(ZANE)
"Oh, honey, look." A woman says to her husband, holding up the rag doll that came from the Lockwood mansion. "Amelia would love this."
God. Please buy it and get that evil thing away from my store.
"How much?" The man asks.
"Forty dollars." She says, checking the tag.
"That's a bit too much for a doll."
"I can give it to you for twenty." I say. "It has been sitting on the shelf for a while just collecting dust. I'd like to see it go to someone who I know will appreciate it."
Buttering up customers and making them think I am doing them a favour always works like charm when I want to get rid of something. The man nods and agrees that he will buy it. Whoever Amelia is, I am thankful to her for her love for creepy dolls. I like strange and unusual stuff, but clowns is where I draw the line.
The couple pays for the doll and leaves. After that, I walk around the shop, dusting the shelves and repositioning the items to put the new arrivals on display. Mondays tend to be slow, so today gives me a downtime.
Then my thoughts return to the mountain of a man who broke in on Saturday night. I like to think that I would have put up a good fight had he attempted to attack me. But the fact is that he would have crushed me into a bug. The ease with which he snatched the bat away from my hand and pinned me against the wall said much.
Even as scared as I had been, being pressed on the wall with his grey eyes pinned on me, the feel of his large body against mine… well, lets just say that I thought of that moment a lot before I went to bed last night.
As for paying me five grand for the box? I nearly passed out when I checked the bank account the day before and saw the transaction. I never gave him my name or my account information, but the money appeared on my account.
So, who is this guy?
Was Dante right? Is the guy a part of some crime ring that procures unique items for wealthy clients? He seems too decent for a criminal, that is, if he is one. If he was, he could have just taken the ring and left without paying me a dime.
What's even crazier is that I didn't report him to the police. When they showed up that night, I apologized for being'mistaken' about the burglary, then sent them on their way. Did I do that just because the guy was so hot? Why did I do that?
Because the guy was so hot?
I must be out of my mind.
Then again, it has been months since I last got laid. It is hard to not think with my dick. Especially with a man that screams rough, make-me-moan-my-name-backwards bomb sex.
"Good afternoon," I say when I hear the doorbells jingle. I turn to see an airbus hired man wearing a plain t-shirt with a black jacket on top. This guy is a damn knockout too. "Can I help you find something?"
"You can, actually." He says in a smooth tone. A weird chill goes through me when he comes closer. I can't explain why, but for some reason, I want to run away from him. "I'm looking for an old wooden box, which has symbols etched to the sides."
Then my unease intensifies.
"With a ring inside of it?"
"Bingo." He says his deep brown eyes appear to darken even more. As he stops a foot in front of me, a faint trace of woodsmoke reaches my nose. "So, I came to the right place?"
"Well," I scratch the back of my head, feeling uneasy. "I did have the box, but I don't have it anymore."
His smile falls. "You sold it?"
My heart thrashes as I try to form a response, but instead, I just struggle. I recall the man who took the box, then compare him to the man standing in front of me. They both exude strength and scream badass. Are they rival thieves? Do they plan to kill each other?
"Stolen," I say, trying to be confident when I'm anything but that. "Someone broke in here Saturday night and raided my storage room."
"Did you see what they looked like?" he says, coming closer to me.
"N…no." My back bumps on the shelf behind me as I step back. For some reason, I do not want to tell this guy about the handsome thief. "I heard noise, then I called the cops. By the time they got here, the thief was already gone. They took the box and a few other things. It was probably a kid trying to make some quick money."
"You know..." the man begins, then puts an arm over my shoulder. He leans down such that his face is mere inches from mine. "Liars always have a stench to them." He brings his mouth closer to my ear. "And you reek."
My breath hitches. "I…I don't―"
"Tell me who took it." He grabs a fistful of my shirt and shoves me to the wall, hard enough to make my teeth rattle. His eyes look pitch black. "Tell me. Don't you date play games with me, Zane Parks. You don't want to make this any harder than it is. I know of countless ways to make people talk that I'm certain you will find highly unpleasant."
"What? You want to go all hulk on me?" I ask, turning on my smart ass defense. I can't help it. "Will I not like it when you're angry?"
But the man just smiles, which causes a chill to shoot up my spine. "Keep testing me, and you will soon find out."
"I don't know anything, okay. Now get the hell out of my shop before I call the cops on you."
"Those are such brave words from a coward who is about to fall on his knees." Then his expression turns into a strange look, and he leans closer, smelling me. "Interesting."
"What is?"
Other customers enter the shop, which causes the man to loosen his grip on me. He takes a step back and another, with a sinister smile on his face. "I'll be in touch." He says before reaching the door.
As he leaves the door, I heave a heavy sigh. And I feel like I'll crumble on the floor any minute now. Just like he said. Dammit. I greet the customers and head back to the storage room. Breathing becomes difficult with each step I take down the hall. I feel like my throat is closing up and blocking my airway. My lungs burn.
Once I'm in the breakroom, I slide to the floor and listen to the faint rumble of the minifridge as I try to focus on anything but the fear in my gut.
He knows my name.
And he threatened me.
All over a stupid box.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?