Unexpected Angel

by Sloan Johnson

  (Tasha)

  Tripping over my clothes hamper as I made my way to the bedside lamp should have been my first clue something was amiss. Instead, I chalk it up to the fact that Holly was in my room yesterday and she is notorious for moving things as it suits her. The soft yellow glow from the lamp fills the room and I scream as my body crumbles into a pile on the floor.

  “Tasha,” Dylan’s panicked scream echoes through the house. “What’s going on?”

  And to think, I had considered telling him goodbye at his car and sending him home. Now, I want nothing more than for him to scoop me into his arms and tell me it will be okay. “What the fuck is that?”

  Scribbled across my mirror in the same red lipstick I wore to the club are the words ‘Stupid fucking whore’. Scrawled across the single wall without windows or doors are, ‘You’ll pay for this, stupid bitch’, written with some sort of marker.

  “I don’t know,” I sob, not wanting to look up and see the writing again. Seeing the alarmed expression on Dylan’s face, I feel like I over-reacted. He probably expected to walk in to see a dead body on the floor or a knife-wielding psychopath in the closet.

  Even though it is only words on my mirror and my wall, I feel violated. Someone came into my home while I was gone and wanted to leave me a very clear message. I am certain that no matter how much I clean the walls or how many coats of paint I apply, I will never again walk into this room without seeing those hateful words.

  Dylan eases himself onto the floor beside me, his back leaning against the mattress. “Precious, you need to calm down,” he whispers in my ear as his strong hands move up and down my back. “Can you think of anyone who would have done this?” Even as he waits for my answer, he is pulling a cell phone out of his pocket. I turn my head to him when I realize he hadn’t called 911 or even the non-emergency police number.

  “Tommy, it’s Dylan... Yeah look, a good friend of mine has a problem and we need your help.” Seeing the confusion in my eyes, Dylan places his hand over the phone. “It’s okay, Precious. Tommy’s a cop buddy of mine. He’ll get over here as quick as he can.” His eyes stay focused on mine until I nod, letting him know I understand. “Yeah, are you working tonight? Okay, good…” He gives this mysterious Tommy my address and hangs up.

  “Everything’s going to be okay. We’re going to go out to my car until Tommy gets here. I don’t want you inside until we know there’s no one hanging around.” There is no mistaking the fact that this isn’t a request and there is no point in arguing with him. Part of me wants to go through the house to see if anything is missing but the bigger part of me is terrified to know if there are more messages waiting for me. Or worse.

  As Dylan ushers me to his car, he uses his free hand to make another call. “Z, it’s Dylan. I need you to come over to Tasha’s house…I don’t care if you have one woman or a harem of naked virgins in your bed, I need to you tell her goodnight and get your ass over here. I’ll text you the address.” He hangs up the phone without waiting for a response.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” I say meekly. I hate the thought that not only am I ruining our impromptu plans for the night, but now Zeke is also breaking his own plans because of me.

  Dylan presses me against the hood of his car. “How many times do I have to tell you that I take care of what’s mine? I’m going to go inside with Tommy when he gets here so I need Zeke to keep an eye on you.”

  “I just…”

  He cuts me off before I could finish. “Don’t even say it. I hope it won’t take you long to realize that when you’re involved with me, you have a whole network of people standing ready to help. I would have done the same for him and he knows it.”

  As much as I want to protest, to remind him that I’m not his and that we aren’t “involved” as he put it, I know it’s not the time. Twice in twenty-four hours, Dylan has been there to save me from my own life. First, he got me out of the club when I didn’t want to be there, and now by calling his friends to help me.

  “Thank you,” I mumble. He lifts me so I am sitting on the hood of his car and wraps his arms around me while we wait. “So, how do you know this Tommy guy?”

  Dylan laughs, kissing the crown of my head. “You don’t want to know, Precious. Let’s just say we have some of the same interests.”

