Property Of (9 page)

“Hey, Melissa,” Angela hollered toward a blonde woman with short hair, a killer figure, and black spiked pumps I’d kill to own. Dressed in business attire, she wore a black pencil skirt with a bright red silk blouse that looked great with her fair complexion. She finished the look off with bright red lips, and I immediately cast her in the role of prosecuting attorneys in . . . in . . . “Yes . . . I’ve got it,” I shouted.

“You’ve got what?” Kristina asked.

“The title of our book,” I explained. “I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with a title that fit, and it just hit me. Dark Prince kept calling us his property, right? It made me think of those T-shirts athletes wear that say, “Property Of” such and such school. I say we title the book “Property Of.”

I looked around the table and saw four smiling faces all nodding approval. BFF's had a binding contract and within that contract, it clearly stated that all bullshit would be left at the door. Only the truth was allowed when in each other’s presence, so when I looked around the table and saw four smiling faces I knew they liked the name.

“Booyah,” Kristina exclaimed as she leaned forward for a high five that started a chain reaction.

“Property Of” who? The killer or the hero?” Janeane questioned.

“I’d say both. The Killer deems her his personal property, and the hero makes her his property when he falls in love with her.”

“Nicola, you need to remember that in present day, not like in your historical romances, women aren’t property,” Kristina scorned in reply.

“Yeah, right,” Kasey complained. “All men think you’re their personal property, whether society has changed or not. Especially alpha males like my ex. They’re a breed all their own, and it takes a special woman to put up with their shit.”

“Is that what happened between you and Mark? You couldn’t handle his possessiveness?”

“Part of it. That and he was never around. We grew apart, basically, and had nothing in common but the boys. I need a man who likes to have fun, not grunt orders at me.”

“No wonder you’re interested in Finn,” I chuckled. “You couldn’t find a less serious man if you tried.”

As we chatted about possessive men and ridiculous brothers, Angela’s friend walked up to us, smiling at everyone.

“Were you celebrating something when I walked in?”

“Melissa Webster, meet Nicola, Kristina, Kasey, and Janeane. Girls, meet Melissa, a loan officer at my branch. We’re celebrating a book that Nicola is going to write and we’re helping her with.”

“Is this your first book?” Melissa asked me as she sat down at our table.

“No, but it’s my first contemporary novel, and the girls are helping me with research,” I explained.

“I don’t read,” she told me with a shrug. I held back, with effort, the cringe that was my automatic reaction to hearing someone didn’t read. “But I’ll read this one when you’re done with it since Angela’s involved. What’s it about?”

Angela explained to Melissa in detail about Kasey’s catfish and how the story evolved, leaving nothing out, including, to my utter horror, the part about Dallas Vaughn. Tulsa was a small city, and you couldn’t go anywhere without meeting someone only to find out that you knew some of the same people. The last thing I needed was to find out that she knew Dallas. Which, of course, would prompt her to tell his wife about the pitiful writer who had a crush on her husband. Just thinking about the humiliation made me shudder.

Fortunately, Angela didn’t know his name or that he was married, since I hadn’t told her. But, unfortunately for me, she went on and on about the grin, the wink, and his ogling of my ass as I slumped further into the couch.

“He sounds hot. What’s his name?”

“No idea,” I blurted out giving Kasey a “zip it” look.

“It’s fascinating how you merge bits and pieces of real people together to form a story. I can see why you would use the detective as the hero. And that Dark Prince guy sounds sadistic. He’s clearly a nut case, which makes him perfect for the part of the villain. God, there are so many creeps out there lurking in the shadows just waiting to take advantage of women. You guys were smart to end the association,” Melissa replied with a nod.

Twenty minutes later, after a long discussion about internet dating and how it would influence my book, Finn walked into Gypsy’s unexpected and sauntered over to our group.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Nicola and the Coffee Clutch Gang.”

“Hilarious. What are you doing downtown?” I asked.

