vandalize, and they beat people up to the point of being unrecognizable. If you’ve ever heard a story about the Madden gang, multiply it by ten because those boys are just about the worst thing around these parts.”
I frowned at her words. Bullies didn’t scare me; they were weak and cowardly. “If I ever run into one of them, I’d like to give them a piece of my mind.”
“If you ever run into one of them, I suggest you run in the opposite direction if you value your life.”
I sighed. Michelle was right. You didn’t poke an angry bull in the eye; you ran away from it screaming. “Why don’t the police do anything about them?”
Michelle shrugged. “Too scared, I guess. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of one of those boys. There isn’t a law or a bone they won’t break in order to get what they want.”
Her words sent a chill down my spine, and I felt cold all over. All this morbid talk about the Madden gang was bringing down my already low mood.
“I better get going, Michelle,” I said with a wave.
“I’ll see you on Friday. Be safe.” Michelle returned the wave and went back to sorting through the endless pile of paperwork she always had.
As I stepped outside, the cool air hit me like tiny bullets, and I hurried out onto the street, wrapping my arms around myself to stay warm. The weather in fall was unpredictable. We’d wake up with warm mornings that would end with freezing nights. I was dressed in baggy jeans and a sweater that seemed to absorb the cool air, and I was kicking myself for not taking a jacket with me.
“Estella Markson, you are a silly, silly girl,” I said to myself in a British accent as my teeth chattered.
Don’t ask me why I spoke to myself in a British accent. It was a strange habit I’d picked up at a young age when my mom and I had watched British comedies together. I’d loved the actors’ accents so much that I had begun imitating it and it had sort of just stuck with me. It was one of the few good memories I had left of my mom now.
“Estella Markson, do you always talk to yourself?”
The voice came out of nowhere and I jumped back, glancing from side to side. The streetlights were on the other side of the road, so this side of the street was full of shadows. From my right, a solid figure detached itself from the wall and began walking towards me.
It was a boy. Well, a man, I guess. He looked like he was a few years older than me and was dressed in fitted black jeans and a black leather jacket. My senses were on high alert and I didn’t take my eyes off him.
As he came closer, and the dim light fell on him, I noticed that he had longish brown hair that was slicked back. A strand or two fell onto his face like they’d been artfully placed that way. And, wow, that face. It was chiseled and taut with full lips and a cleft on the chin.
The guy was downright hot and he’d heard me talking to myself. Could I be any more embarrassing? Still, hot guys could be muggers or rapists and I wasn’t going to let my guard down just because he had a pretty face.
“Um…uh…I.” My eyes darted around the streets, searching for any signs of people out and about, but there was no one in sight. It was just me and the guy.
“What are you doing out here all by yourself, Stelle?”
Stelle. The hot guy had just called me Stelle. He had just spoken to me and a normal person would say something back, but obviously I wasn’t capable of being normal for one second.
“Oh…I’m...uh…waiting for someone.” I was still feeling threatened. Maybe he was a distraction and he had an accomplice who would grab me from behind once my guard was down. I darted a glance over my shoulder just to make sure, but the streets were still empty.
He cocked a brow. “Your boyfriend?”
I deserved a medal for how stupid I was acting. Now the hot—possibly dangerous—guy thought I was a complete psycho and that I had a boyfriend. “No, no, my brother.” Then, for good measure, I added, “He’s a decorated police officer.”
The guy leaned against the wall of the community center and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. He lit it up, inhaled, and blew out a cloud of smoke before turning back to me. “Is that so?”
I nodded, scrunching up my nose at the horrible smell of the cigarette. “Yep, and he has a gun and a Taser.”
“Fascinating.” The guy regarded me with his dark eyes and then finally smirked. “Your brother’s not really a police officer, is he?”
My heartbeat accelerated from my lie being caught out. I shook my head, my body trembling from the biting cold. “N-no. He’s a student at Statlen University.”
His eyes sparkled in the dim light. “Let me tell you something, darlin’. If you’re in this part of Penthill this late at night by yourself, don’t lie to a guy you don’t know and then admit that you were lying. At least follow through with the ‘my brother’s a police officer’ story.”
I gulped. He was right. I was stupid for coming up with the lie and even more stupid for admitting that I’d lied in the first place.
“Just because my brother’s not a police officer doesn’t mean that he still won’t kick your ass if you try anything funny.”
The guy held up a hand in defense, an amused smile lingering on his lips. “I’m not gonna lay a hand on you unless you tell me to, Stelle.”
There he went calling me Stelle again like he’d known me for years. And I still had no idea who he was. “I don’t even know
“Vincent,” he said simply, taking a puff of his cigarette again.
I narrowed my eyes as the cigarette smoke drifted into my face. “Well, Vincent, if you’re going to continue talking to me then you need to put that thing out.”
Vincent’s eyebrows shot up and he regarded me with this look like he couldn’t quite figure me out. Finally, he sighed and flicked the cigarette onto the pavement, putting it out with the tip of his boot.
He turned back to me, looking thoroughly annoyed. “So, Stelle, is there anything else I can change about myself to accommodate you better during this five minute conversation?”
Taken aback by his tone, I shook my head. Seriously, where was my brother when I needed him? There was nothing stopping this guy from kidnapping me except for a vague threat about my no-show brother.
“N-no, it’s f-fine. I j-just…” I trailed off, my teeth still chattering. I wasn’t too sure if my teeth were chattering in fear or from the cold.
Vincent sighed. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Here!” He began pulling off his leather jacket and I started shaking my head, not wanting to annoy him further.
“I’m not c-cold. Y-you’re not trying to get me to let my guard down and then kidnap me, are you? Because my family has no money to pay for a ransom.”
I was hypnotized by how dark his eyes were, as he swung the jacket over my shoulders and slipped both my arms through each sleeve. Shivers ran up my arms as his hand brushed my skin. A musky scent shrouded me and my heartbeat spiked.
A slow grin spread across Vincent’s face that both excited and terrified me. He leaned in closer and my eyes snapped to those full lips of his. “I think I should be the one fearing for my safety. You were just talking to yourself in a British accent a few minutes ago.”
Heat spread from my neck to my face and then back again. Feeling mortified, I lowered my gaze onto his neck. There was a squiggle on it.
I squinted at it, trying to figure out what the marking was. Giving up, I let my eyes wander to his bare arms.
I stopped breathing. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Layer upon layer of tattoos were inked on his arm—both arms, in fact—intertwined with one another, some images, some words. I’d never seen someone with that many tattoos in my life.
Nausea rolled into my belly like a poisonous fog, filling it up until I thought I was going to pass out.
Tearing my eyes away from his arms, in an effort to keep my emotions under control, my eyes shot back to his neck and the squiggle that was on it. The squiggle wasn’t a squiggle at all. It was a tattoo in a medieval looking font that said “M”.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
