Chapter Five
Adam
Three Months Later
Istood on the corner of the street, right opposite the crowded bar where she’d chosen to spend her night. She couldn’t see me. No one could. I had my hood down and I’d become pretty good at blending into the background. Saturday night partygoers were streaming past me, laughing as they headed to the next bar, but no one gave me a second glance. To be a vigilante soldier, you had to learn to hide in plain sight, and I was the best.
I watched as she threw her head back and laughed at something one of her friends said. I loved watching her being so carefree, not knowing whether I was following her tonight. She sipped her drink and looked around the bar, and that was when I noticed a shift in her demeanour. There was an air of apprehension about the way she held herself. In all the months that I’d been following Olivia Cooper, I’d come to know some of her signature traits, and right now, she wasn’t comfortable. I saw it in the way she played with her hair, like she was nervous and needed something to do with her hands. The way she sipped her drink too often as a distraction from her racing thoughts. How her body stiffened, and one leg slid forward as she dropped her hip to the side, making her look like she was at ease, but she was anything but.
Was she looking for me?
Could she sense that I was here, watching?
Was I the one making her nervous?
It had been three months since our first encounter at the Mathers fight. Three months since her game of consequences had begun, and the more I’d shadowed her, the further she’d crawled under my skin. I didn’t just like her, it went way beyond that. I was fascinated, intrigued, beguiled. In short, I was fucking obsessed with her. Even on the rare occasion when we were doing a job and I needed to be focused and channel my inner demons, it didn’t take long for all my thoughts to return to her. I had to know where she was twenty-four-seven, what she was doing and who she was with. Not knowing wasn’t an option. I didn’t care what that looked like to the outside world. I’d never given a fuck about anyone else’s feelings anyway, but with her, she came above all else, even myself.
I took my phone out of my pocket and typed out a text. I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. Give her the reassurance that I was here if anything happened. But most of all, I needed her to understand that, as always, there were consequences to her actions. Consequences that were controlled by me. There’d better not be any trouble tonight, because I was in the mood to fuck shit up if some chancer tried his luck with her.
Me: Where are you?
As soon as I’d pressed send, she looked down at her own mobile and her forehead wrinkled in thought as she began to type back.
Olivia: Why are you asking? You’re probably here too, you fucking psycho stalker.
She knew me so well, and it made me smile that she still had that fire inside her. After all this time trailing her, studying her, I wanted to know exactly what made her tick. But she hadn’t done what most girls would’ve. She never went to the police or blocked my calls. No. She enjoyed the chase as much as I did. She loved to goad me, and she always replied to my messages right away. She surprised me every day and no one had ever done that.
Me: What are you wearing?
I messaged back, toying with her some more.
The way she grinned, I could tell she’d just huffed out a laugh, and she put her drink down to give me her full attention, tapping away on her screen like she was composing a best-selling, novel-worthy response back to me.
Olivia: Again, why are you asking me that when you’re probably looking at me right now? I would call you a creep but coward fits better. You prefer to hide in the shadows and torment me rather than face me and get shot down in real life. But then, I guess rejection is hard for some guys to take. Especially when they have no balls and a tiny dick.
She was trying to piss me off, but it didn’t work. We both knew she’d never reject me when the time came. She was strong, but she wasn’t that strong.
Me: Maybe I prefer to watch.
I knew her well enough to know that she’d like that response. My girl was a bad girl, that much I was sure of. She’d grown to like that I watched too, that’s why she’d started leaving her bedroom curtains open at night. I wasn’t stupid. I was also fucking grateful. It’d certainly made things a hell of a lot more interesting lately.
Olivia: Let’s cut the crap. I know it’s you… Adam. Stop following me. Stop texting me. Get a fucking life, you bloody psycho.
And here was the thing. She did know it was me, but on the rare occasion, like tonight–that she acknowledged that–it kind of spoilt the fun. I preferred to be her shadow. Elusive. No identity. A fantasy. I liked it when we messaged as if we were strangers.