“Royse Construction is handling the renovations of one of the rooms at the Mayo Hotel. We’re shorthanded so I’m lending a hand.”

“Shocking, you mean you left the comfort of your office and nonstop ESPN to work?” I joked.

Finn rolled his eyes before leaning down to mess up my hair. As he did this, he noticed Kasey and a slow grin pulled across his lips. “Kasey,” he mumbled in greeting. “Gotta run, Nic, I’ve got people to hire and places to go. You ladies have a good day,” Finn stated before kissing the top of my head and moving to the counter to order a coffee.

All the women at my table watched Finn walk to the counter to place his order. I heard sighs of lust around me and I rolled my eyes in disgust. When I looked back at my friends, they all had a look that said Finn had a starring role in their fantasies.

“Seriously, guys? Ewww.”

“Hey, I can’t help it. Your brother’s hot,” Angela, laughed.

“Uh, could you
not
drool over him when I’m in the room at least?”

“Nope,” Janeane laughed as she looked at her watch and announced, “Shit, I gotta run.”

Everyone stood, except for Melissa, who was pecking away at her phone.

“Are you heading back to the bank?” Angela asked her.

“No, I’m heading to Texas this weekend and I need to get home and pack. I’m gonna hang here and finish my coffee,” she smiled as her eyes drifted back to her phone

Nodding, Angela replied, “See you on Monday then,” as the rest of the girls and I threw out, “Nice to meet you,” and waved goodbye.

“Any chance we can meet here for coffee every day next week?” I asked before we went our separate ways for the weekend. Having to wait to work on the book until Tuesday and Thursday, when I was used to eight hours a day, seven days a week, was going to kill me. I’d already broken my promise to the girls about not working on the book without them last night and was hoping to redeem myself. If I could get more time with them, then maybe I wouldn’t need the secret accounts I’d created last night on POF and SSD. They all stopped dead in their tracks and looked back at me smiling. Ha, I'd totally gotten them hooked on the process of writing a book.

“Works for me,” Angela smiled.

“Ditto here,” Janeane greed.

“Hell, I’m free on Sunday,” Kristina answered.

“Just tell me where and when is my motto,” Kasey laughed.

“We’re gonna have to buy stock in Gypsy’s if we spend all our time here,” I chuckled as we headed for the door.

“This is true, but there is something so Emily Dickinson or T.S. Elliot about writing a book in a coffee house, don’t you think?” Angela laughed.

I hugged the girl’s goodbye then jumped into my light blue convertible Beetle to head home. I pulled left onto Cincinnati to head toward Highway 51, but was stopped at a red light at the corner of Cincinnati and 6th Street when a silver motorcycle came thundering up 6th Street, turning right onto Cincinnati with Dallas Vaughn on the back. I clenched my jaw at the sight of him because he was so friggin’ everything I could barely stand it. The way he rode his bike kind of hunched over in the back, casual, as if he didn’t have the weight of protecting the world on his shoulders was even more disarming. He looked like a White Knight or a current day Highlander on that bike. All he needed was a sword at his side as he rode his trusty steed and he’d be perfect. Then I remembered he was married.

“He grins sexily and winks at women while he’s married. He may look like a hero, but he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” I muttered to myself.

Continuing do Cincinnati, Dallas jumped onto the same highway, so I stayed two car lengths behind him as we navigated the turn. When he took the Utica exit, the same one I had to take to get home, I held my breath. Half a mile from my home, he turned left off of Utica into a housing addition with cute gingerbread houses and I was tempted to follow him just to see where he lived. “Why are the hot ones always a disappointment?” I whispered as my eyes followed him down the street. Distracted by all that was Dallas Vaughn, I forgot what I was doing so when I turned my attention back to the road I had to slam on my brakes to avoid rear-ending a car.

“Jesus, Nicola, you’re an idiot,” I mumbled to myself as my hands shook and adrenaline pumped through my body. “Don’t get yourself killed for a book.”

