Just when I’m about to toss my phone to the side I notice something at the bottom of the Google results page.
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What the heck?
I’ve never seen anything like this before, or at least noticed anything like it.
I click on the link and there it is…just like he said.
Apparently someone had it removed from the search results…or almost had it removed.
Wow, he was right.
And he was looking out for me…again.
Wait a second? Did I agree to a date with him?
Was that a date? Is he just meeting with me tonight to give me some safety advice or something? Or to tell me not to tell my dad?
He wouldn’t do that. He never keeps secrets from my dad. They tell each other everything.
So wait. He invited me out for a dinner date?
But I didn’t exactly accept.
He didn’t really invite me he just kind of told me.
“Uhhhh,” I moan aloud realizing I allowed his domineering behavior. I really need to work on that…on not letting him do that.
I’m going to confront him about that tonight.
But first maybe I need to confront myself about these feelings I’ve been harboring for him which suddenly seem like they might not just be a one-way street.
CHAPTER 7
Abigail
“Is this a date?” I ask after we get seated and order our meals.
“Yes,” he says so matter of fact.
His directness is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, but with each passing minute with him it’s making me realize it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
“Are we sitting in the back because you don’t want my dad to find out?”
“No. We’re sitting in the back because I want you all to myself. And I know the owner and he gave me the best booth.”
Again with the directness. The mention of the owner would sound like a brag if it were coming from anyone else. But because he’s so direct it’s just a simple statement of a fact, nothing more and nothing less.
And it’s a fact that his ways are making me hotter by the second.
I’ve always had such a big crush on him but I kind of just wrote it off.
Dad’s best friend? Check.
Way older? Check.
A successful cop? Check.
What would he want with me and why would he risk my dad’s friendship and maybe his career for me? I guess now that I’m eighteen his career wouldn’t be in jeopardy, but based on his actions earlier today he values keeping me safe more than his job.
“You take the serve and protect motto very seriously, don’t you.”
“Of course.”
“Does it matter to you whether justice fits between the black and white lines of the law?”
“It does in that I have to play by the rules when I have my uniform on. But when my uniform is off I’m nothing more than a citizen, just like you. And then I can evaluate what’s right and wrong and make decisions based on my own moral code.”
“Is that challenging? Switching back and forth?”
“No, because most people are good. There are just some that aren’t. And even fewer still who aren’t and who manage to avoid detection or justice. That’s what happened earlier today.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“Does that scare you? Do I scare you?”
I take a sip of my water and really ponder his question.
“I know you and I know who you are as a person…as a man. Because of this it doesn’t scare me. And if I’m being honest strangely enough it excites me.”
“I excite you,” he says. It’s not a question.
“Yes. Don’t I excite you? Isn’t that why you invited me out tonight?”
“Yes. But you don’t just excite me. I’ve become completely obsessed with you. I’ve studied obsession before as part of the job. People become addicted to drugs, violence, all kinds of bad things. I was always repulsed by the lack of control especially when it came to evil things. But that was before I experienced it.”
“I’m an evil thing?”
“You’re an angel from heaven and my mission is to watch over you.”
“But I’m an angel. Isn’t that my job?” I’m not entirely sure what I’m saying or why this conversation is going in this direction. It’s just that he’s leading it and I’ve quickly learned that when he leads you follow. It’s instinctive and somewhat frustrating at the same time. Frustrating in that I know exactly what he’s talking about. I’m also becoming obsessed with the excitement he creates and the knowledge that he cares so much about me.
I can’t help but wonder what my dad would have done in the same instance today.
Told them to leave me alone?
Threaten to call the police?
He’s the police so by definition he’s the one my dad would call if there was trouble. He’s the hero in the dark blue. He doesn’t wear a cape or a mask but he delivers justice just as swiftly.
That just doesn’t exist anymore.
Here I am an eighteen-year-old girl and I have a big, strong man who’s offering to protect me from anything life throws at me. But the difference is he’s not offering. He’s not even insisting.
Why? Because he doesn’t seem to care one bit what I think.
He’s going to do it regardless.
I’m not sure if I should question it or just go with it.