I stared at my phone for a few seconds, wondering whether to reply, but I gave up. She wasn’t playing ball tonight and when she was in one of those moods, it wasn’t as much fun. So, I shut my phone off, put it back into the pocket of my jeans and I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting. Waiting and watching. I didn’t know what my next move would be and that’s what made this so interesting. I let her set the pace. I took my cues from her, and whatever tonight was going to bring, it was all down to what would happen in that bar.
After finding out I was here, would she push me further and talk to another guy? For his sake, I fucking hoped not. But Olivia was no fool. She knew exactly what I was capable of. So, when I saw her leave and get into an Uber only moments later, it didn’t surprise me.
Wise move, princess.
I grabbed my phone again and opened the tracker app to make sure she was indeed making wise choices and not heading to another bar to try and shake me off. My boys could be very resourceful when they needed to be and setting up a tracker on Olivia’s phone had been one of those ways. I kept the app open but pocketed my phone, then I pulled my hood off, pushed my helmet over my head and straddled my bike. It roared to life underneath me, and I pulled into the traffic and headed in the direction of her house. I didn’t even trust the Uber at this point. I was taking no chances with her safety.
When I stopped at a red light, I took my phone out to check her position, and I smiled when I saw that she was heading home for the night. That little red dot that was moving through the streets of Sandland, close to where she lived, made me feel slightly less tense. I wouldn’t be happy though, not until I’d seen her safely home, and with my own eyes, not through a screen.
Once I made it to her house, where the little red dot from the app had since stopped moving, I parked around the back of the property and shut my engine off. I kicked out the stand with my foot, hung my helmet off the handlebar, and left my bike in a secluded path–away from prying eyes. I put my hood up, just in case the CCTV caught me, and I jumped onto the wall and put my leg across to scale the fence at the back of her house.
I landed in my usual spot where the soil was soft and the fir trees kept my presence well hidden. Stepping carefully, I walked the side of the property until I could get a clear view of her house, and that’s when I saw the gentle glow from her bedroom. She was sitting in front of her mirror, taking her make up off, and she looked truly stunning. I stood watching her, feeling a calm wash over me that I’d rarely felt before I met her. She was safe, and yet I wanted to crawl out from the shadows and take her. Dirty her up and make her mine. She was the light to my dark. The angel to my devil. But she was my special angel, one that talked back and had attitude by the bucket load. An angel made just for me.
She stood up and walked over to her window, gazing out at the garden below, and I saw what I thought was a gentle smile creep across her face. But then she turned her back on me and within a few seconds, the lights went off and darkness was all I could see.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stood back into the undergrowth, so the light from my screen would remain undetected.
Me: Good girl. You did the right thing. Sweet dreams, Olivia.
Those dots to show she was responding started to dance around on my screen and I laughed out loud when I read her reply.
Olivia: Kiss my ass, you fucking freak.
My business for the night had just taken a turn. Playtime with Olivia was over, for now, and I pushed myself off the outer fence that I was leaning up against to head back to my bike and then to the place we all now called home.
Sandland Asylum.
To most people, the idea of living in an old asylum would probably seem fucked up, but not to us. I’d had my eye on it ever since it’d come onto the market a few months ago, and when we got the necessary cash together to make an offer, along with the backing of some silent partners, we made our move. Now, the Sandland Asylum was ours, and despite it being outside Brinton Manor, we didn’t care. Brinton would always come first, and any locals who wanted to experience what we were building there were more than welcome through our doors. You see, we didn’t just live in the asylum, we were creating a business to rival the shitty little events Sandland’s Renaissance men put on. What had previously been known as Sandland Asylum had been renamed The Sanctuary, and we were hosting club nights unlike anything these towns had ever seen before. We were making a killing in more ways than one.
I drove through the dark streets of Sandland, weaving through the traffic as if I were in a video game. I loved this bike, and the fact that I could get where I wanted without the bullshit of waiting for other road users to get the fuck out of my way was an added bonus. I didn’t like to waste time. Plus, the roar of the engine and the buzz it gave me, along with my uncontrollable thoughts of Olivia, helped to dull the voices that’d plagued my life. Not eradicate exactly, but dull was better than what I’d lived with before.
