughts again, invading my days. I turned the radio up and stopped at the next light, turning the rearview toward me, expecting to see the bleach covered eleven year old with bright, frizzy red hair. The woman in front of me was perfectly put together, her now dark auburn hair sleekly knotted at the top of her head, perfectly applied lipstick, and aviator shades covered any telltale sign of her age.

  I’m not there and he’s not here.

  Irony struck then as a biker crossed the walk in front of me. Deciding I needed a drink as the sun faded, I turned into my condo prepared to dine seaside and quench my thirst. Walking into my home, I set my alarm and out of new habit watched as it remained armed. Two steps into my living room, I froze as the hair on the back of my neck stood at attention. It was too late for me to get out of the condo. I lunged for my curio cabinet, taking out my .38mm. It wasn’t my gun of choice, but it would do in a pinch. I crept toward my bedroom, my cell phone in hand, as I surveyed the house. If someone was waiting for me, they were aware I was here. Creeping closer toward my bedroom, I stopped at the noise of water falling.

  The shower.

  It was probably a distraction. Turning quickly into my bedroom, prepared to shoot and ask questions later, I saw it was clear and nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the voice.

  “If you are going to use the .38 on me, you might want to make sure your aim isn’t off. Bullet wounds just anger me. Then again, you like me angry.”

  I noted the suitcase next to my nightstand and sighed in relief as I let the gun trail to my hip then turned to see the source of the noise, gloriously naked through the shower glass. Putting the gun on the counter, I crossed my arms.