***

His rage was palpable as he struck the fatal blow, one that fed the monster that lies within him. Her blood sprayed the wall like macabre crimson art as he covered her mouth to muffle her screams. His cock throbbed in exquisite pain as her legs gave out; his movements swift as he lowered her, his emotions on autopilot as his fury guided his actions. Air seeped from a pierced lung and blood mixed with her raspy gasps as she tried to fill her lungs. But, try as she might, breath still eluded her.

Blood masked his blank expression. The terrifying facade of calmness he wore disguised his rapid heartbeat, the lust he always felt for the kill . . . the shock that he always wanted more. As her blood dripped like teardrops from his chin, he watched her eyes grow wide with the knowledge that death was coming quickly.

Death doesn't care if you’re young or old, rich or poor; it takes your gift gladly with little fanfare, he thought. One minute you’re a living, breathing soul with your whole life ahead of you. The next you’re lying on the floor in a pool of your own blood, listening to your heart gallop, adrenaline feeding its fight to survive. And then bit, by agonizing bit, it slows to a slight thump, thump . . . thump, thump . . . thump . . .

Dark Prince rose from the floor and looked at his glove-covered hands. Blood dripped from his fingers as he turned them over and inspected the thick, red liquid coating the surface. He’d never killed with a knife before; he preferred his bare hands as his instruments of punishment. However, standing there now, feeling the very essence of her being coating the skin of his face, he smiled.

Six

“Meow.”

“Quiet, Snape,” I mumbled as I tried to ignore the guilt I felt about the Plenty of Fish and Sub Seeking Dom accounts I created on Thursday night. I thought I could resist the temptation of working on the book until Monday when the girls and I met at Gypsy’s, but I found out something quite unsettling about myself. I had no self-control.

After dealing with Dark Prince on Thursday, I knew I needed more control than I had over my creative process or I’d go nuts. But I also knew if I broke my word to the girls and worked on the story without them, they’d be pissed. I weighed my options and came up with the only conclusion I could.

My mental health won out.

Therefore, I decided to create accounts in my pen name and was now on POF and SSD as Grace Martin using my real photo, and my profile clearly stated that I was doing research for a book. But I still felt guilty, with good reason. I was breaking my oath.

Even though the girls had promised to meet me for coffee after work five days a week until we mapped out the story, the weekend stretched out in front of me and I gave into temptation by Saturday night.

So here I sat, trying to convince myself that there was no harm in looking at the messages in my in-box. That I was only doing what needed to be done for the book, yet, I hesitated.

On Thursday, I’d been determined to message with as many men as possible in order to get a feel for the type of guys who frequent these dating sites. I wanted to see the vast differences between the catfish Kasey encountered and honest men just looking for love. In addition, if truth were told, I was tired of sitting at home, so
if
in the course of research I stumbled across someone I was interested in, mores the better.

It had been two days since I’d posted both profiles and I was shocked to find them so full. Either there were a lot of desperate men in Tulsa or there weren’t a lot of women to choose from in this area. It wasn’t as if I was a knockout. I’m more of the kid sister type. More cherub faced than an exotic beauty like Angela, pint sized in comparison to Kasey’s long slender frame. My boobs were just average next to Janeane’s double D’s and my ass was put to shame by Kristina’s Voluptuous Maximus. Basically, I didn’t stand out in a crowd, but wasn’t exactly plain either. My best feature was my hair, but the rest of me wasn’t bad either in a short, blonde, big-eyed, firm legged, glowing skin kind of way.

I scanned through the messages while I fought with my guilt, but I figured what’s the harm in just looking. I opened the first message and I laughed instantly when I read, “
I’ll sum up internet dating in two words for your book. Hopeful and emasculating.”

I continued to scan through the messages, which ranged from insulting to downright rude. There was
“Hey, baby, you’ll be starring in my wet dreams tonight”
to
“If I agree to an interview, I accept all forms of payment. But fucking is my preferred form.”