  Before I can dig deeper for an answer I would like, I notice a police cruiser coming down the street. As it slows in front of my house, I issue a silent prayer that he hadn’t turned on the lights and siren or he had turned them off before turning into my sleepy residential neighborhood.

  “Get in the car and lock the doors.” I slump into the passenger’s seat and push the lock button as soon as he shuts the door. I curl up on the seat resting my head on my knees as Dylan walks over to talk to his friend. When Zeke knocks on the driver’s side window, I jump and let out another girly scream. Once I stop shaking, I reach over to unlock his door.

  “Hey kid,” Zeke greets me as he slides into the driver’s seat. “Want to explain why I’m sitting in Dylan’s car with you instead of in bed with a sexy red head?”

  I really wish Dylan hadn’t called him. I’m not in the mood for a babysitter, especially not a cocky womanizer like Zeke. I don’t know him that well, but it seems to me that sex is the one thing he likes to talk about. That does nothing to settle my frayed nerves.

  “I’m sorry, Zeke. I told Dylan he didn’t need to have you come over here, but he insisted.” I can only imagine how pathetic I must look to Zeke right about now. “Someone wrote some things on the wall of my bedroom and he didn’t want me alone while he and his cop friend check it out.”

  “Don’t be sorry; I just wanted to know what the fuck was going on.” Zeke’s voice no longer carries an edge of annoyance to it. Instead, the same tenderness Dylan shows when he tries to calm me down fills it. “Is there anything missing?”

  I watch Dylan and the cop walk into my house and reach for the door handle. “Don’t do that,” Zeke says authoritatively. “If Dylan wanted you to stay out here, you need to stay.”

  “What’s up with the two of you thinking it is okay to command women to do things?” I seethe. “He and I are going to have to have a talk about that if he really does want to go out with me again because I just got rid of one controlling jerk; I’m not looking for a replacement.”

  Zeke reaches out his hand to me. “Sweetie, there’s a big difference between controlling assholes and people like Dylan and me. When we tell you something, it’s for your own good. When people like your ex tell you to do something, it’s because it’s what he wants you to do and he gets off on the thrill of knowing he’s in complete control.”

  “And you two don’t?” I ask. I have read enough books to have an idea of what guys like Zeke and Dylan enjoy. I don’t see his point, other than the fact that I am pretty sure both of them like things like what I saw at the club and Nick had never been aggressive unless he was angry.

  “You have a point, but there’s still a difference.” Zeke watches the movement in the house before saying anything else. “When your ex told you to do something, how did you feel?”

  I don’t want to answer him. If I do, I know it will prove his point for him. On the other hand, if he is as much like Dylan as I think he is, he won’t take too kindly to my ignoring him. I look away from him before responding. “Bitter and hurt,” I whisper.

  “Okay and what about when Dylan tells you to do something? I know him well enough to know he doesn’t often request things and your comment tells me he’s already told you to do something you might not have wanted to do.”

  I shrug, again not wanting to answer. “I guess it was different. But I still don’t see why you can’t be nicer. Have you ever thought that if you asked me to stay in the car, I might have done it because it’s the sensible thing to do until they come back out?”

  Will there ever be a time in my life when I don’t have everyone thinking I am some poor, defenseless woman who needs protection from her own n
aiveté?

  Zeke raises an eyebrow. The way that simple movement contorts his entire face makes me laugh. “Would you have stayed in the car? Really? I’m no one to you. I highly doubt you would have done as I asked. On the other hand, you’re still here, so obviously my approach worked.”

  “I’m still here because I’m annoyed and want you to give me an answer,” I state firmly. “But yeah, I suppose you’re right. And you’re not no one to me. You’re Dylan’s friend, so I’m assuming there’s some good in you somewhere. And you did give him those tickets for today, so thanks for that.”

  “Hey, when Dylan told me you were still around the morning after, I knew there must be something special about you. And don’t be fooled, he paid a hefty price to get those tickets,” he laughs. If nothing else, having Zeke next to me is helping me forget about what my bedroom looks like, even if just for a few minutes.

