A Monster Is Coming, page 4
Diving in with Niamh, she wouldn’t trust it. She was messed up in the head, and I got it. It didn’t take a genius to know who her father was, and to have been in her company for a couple of hours to recognize it. Also, it helped one messed-up head to recognize another.
I’d been forced to watch my brother and sister drown. That was how messed up my father was. He wanted his children to see what happened to weaklings. Only the strong Orlov survived.
I had tried to dive into that pool to save my sister and brother. On each occasion I had been forced to take a swift punishment—a beating. It had been easy to take, especially because I’d been dealing with the grief of watching my siblings die.
My father had been evil.
He didn’t care, and because they had died as weaklings, he wouldn’t even mark their graves with the name Orlov. They had been buried, and a simple cross had been placed to show where they were. No other details. Like strangers.
Stepping back, I moved to the car and opened the passenger door. “Get in,” I said.
“I’m not getting in a car with you. I don’t even know you.”
This made me smile. “Good, but you’re going to get in the car, and I’m taking you home.”
“You don’t know where I live.”
“Actually, I do.”
This made her tense up.
“How?” she asked.
“You filled out all the details at the gym. I got to read your file today, seeing as you’re my first client. I need to start taking on more clients. I saw your address, and it is not hard to remember. It’s late. I’ll take you home.” I didn’t want her walking the streets. She might have been okay to do this before I arrived, but I wouldn’t allow her to do it now.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said.
Stubborn woman.
“You do realize it doesn’t matter where you go, murderers and psychopaths are everywhere.”
“Nothing bad happens in Pickle Quest. Trust me, it’s a nice town.”
It wasn’t going to be nice for long, while Niamh and I stayed here. We were going to bring danger and chaos.
“I can pick your ass up and force your butt in my car if you’d like,” I said.
She folded her arms and I waited, brows raised. If she wanted to test me, then I was more than happy to force her into my car.
I took a step toward her and she quickly held up her hands. “Okay, fine, it’s okay. It’s fine. I’ll get in the car.”
I suspected she was going to run away, but it would seem I didn’t have the first clue as to how Niamh was going to react. She walked toward me, slid past, and sat in the passenger seat of my car. This was progress.
I put the child lock on the door and slammed it closed. I wasn’t stupid, and of course, as I rounded the car, I watched her test the door handle. She was going to try and make her escape, just as I knew she would. It was good to know some of my instincts were right on point with Niamh.
Whistling to myself, I climbed into the driver’s side of the car, and started up the engine. My machine purred to life, and I began to pull out of the parking space and head onto the road, in the direction of Niamh’s apartment building.
I hadn’t rented an apartment in a shitty part of town. There were some things I refused to do. Instead, I had purchased a house in not the best part of town, but a decent street that had kids playing out in their front yard. I would blend. There were several men who were bachelors living on the street. It was a nice family location, which was one of the reasons I got it. I would lie to Niamh and say I rented it from a friend.
There were some creature comforts I would take with me. During the whole drive, Niamh didn’t speak at all, but I knew her game. She was trying to keep things as distant between us as possible. I could play that game. It would only be a matter of time before she talked to me.
****
Niamh
One Week Later
I expected Peter to get bored.
Instead, the lessons at the gym were every day, except Sundays when the gym was closed. Not only were we now working on my swimming, Peter had also opted for different exercise strategies. I thought he was going to get me on the treadmill or doing weights, or other machine-based routines.
Instead, we had to do stretches, and work out muscles. Before we went to the pool, he got me on the mat, working on my core, doing some stretches and yoga poses. My body was not designed to do any of these, but he wouldn’t take us straight to the pool.
One hour with close contact—him touching different parts of my body, showing me how to do each pose so I didn’t hurt myself. Then we did an hour in the pool, followed by a thirty-minute cooldown session back on the mats.
Peter was always there.
Close to me.
Six days a week.
That wasn’t all. I intended to keep my distance, which should have worked, but didn’t. He would wait for me because Peter had volunteered to walk me to work. Yep, every day, Monday through Saturday. I also happened to have Sunday off work, not that I did a lot with my time.
Then, to top it all off, after work, Peter waited for me. He would drive me home. So far, for the past week, I had been able to keep silent. No small talk. No risk of giving away little secrets I wanted to stay hidden.
My only reprieve from all things Peter were the hours I worked, and when I went home to sleep. Unless my traitorous sleep ignored my request, and made me think about Peter.
I didn’t like any of this.
I totally got that Peter was an attractive man, but I’d never been put in a position like this. I’d never been close to any man. Not even the men my father brought around. Sometimes he got my mother to entertain them. There were times I truly felt my father loved the power he held over my mother. The fact he could get her to do anything he wanted with a simple click of his fingers. It was a power play to him, one he thoroughly enjoyed, and annoyed me.
Ignoring the thoughts of my parents, I stretched my arms out in front of me, drawing my ass back and then flopped down on the mat, all too aware of Peter’s hands at the base of my back.
“That’s it,” he said. “Slowly, remove the tension.”
