Watching You: KJ Elite Inc. (35 page)

“Bros before hoes and all that shit, huh?” I mumbled, creeping up the stairs on high alert.

“You’re my favorite hoe though, and I’d put you before any bro, any day.” I heard Matt reply just loud enough so he knew I heard him.

Show off. Guy had ears like a dang bat.

When I finally reached the bedroom, I closed the door behind me and glanced around the room taking a mental inventory or where every single thing was. It was weird how I had taken to doing this since the first time the stalker was in my house. If I noticed anything just a little off, I went on high alert and knew something was off.

That or I was really freakin’ paranoid. Either of which was a total possibility.

I let out the breath I was unconsciously holding, strolling over to the bed.

What to do, now. I glanced over at the desk Tommy had brought up and put in the corner by the closet. I supposed I could try and put some words to paper, but that would only make me think and right now, thinking was the very last thing I wanted to do.

That left sleeping, or bath. Hmm….

Where’s the whiskey? My eyes narrowed and I looked over to where I left it on the nightstand. No whiskey. Damn him.

A swishing noise had me turning back towards the desk; all too quickly a hand clamped over my mouth and the bed dipped as someone put a knee next to me, giving them a better stance to hold me still. They lowered their mouth to my ear, from out of my view and whispered eerily, “They should never have left you alone. Not even for a second Annie.”

I was fighting with all my might, but they way outweighed me and I had no chance so I gave up the struggle to hear what he was saying. It gave me a chance to catch my breath and plan my next move. The one time I’m not strapped.

“I will let go, but you have to be a good girl and promise not to scream. I promise I won’t hurt you.” 

His mouth was touching the shell of my ear and if that wasn’t enough to do it, he sniffed my hair, effectively making me shudder with repulsion.

I took as deep a breath as I could and nodded my understanding, agreement.

They slowly pulled their hand away and slid a hand under my arms to help me stand.

Weirdest stalker ever. I’m pretty sure. I don’t have a ton of personal interactive experience with them, not really.

They took a step beside me and it brought them more into my line of sight, but they had camo paint on their face. So they’ve been hiding in the wood line. How did trained snipers not spy them?

“I had a little insider help.” Their voice was giddy and deep – definitely a man. Familiar though. Creepier if anything though, because I knew I knew him and because it seemed like he read my thoughts.

“We don’t have much time. He’s coming and we have to go, Annie.”

“Who are you?” I whispered, trying my damnedest to keep my voice steady.

“I can’t tell you that. Not yet. I don’t want you to be scared.” He said, soothingly.

“I promise I won’t yell. I need to know.”

He seemed to have some sort of tender feelings for me, so I was going to exploit them as best I could. I knew a great tool in my back pocket would be personal touches, but I might vomit – or choke him – if I touch him, so I hold off.

“You know me. Just think back. I have always been watching over you. You’re my love, Annie and I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you. I’ve been watching and keeping him at bay.”

There was a hint of regret in his voice and I had to wonder if he regretted keeping me, as he thought, safe or he regretted that I was in this position now; why did I feel a twinge of sympathy for his sorrow? The confusion must have shown on my face because he gave a small shake of his head and put a hand on my arm. “Oh, no. I… I’m sorry I didn’t protect you well enough, but I’ll do better this time.”

Okay, this guy really was disturbing and in that “freak” category as far as stalkers went. Weren’t they supposed to be violent and all, “if you don’t love me we both die?”

“Tell me who you are.” I pushed again.

“We don’t have any more time. I fear he’s here. In the house, already. He’s found the tunnels that Tommy kept hidden.”

Dread washed over me. Matty; he’s downstairs and has no idea what’s going on. It’ll be all my fault if my best friend gets hurt (or worse) because I was so selfish to bring him into this mess of mine. This mess that I have no idea how I stumbled into, but it’s mine none the less. One word he said, strikes me and I can’t wrap my head around it.

“Tunnels?”

I actually gulped and pretty sure my eyes bugged out. Tunnels could not be a good thing…especially if a stalker knew about them
and
was telling me that someone else who wasn’t supposed to know, knew. Seriously, who was I in another life to have deserved this? Two people who wanted me, possibly, dead? I better go kissing babies and donating my small fortune after I make it out of this.

“Escape routes – his extreme case emergency exit. Tommy likes to be prepared.”

Okay, now he sounded like he really adored my husband, not me. I gave a mental shrug - if he wanted to jump on the Tommy-needs-a-stalker-train, who was I to stop him? My conscience kicked me. Bitch, this was self-survival time; me, then them.

“Please.” I almost begged. I had to know who I was fighting.

He stalled a total of six seconds (I counted) and then said, “I can’t take the paint off right now. Think back though – high school.”

It was all I needed. Those two words put a hurting and a deep, dark, cold fear in me that rooted me to the spot; tethered me to that time. It was a likely possibility that my jaw was on the floor and he could just walk right into my mouth.

“Leif?” My voice croaked.

I finally took a step back, unsure why I was still so close to him, allowing him to touch me. The world seemed to be shaking like we were in the middle of an earthquake but I realized it was just me, shaking my head furiously in denial.
“I swear to you Annie, I will not hurt you. But we have to go. He’s coming.”

I wanted to scream at him and pound his chest, find my .22 and leave him with a nice little souvenir for all the suffering he put me through; the bruises and broken arm I left him with last time weren’t enough. He wasn’t allowed to call me Annie, never, but in that moment I processed his words further and set myself straight.

“Who?” I asked.

I was thinking that he was way past cuckoo for cocoa puffs and likely the only thing I had to fear.

Boy, could I ever be so wrong.

This whole ordeal seemed to be one of slow motion, to deepen the effect; almost as if remaining quiet kept them at bay but speaking about the things we feared, they would come to light.

