boss’s whims, but who went home alone at night, terrified that someone might jump her when she hurried from her car and into her apartment.
Now, inexplicably, nine years after the event with Rand, here she was again, on the cusp of being undone by some unknown man.
The movement in the woods drew closer. She couldn’t just hear it now―she could feel it. A part of her knew that was intentional. He wanted her to know that he was close. He wanted her to run now. He was ready for his game to begin and she had no choice but to begin it for him.
There was a trail in front of her and behind her. A wild of woods was to her right and to her left. Obviously, she couldn’t go left―he was there, waiting for her to emerge. Choosing the path would be easier, but she would be exposed, which could end in a quick death if he had a gun. But if she could cut through the snare of woods off to her right, she might be able to get ahead of him and conceal herself as she ran into the deep they provided.
And so that’s what Cheryl Dunning did. She ran. And the moment she ran, she heard a burst of activity behind her. Trees bent. Branches snapped. Then his voice: “That’s a girl! You run now! You run, whore!” He clapped his hands, the sound of which licked at her back as she pushed through the woods, the twigs flicking across her face and her outstretched hands like merciless whips.
“Make it fun for me,” he said. “Come on now, Cheryl. Don’t disappoint!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Patty Jennings woke that morning alone.
She was flat on her back, the covers were pulled close to her face, and she was sore, unusually so.
She looked to her right and wondered what time he left. Or if, in fact, he had left. He might be in the living room or in the kitchen, but she doubted it. During the few times in her life that she’d taken home a man, they usually just left, which Patty didn’t mind. She preferred it when they left. No awkward good-byes that way. No lies that they’d see each other again. No being set up for disappointment.
She laid there for a minute and tried to remember the night before. She and Cheryl went to The Grind. It was her thirtieth birthday, she remembered coaxing Cheryl to do shots with her, and then she met―what was his name? Jake? Jack? She couldn’t remember. Whatever his name was, she met him when she came out of the bathroom and while he was younger than she, she couldn’t help noticing that he was awfully good looking and built.
Though her head was still foggy from not enough sleep and too much alcohol, what she also remembered is that he was a powerhouse last night. Young or not, he was so good in bed, so masculine for his age and in control, that she let him have his way with her, which he did. And did again. Was there a third time? She thought back, remembered there was and couldn’t help a smile.
“Finally,” she said aloud, “I’ve lived up to my reputation. Good for me.”
She swung the covers off her, used the bathroom, thought of giving Cheryl a call to apologize for leaving her last night, but decided she’d do it after she made coffee and fully woke up.
What was it? Saturday? She looked at the time on the clock next to her bed and saw that it was just past nine. Knowing Cheryl, she’d still be in bed. Always the late sleeper, but not today. Today, Patty wanted to take her to lunch because she felt guilty for ending the night without her. She decided to call her in an hour and see if she was interested.
If she’s not, I’ll bring lunch to her.
She went into the kitchen, which was so bright with sunlight, it hurt. She made her way to the coffee machine and found a note waiting for her there. She didn’t have her glasses, but the idea that he’d left her a note was kind of sweet. She went into the living room, reached for her glasses on a side table, put them on and read.
“Last night was fun,” it said. “Very hot. I’ve left something for you. Go to this Web address: http://on.fb.me/kCZNl3 Hope to see you out again soon so you can let me know what you think