There was no way I was removing any kind of tension. My whole entire body was tense, my core was tense.
His fingers massaged areas I wasn’t used to being touched, and as he pushed up the shirt I wore, I remembered the scars on my back. Quickly, I moved, pulled away from him, and spun around on the carpet.
“I’ve got to get to work,” I said.
We’d already done a lot of stretches, and time in the pool. This was our cooldown session where I only had a shirt and the bathing suit to provide protection for myself. Not that I thought I was in any kind of danger from Peter.
All my life I’d been told I wasn’t the kind of woman men wanted. There was no desire, no passion, no yearning, nothing. I was perfectly okay with that. I didn’t know how long I would be in Pickle Quest. It wasn’t that I had a solid plan. Far from it. The only plan I had was to keep moving. Not to get too comfortable in one place and not to build bridges, or even chance a relationship.
My father could use it against whoever decided to be in a relationship with me, and I would not let that happen. This was my problem, and I was going to deal with it in my way.
“I told you, you’ve got to cooldown. It’s good for the muscles.”
He went to reach for me, but I held my hand up. “Which I totally get, but I feel fine. No stiff muscles, no other worries or concerns.” I started to chuckle, trying to distract him. This helped me scramble to my feet. “Thank you,” I said.
I hesitated before heading toward the changing rooms, but I didn’t even get a step before Peter grabbed my hand and pulled me close.
“What’s the problem?” he asked.
“Nothing. There is no problem.” We were very close, and for some odd reason, I didn’t know if I liked it. I was trying not to freak out.
“Haven’t I shown that you can trust me?” he asked.
I’d not really been assessing him on trust. Did I believe he was who he said he was? Part of me did. The one side of my brain that had to wonder why a hot guy would work at a gym in a small town. I’d made up all kinds of stories during my lunch break and slow periods at the diner, to help stave off boredom. None of them made any sense. I’d thought he could be an assassin, part of the Italian Mafia, part of the British Mafia—I didn’t even know if there was a British Mafia—or a gang, maybe. Again, I wasn’t exactly up to date on the kind of rival gangs my father had enemies in. He might not even be the enemy to my father. For all I know, this was his right-hand man.
Then, I’d decided he was a runaway like me. Or, he was just plain and simply a guy trying to find his place in the world. I was both—a runaway who was trying to find her place in the world without causing anyone to get hurt.
“Ugh, I really … I don’t even know why I have to trust you, but work is calling.” Also, I had a strange sensation as he held onto my hand. I … kind of liked it. I think. Again, I’m not sure. I’m not used to men touching me, unless it’s my dad giving me a beating or a punishment for whatever bad stuff I’d been accused of, mainly by my mother. There went the sucky memories again.
It wasn’t so bad, not all the time.
Not that I can remember a good time with my dad. He’d never been the kind of father I could get a hug from. He never kissed my boo-boo or told me everything was going to be okay. Never. Neither had my mother. Whenever I did get a cut or graze, I had to take care of it myself.
Peter let me go, and I nearly breathed a sigh of relief. I had to get away, as far away as soon as possible. This was scary.
I stepped into the changing rooms, going to my locker like I did every day. Grabbing my stuff, I snuck into the bathroom and changed into my waitress uniform. My hair was nearly dry from doing the cooldown stretches.
Opening the door, I almost jumped out of my skin. There was one of the women I noticed lurking around the gym the past few days, watching Peter.
“You know, he will never go for someone like you,” she said.
Normally, I’m very good with names and faces, but I was drawing a blank with this woman.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.
She took a step toward me and then pressed a long, thin finger against my chest.
“Back the fuck off him. He’s not yours to have.”
I was being threatened. This was now clear to me. The woman startled me because she had a wedding ring on her hand.
“Look, I don’t know who you are, or why you’re even doing this, but you’ve got this all wrong. Peter is helping me learn to swim and that is all.” I wasn’t here to cause problems. All I wanted was to be invisible.
She glared at me, and I quickly left the changing rooms, stepped out into the main entrance of the gym, only to come face-to-face with the problem.
Peter was growing a little fan base. Again, it wasn’t hard to see. Being a waitress made me seen but not heard, and allowed me to listen in on all kinds of conversations. I was aware he’d taken on more clients, which brought me back to the trust issue.
I couldn’t help but worry. The heavy brick in the pit of my stomach that caused me to freak out, also helped keep me on my toes.
“You’re ready?” he asked.
No, no, no, I wasn’t ready. This was not helping me. The idea of coming to the gym was to lose weight. To attempt to change what I looked like. I knew this wasn’t going to be plastic surgery kind of changes, but it might help me become unrecognizable. Yeah, I even struggled not to mock myself at the very thought.
“Look, I think I should go alone today.” As I made the suggestion, I was already walking toward the main doors in the hope of doing exactly that, only Peter had other plans.
What was it with this man constantly grabbing at me? This wasn’t fair. He all but dragged me to his car. I wonder if I could still scream “stranger danger,” and whether it would count. Not that I was going to do that.