  (Dylan)

  “Okay, so I’ll need her to do a quick walk-through with me and then I’ll come to your place after a bit to get a full statement,” Tommy informs me as we walk out the front door. Whoever had been in Tasha’s house either has a key or has some badass breaking and entering skills. My bet is on the former, seeing as nothing appeared to be out of place.

  “What the fuck?” I bellow as I see Zeke leaning across the front seat to give Tasha a kiss on the cheek. “You might want to go now before I kill Z.” I storm across the lawn, slowing before I get to the car. I want to break the window and yank him out of the car to pummel him, but sense kicks in before I follow through with that plan. Not only will that leave me with the bill to replace the window, but it would also freak the hell out of Tasha.

  “Dylan,” Tommy yells after me. “I’d rather not have to arrest you tonight, be smart.”

  Smart. Yeah, that’s a good idea. And why am I getting so possessive over her? Maybe Pensacola will be good for both of us. I need some space to think about what I am doing and it won’t happen if we are both in the same city.

  I raise a hand to Tommy, waving him off. “Don’t worry, I’m cool.”

  Rather than go to the driver’s side, where I’d be tempted to lay into Zeke, I rap softly on the passenger’s side window. When Tasha turns toward me, her eyes lighten when she sees me. She quickly unlocks the car and eases herself out. “Is everything okay?”

  I wipe away the remnants of tears from her eyes. “Yeah, it looks like it was just your bedroom. Tommy wants to walk through with you and then we’ll head back to my place. You can grab what you need for tomorrow or we can go shopping in the morning, but you’re not staying here.”

  If I have my way, she won’t spend another night alone in this house ever. It’s not secure, the lighting is shitty, and it’s not my condo. I decide that when we finally discuss her safety and living arrangements, it might be premature to add in that last reason. I just have to hope my instincts are right and she is worth the trouble.

  “I’ll get my stuff.” She bows her head, not even trying to fight with me. She isn’t submitting to my demands, she’s in shock. The only sparkle in her eyes is the glistening tears that refuse to fall. I want to find a way to erase that pain for her, give her back the stolen pieces of her life. But how?

  Tommy escorts her into the house, leaving me time to talk to Zeke. “What the fuck was that?” I snarl, my fists clenched tightly at my sides.

  Zeke holds up his hands in surrender. No woman in either of our lives has been worth coming to blows over and yet I feel consumed by rage for the second time today because of Tasha. Over a girl I haven’t even kissed yet. What the fuck is going on with me?

  “Dylan, you need to calm down,” Zeke says in a somewhat patronizing tone. “She doesn’t understand you. She’s tweaking because someone broke into her home. It’s a lot of shit to take in. We talked and I gave her a kiss on the cheek. End of story.”

  It’s not the end of the damn story. Not by a long shot. Why had he kissed her at all? “What do you mean she doesn’t understand me? What did she say to you?”

  I follow Zeke down the dark street to where he parked his car. The nearest streetlight to Tasha’s house is at least five houses away. There are too many shadows for someone to hide in, waiting for the right moment to strike and harm an unsuspecting single woman. No way in hell will Tasha be coming back here. I don’t care if I have to buy the damn house and evict her. It’s not safe.

  “We talked a bit about how you and I don’t ask people to do things. She thinks we need to be nicer if we want others to do as we ask.”

  “And what did you tell her?” This could go one of two ways. If Zeke was thinking clearly, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He may be far enough from the situation to explain things clearly. More likely, Zeke had diarrhea of the mouth and said all the wrong things.

  Zeke rests a hand firmly on my shoulder. “Relax. I turned it around on her. Asked her how it felt when her prick of an ex told her to do shit and then how it felt when you told her to do something she didn’t want to do.”