In some ways I can’t help but think of the scary movies when a character is too stupid to live. Is that me right now?
But I know this man. And I know if I tried to tell him no he wouldn’t even listen. I’m not even sure he’d register anything from me that involved me asking, or suggesting he give me space.
“That’s not your job. You’re a woman. I’m a man. That’s my job.”
“What if I told you I needed space. What if I said this was way too much too fast.”
“Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m just asking.”
“You can say it or you can ask it but it won’t make a bit of difference. I’m going to keep doing what I’m doing.”
“That’s what I figured.”
The waiter arrives with our drinks. He ordered for me, of course. And as expected he didn’t pick anything alcoholic.
It’s kind of strange just sitting back and not having to do anything. I have to admit I like it. I make so many decisions during the day anyways it’s nice to just turn my brain off and relax like this in the evening.
But I’m anything but relaxed, thanks to him.
“You’re always very beautiful, but with your hair up like this I can see your swan like neck and it’s even more captivating.”
Captivating? Who uses words like that?
“Thank you. You look very…nice too.”
My compliment floats off his back like water. He doesn’t acknowledge it or deny it.
I try to imagine myself out with a boy my age right now. First of all I know the odds are pretty high that he’d pick me up and then ask me what I felt like eating or where I felt like going. Then we, I mean I, finally picked something out he’d ask me what I was going to order and probably even ask me about what he wanted to order.
Twenty questions for sure. But here the guy who’s a trained interrogator, I’m sure, isn’t asking questions at all. He just makes statements, with a few exceptions.
I never really spent much time speaking with him at my parent’s house and I never would have known he was the least bit interested in me, although I did notice him looking at me pretty hard on my graduation day, but it seemed like everyone was kind of checking me out that day. It was my day after all.
But come to think about it he would often look at me, but a couple times when someone said nice things to
me or got really close to me he was always close by.
This really did start way back then. Even then he was dropping obvious hints. At least they must have been obvious to everyone but me.
I guess I’m not trained to solve mysteries like he is.
But this isn’t a mystery is it? His directness isn’t a game or a change in who he is. I didn’t ever really know who he was. I just knew what he looked like, which was super hot and muscular, and how he exuded confidence and power which of course is also super hot.
“I’m not one to date girls. Never was. If I ask you out that means you’re my girlfriend. You accepted so that means you were interested, or at least very curious. But I can see it’s much more interest than curiosity. So unless you get cold feet for some reason tonight you’re my girlfriend now.”
“What?”
“Like I said, if you get cold feet then you can have more time. Just not much.”
“Oh my god. You are really unbelievable aren’t you.”
“I’m the opposite. I’m completely believable. Everything I ever tell you I’ll do you can take it to the bank. When I tell you you’re my girlfriend that means I’m your boyfriend. You’ll never have to worry about ridiculous things like me so much as looking at another woman let alone desiring one or cheating. Just saying it out loud right now sounds ridiculous, but I need to say it this one time just so you know.”
“What if I decide I want to break up?”
“You won’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’m going to do everything…whatever it takes…to show you that there is no other man on the face of this plant for you than me.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, and it will come naturally. You’ll see. There’s nothing I want more than to make you my queen. If you haven’t figured out you’re already the center of my world, and now you’re my girlfriend and you’re about to see everything that comes with that title.”
“Such as?”
“Your steak, ma’am. And yours, sir.”
“Thank you,” I say as Julian nods to the waiter.
He reaches his long thick forearm across the table and pulls my plate back to his side.
Before I can register what’s going on or complain he’s cutting my steak into bite sized chunks.
“You going to feed me that like a mother bird?”
“No. That’s too much. But after you finish the first half I’ll cut the rest. I’d cut it all but I don’t want the other half to get cold,” he says as he slides the steak back in front of me.
That’s too much? As if cutting my food isn’t? Oh my god…again! I feel like I just keep saying that to myself, but what I’m not saying to myself is to get up and run far far away.
Is it because…this is too good to be true and my mind subconsciously knows it?
Or am I too young and inexperienced to know any better?
But I just know this isn’t normal. No way.