Being dragged to a car by a guy I didn’t know wasn’t exactly knew to me. My dad had a tendency to do it often. He’d send one of his goons to pick me up. The first time it happened when I was a kid, I was so excited. My dad had come to get me. Well, not my dad, but someone who knew my dad, worked for him. Yeah, for some reason, that ended up with me getting my face slapped and locked in my bedroom for the weekend, with someone pushing only bars of candy beneath my door. By the time he left, the place was trashed, and Mom was crying. I did have an en-suite bathroom, so there were no worries about toilet breaks.
That happened often, which sucked big time.
It didn’t take me long to figure out a way to escape. No one came to check on me, so finding a ladder and using all the courage I could, I’d climbed out of my bedroom window and made my escape.
Peter opened the car door, and like every other time, he put the child lock on. Every time I left his car, I might also remove the child lock, but I couldn’t seem to completely get rid of it. Not going to happen. I didn’t know the first thing about cars.
He slammed the door closed, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had pissed him off. It wasn’t me, or it shouldn’t be me, because I didn’t do anything wrong.
My stupid brain was working against me, and suddenly began to list the potential things I’d done wrong. First, insult him. Second, during our beginning warm-up, I might have accidently kicked him in the balls. Again, that hadn’t been intentional. I’d not been trying to hurt him. In fact, what I had been trying to do was stretch, and his fingers touched my stomach, I flinched, and somehow managed to knee him in the balls.
He rounded the car, and then climbed into the passenger seat. Every other time, he started up the engine, and we’d drive off toward the diner. He didn’t turn over the ignition. No sound of a purring car. We sat there in silence.
I wondered if his little stalker was at a window, her face pressed against the glass. I had to stifle a giggle at the thought of her face pressed against the glass, watching me, watching us.
There was no us.
“Do you want to tell me what the problem is?” Peter asked.
“Yeah, you’re not listening to me. I’ve got to get to work, and we’re just sitting here, staring.”
“Something is bothering you,” he said.
“Nothing is bothering me.” I pushed some of the hair off my face. I didn’t get a chance to put my hair in a proper ponytail, and strands were escaping. “Just a warning, though, there is a woman who I think might be stalking you. I don’t know if you and she have anything going on, but she has told me to pretty much stay away from you. Also, I think she might have hinted at me having ideas when it came to you. I don’t have ideas. In case you were wondering. I don’t even think about it, so you don’t have to worry about any of that because I don’t have feelings for you.”
I couldn’t help but ramble.
Peter was looking at me, and it made me a little uneasy because I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what to say or do, so I continued to look ahead in the vain hope that I knew what I was doing.
“I’ll handle Wendy,” he said, turning over the ignition.
And just like that, it would seem the conversation was terminated. Not going to lie, I was a little disappointed, and I didn’t even know why.
Chapter Four
Peter
One Month Later
This was new for me.
I was not used to a woman being like … Niamh. I thought I was breaking her down insisting on the close contact, stretch exercises, but I didn’t even think she registered what was happening. If she did, she was completely silent about it. Sometimes, she even hummed.
When I was in the pool with her again, there was nothing. No sign of arousal. It’s like she’s completely oblivious to me being a man. I didn’t get it.
Driving up to the private location early Sunday morning, I put my car into “park,” climbed out, and stared off into the forest. As a kid, I was forced to hunt in a forest. It was part of being an Orlov. According to my father, a real man can survive anything, all weather conditions, all woodland creatures. To survive meant power. It meant making the elements my bitch. Again, all according to my father, which was a load of bullshit.
I lost a sister with this new wave of testing. My father wanted strong children, not weaklings. My sister was killed by running away from what had scared her. We found her, fallen, blood seeping from her head. Death had already claimed her. She must have fallen. What I didn’t know at the time was my father actually paid people to hunt for us. He wanted to test our strength. Sick fuck. I had killed anyone who came near me when it was my time in the woods.
Being the eldest son, he ran all tests through me, and I never failed any of them. I wasn’t allowed to fail. My need to survive always kept me one step ahead. I was willing to do whatever it took to live.
I despised the man I called a father. Hated the woman who claimed to be my mother. She did nothing to protect us. I saw a lot of death at a young age. It was only when I met Ivan Volkov that I realized my father wanted me dead. He wanted us all dead, and he was using his children as a means for entertainment.
Wanting strong men and women—fighters—was a lie. He really just wanted entertainment. He made a sick and twisted game of it. His friends were rich, wealthy, disgusting sons of bitches, who could watch and gamble on who would survive. Ivan was the one to show me what was happening. He opened my eyes to what my life had become.
I wasn’t earning my father’s respect or gaining my place at his side. No, I was the best player in his game. So I put him in his own game. I also took out a few of the men who sat back and watched, who bet money on my sisters and brothers losing their lives.
After I took out my father, I learned he had some kind of deal going with several foster homes. Not all the boys and girls who took part were family. No, he used unwanted children, those who were problems, who were easy to put on the runaway list, where no one would look for them. If they turned up dead, no one would care.