  I want to hear what she said in response to that, but there isn’t time. Tommy and Tasha are out of the house, standing on the front step while Tasha locks up. Before she can pick up her small suitcase and her laptop bag, Tommy grabs both and carries them to my car. Good man.

  “Look, I need to get her back to my place. Give me a call tomorrow because I’m going to need your help.” There is no way I can get out of going to Pensacola so I need to know Zeke and Tommy will be around to take care of Tasha until I get back.

  “Whatever you need, bud.” Zeke gives me a quick man-hug and folds himself into his car. Watching him drive away, I know he is sincere. I may have momentarily lost my head when I saw him with Tasha, but he would never do anything to betray me that way.

  (Tasha)

  Dylan winds his way around the lake from my house to his condo on nearly deserted streets. I have no clue what time it is or how long we were at my house, but I know it has to be late. I stare out the passenger’s side window, unable to make eye contact with him.

  “Whatever it is you’re thinking, you need to stop.” Dylan’s smooth voice pierces the silence inside the car. Rather than respond to him, I turn my entire body to the side, pulling my feet under me, and curling up in a ball on his seat. Why am I in this car with him? Why didn’t he lock me safely away in my house and then leave? We haven’t known one another much more than a day, so I can’t figure out why he has done any of the things he has for me.

  My mind flashes with images of the messages left in my bedroom. I force myself to think about the writing, to think about who might have a reason to do something like that. Then, I remember how I reacted. I feel foolish for screaming, but knowing someone was in my home while I wasn’t makes my skin crawl, even now. I shudder at the thought, wondering if whoever did this has been there before.

  From there, my mind flips to my phone. The text messages. Is there a connection between the two? I blew both of them off as sent by mistake to a wrong number, but now I’m not so sure. ‘If only I had known sooner…’ If who knew what? ‘It’s a great evening, isn’t it?’ Two messages, both seemingly innocent, but when combined with the angry words in my home and the feeling I couldn’t shake all day that I was being watched. I refuse to tell Mr. Possessive but remind myself to let Tommy know when he comes by for my statement.

  “Hey,” Dylan says, softly placing a hand on my legs. His touch centers me, brings me back to the present. “It’s going to be okay, but you have to know that you’re not going back there.”

  I sigh heavily. “While that’s a nice thought, I have to go back. That’s where I live.”

  Seriously, what does he expect me to do?

  “You can stay at my place. It’s a security locked building and there’s a guard who works overnights.”

  I can’t help but laugh at his suggestion. It is ridiculous to think I should move in with him. We don’t even know one another. “Thank you, but I’m not going to impose on you. I’m sure you have better things to do th
an babysit me. Your cop friend suggested I change the locks, so I’m going to call the property management company on Monday to come and do that.”

  Dylan stops at the entrance to the underground parking garage long enough to enter his code. He turns to the front and doesn’t say another word to me until he parks the car and we are in the elevator.

  “Look, I’m going out of town this week. I’d feel better knowing you’re safe. Obviously, someone has a problem with you right now and that means you could be in danger.” His hands press into my upper arms, turning me to face him. The fact that his fingers stay rigid and the only pressure is from his palms does not go unnoticed. “Please, stay at my place while I’m gone. It would make me feel better.”

  Is this man for real? I feel as though I am being punked because there is no way any man would open his home to a complete stranger, especially when he isn’t going to be there to make sure nothing goes missing.

  “Why does it matter?” I whisper as we walk into the elevator.

  Dylan groans, allowing his head to fall back and hit the side wall of the elevator car. “Do we really need to go over all of this again?” In two short steps, he presses his body against mine. “I will always take care of what is mine. Always.”

  I stand a bit taller and stare directly into his deep brown eyes so there is no way he can mistake what I am about to say. “And I told you…I’m. Not. Yours.”

  His possessive streak might work on the women he normally brings home, but I’m not one of his conquests. Hearing him laying claim to me once again, especially as I am trying to process everything that has happened in the past few hours ticks me off. How insensitive can he be?