The balcony door swung open in an eerily silent fashion and standing there, locked and loaded is Dillon. His .9 mm was reflecting light from the full moon, making it even more ominous, dangerous.

Thank. Hallelujah.

Using the distraction, I make a break for it and kick off to run for the safety of Dillon’s arms when Leif grabs me by the shoulder; getting a handful of my hair, he yanks me back. He quietly breathes out an apology but he’s yanking still, pulling me into his body. Dillon takes a step forward, for which Leif takes another step back.

“Let her go Leif and we can figure this out. We can get you the help you need.” Dillon says in that tone he uses on injured animals.

“You can’t have her.”

In my periphery I see something shine by the light of the lamp and he’s jabbing it out in Dillon’s direction. Deep down, I strangle the sob that threatens to escape.

Shit just got real. I can handle guns, but knives… no thanks. In my opinion, they’re way more unpredictable and don’t come with a safety. No, the only knives I feel comfortable with are hunting knives but in this situation, I’d prefer… say, a Styrofoam child’s sword.

“Leif, put the knife down and let her go.” Good idea!

As I’m saying my prayers, I squeeze my eyes and hope that Tommy can hear me willing him here. I’m shaken from my thoughts as the bedroom door is kicked open and Matt clears the room, taking in the scene. My eyes fly open as I think that my prayers have been answered, and in a way they have; Matt will try to save me, but he isn’t the last face I want to see if this all turns south. Well, farther south.

“Matty.” I whimper.

“I’m here sweetheart.” He creeps into the room and I can see the cogs running in his head as he devises some sort of plan. I can’t imagine what an agent slash publisher can do in this situation, but I’m pleased to see him nonetheless. My selfish tendencies creep in and I think, at least I won’t die alone. Then, I smack myself because that is not how I should be thinking right now. If anyone deserves to die…

“Leif, please put the knife down.” I ask, swearing to myself that no matter what, I won’t beg.

“Dillon, why don’t you put the gun down?” Matt half suggests and my brows climb to the back of my head by way of my forehead.

Hello, is this thing on?

“How’s about we get rid of the knife first?” I plead with no one and everyone.

Leif has been murmuring something behind me since Dillon showed up and I only catch bits and pieces of it.

“Been too close, all along,” and “I knew it, no one believed me!” were the most terrifying.

“Leif, what didn’t anyone believe?” I asked him, turning ever so slightly, to peer at his face. The paint held but I could tell he was sweating bullets – how ironic.

That damn sympathy returned and despite the shit-tuation we were currently tangled up in, I knew you should get all the “facts” or thoughts if you will, before anyone in here goes bang-bang!

He turned his gaze to me still keeping Dillon in his sights and opened his mouth, but in an incredibly fast whirl of movement, Matt lunged for me, Dillon pulled the trigger twice and Leif shrieked out in pain.

Matt grabbed a hold to me, knocked me onto the bed, out of the way and as Leif went down, before Dillon could advance, Matt wrenched me up his body putting half the room between us and Dillon than already existed.

“Don’t come any closer.” He warned.

Out of nowhere, Matt had an FXS .45 tactical with flashlight and silencer attached, pointed square at Dillon’s forehead.

“Carver?” Dillon asked, almost impressed.

“Dilly?” I squeaked, paling further.

“Put the gun down, now.” It was no longer a warning, but a threat.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s the one; the one that Leif was talking about. Think about it – he’s been with you the entire time and knows all your secrets. How else did he get into your apartment and do all those things? Use your brain Taylor Ann. You’re smarter than that!” He yelled at me, waving his gun.

“I said, put the gun down. That is the last time I’ll tell you.”

“Look at him, Taylor. Clean cut my ass. He’s got a silencer for fuck’s sake! How many rich boys do you know that use a silencer, let alone own a fucking .45?”

My head was swimming with this turn of events; on one hand, I knew Dillon almost my whole life and on the other, I knew Matt for much less time, but completely. He really was there for me, the whole time when I was alone; scared, heartbroken and lonely.

“That’s enough.”

A look crossed over Dillon’s face. What the actual french toast was happening right now?

Matt’s grip on me only tightened and I just didn’t even think to doubt his motives, his appearance or his presence in my life – he was always there. Always.

“Did you know your dad didn’t have a heart attack? He was attacked!” Dillon pushed, eyes wild.

My eyes grew impossibly large, but I tried to hide it from him because quite frankly, he was scaring the hell out of me and seemed delirious.

Matt cocked the hammer back on his piece but before the warning processed, boots stomped up the staircase; Tommy and Peyton shouting, calling out for us had me distracted.

“You could have had me, but you just won’t stop chasing that asshole. He doesn’t deserve you and he can never have you. You’re MINE!” Dillon roared.

Matt and Dillon pulled the trigger simultaneously and the sound rang out, deafening me; deflating me. Dillon barked out and hit the ground while I felt Matt slump the most miniscule amount in my arms and it smacked me in the face like a brick.

I took my eyes off of Dillon and looked over at Matty’s face; his cool, calm and collected exterior was gone and all I saw was rough, rugged and worn. This man was a born fighter and how I didn’t see it was beyond me. Once more, the door banged open as if someone hooked it up with an explosive charge, and the two knuckleheads came rushing in, guns raised, full battle rattle (protective gear to keep from being penetrated by bullets). I’d thank hallelujah but hallelujah let me down when I thought Dillon was here to save me from Leif. Was Leif really just protecting me in his own sick way? And what about Dillon?

Dillon. I turned back to where he had just fallen but all I saw were the linens billowing in the open doorway, highlighting a blood trail.

Oh, fuck.

I guess I got my answer.

Matt slumped down, noticing too that he was gone and no longer fighting the pain as gracefully.