But I do know normal sounds entirely way too boring. And I sure don’t want that.
I sink my fork into the first bite of steak and put it in my mouth. My eyes rise up from my plate and lock onto his.
He’s watching me eat my food like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.
“We’re going to Puerto Vallarta after the summer session. Make sure to keep your calendar cleared out those days or it will be embarrassing if you don’t show up for things you scheduled because you’re on vacation.”
I stop chewing and my mouth opens…with food in it.
Oh my god. I think again and I know it’s not going to be the last time.
CHAPTER 8
Julian
“Where’d that report go that I saw on your desk this morning?” the captain asks.
“I filed it in the circular file where it belongs.”
“Just a courtesy, Sergeant. And don’t underestimate what he might try.”
“I’m ready, sir,” I say.
The captain purses his lips and shakes his head as he turns to walk down the hall before stopping and putting his hand on the door jamb and looking back in.
“And Sergeant.”
“Sir.”
“I’m not saying it was wrong, but be careful when you decide to whip somebody’s ass on your off hours.”
“Sir,” I say.
“Those jerks had it coming anyways,” he says and then does leave down the hall.
And now those boys will be out of commission for quite some time. Luckily what I did didn’t blow up or blow back on the police force. The school newspaper broke the story and some of the students at the scene reported the way it all went down in a positive light for me.
But what’s not so positive is the he the captain was talking about.
That he is The Sunset Stalker. He terrorized half the country ten years ago waiting for the sun to set to begin his night’s of mayhem and violence.
Until I put him away.
I didn’t even have jurisdiction but I requested time off and went to the part of the country where he was operating. I tried to get in his head and think where he might strike next. Sure enough he chose a college campus and I was there and ready when I heard the screams.
This guy thought he was going to be the next Ted Bundy, and I thought he was going fry or go away for life at a minimum.
I was young and idealistic back then and I learned a hard lesson after it was ruled some of the evidence was tampered with and they couldn’t link him to a majority of the crimes. He got some hotshot lawyer looking to make a name for himself and the douche pleaded it down…way down.
And now ten years later he was out for good behavior. Good behavior? What the fuck?
Tell that to families of those girls he was paroled for good behavior and see what they say about that.
But it’s not those families he’s expected to torment anymore, not that what he did won’t haunt them forever.
He stood up in court and promised to come after me.
And I sure hope he does so I can finish what I started, but this time on my terms.
And that’s another reason why I’m so obsessed with Abigail’s whereabouts right now and how she looks.
That prick stalked his women based on his obsession with blonde hair. In court he described how he was infatuated by long blonde hair, which describes Abigail to a T.
That’s one of the reasons I want her to wear her hair up. I’m not afraid of this bastard but I don’t need to make Abigail a target in my own personal vendetta when he comes looking for me, and I know he will.
But it’s not just that. It’s not just that I don’t want him looking at her, I don’t want any man looking at her.
She’s mine now. My girlfriend. And what she has is mine and what I have is hers.
And have her I will. Soon.
I just need to prepare a scenario that equals her perfection.
That’s impossible by definition, but I’m going to give it a shot.
CHAPTER 9
Abigail
I sit in my Women’s Studies class again blown away by the subjects my teacher is presenting.
The feminization of men. How masculinity is derided and is it true that any kind of male authority is immediately shrieked at as being patriarchal. We even explore the rape culture and whether the way it’s covered in the media makes a man being born today feel wrong…born wrong to an extent.
It’s a fascination discussion on both sides but we come back to the conclusion that women still aren’t making what men are making in the workforce so apparently gender roles haven’t changed as much as we might think.
But as interesting as class is I can’t take my mind off what I saw on the school newspaper’s online site this morning.
Innocent Woman Robbed and Beaten While Bystanders Snap Pics
That was the headline. And they even ran one of the pictures someone took.
How could that person live
with themself this morning let alone have the balls to send the picture they took into the paper or post in on social media where the paper then picked it up? How could you not be embarrassed as the person who took that. You’re saying to the world it was more important to watch this all happen and take the time to get your phone out than it was to actually help that poor girl? Is that where we are as a society?
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