When I rounded the corner into the road where the asylum was, I could see the crowds already lined up out the front of our gothic, dark, and eerie haven, ready for a night they would never forget. I swerved the bike around, deciding to bypass the front doors, and instead, I opted for the side entrance, our private entrance. A way to avoid any unwanted attention. I parked up and then fished my keys from my pocket, and when I looked up, I saw Devon standing in the doorway having a cigarette.
“Good night?” I asked, nodding behind him towards the sounds of revellers lost to the music and other… pursuits we had on offer.
“There’s a decent crowd,” he replied on a shrug, looking over his shoulder. “But it’ll be a damn sight better once the chapel is up and running.”
We were still in the process of getting the Asylum chapel into a workable state for what we wanted to use it for. When we’d drafted in some builders we knew, they’d told us that the structure wasn’t stable. Add in the fact that the local church diocese were riding our asses about it being sacred land and hitting us with a shitload of petitions and bullshit we couldn’t be bothered with, we’d put the work on hold. Besides, we had plenty of other rooms we could use for the guests. The way I saw it, the chapel was special, but it wasn’t that special. Unfortunately, Devon didn’t share my sentiment and it’d become his personal crusade to try and outwit the church as best he could. A fight against good versus evil, you might say, but which side was truly evil? Only time would tell.
I stood next to Devon and took a deep breath in, savouring the cool night air. We’d really landed on our feet since the Brandon Mathers’ fight night and securing the lease on this place. The Asylum was a rabbit warren of wonder. A real devil’s playground. A darkness full of delights for the heathens of a forgotten generation.
We used the open-plan ground floor for partying, music, and dancing. The kind of stuff we weren’t afraid of the police seeing, if they ever dared to show their faces. The next floor was for more acquired tastes, catering to the hardcore members of The Sanctuary, who came to our nights to get something they couldn’t get anywhere else. Each room held something unique, an experience tailored for any and all needs. We’d promoted Gaz–our clean-up guy–to security, and he spent most of his time making sure the ground floor didn’t mix with the first. Not unless they had an invitation, that is. What happened on the first floor stayed on the first floor.
Then there was the top floor. That was our living quarters. To be fair, what went on there wasn’t much different to the first floor, but it was ours. Our own sanctuary, and very few people got invited up there. If they did, they didn’t stay for very long. They’d know when they’d outstayed their welcome.
“You’re back early,” Devon said, narrowing his eyes at me as if he was waiting for me to give him a reason why while he sucked on the dregs of his cigarette, then threw it down and ground it out with his foot.
“Let’s just say the avenue I was wandering down was a dead end… for now.”
Devon smiled to himself and nodded like he had a clue what I was on about. Then he put his fingers into his mouth and whistled over the beat of the music coming from inside.
“Tyson, get over here,” he shouted, and our trusty Rottweiler came bounding over from the dark corner he’d been hiding in.
He ran straight to me, and I petted him, roughly stroking his head the way he liked. Devon pulled his lead out from his back pocket and secured it to his collar. We wouldn’t normally bother with stuff like that, but leading him through the club with all the people and noise, it was better to have him leashed. He was an honorary soldier after all, and if anyone stepped a foot out of line, looked at him the wrong way, or he just didn’t like them, they’d know about it.
“It’s time for you to go down for the night, mate.” Devon pulled on his lead and Tyson followed him but stayed close to me as best he could.
We kept his bed in our games room, but sometimes, I let him sleep in with me. Having him there helped me to get a better night’s rest. I guess it was the company that settled my raging mind. Although Tyson was our pet, he felt like mine. I was the one who found him as a puppy, abandoned under a bridge near the canal. We figured his siblings had probably been drowned, but somehow, Tyson had escaped and survived. He was a fighter, just like we were. That’s why we called him Tyson. And like us, he’d been left to fend for himself. So, I took him, trained him, nurtured him, and now, he was the most loyal and trustworthy friend I had, next to my brothers of course.
“He can come to my room tonight,” I said, scratching his head again as we walked into the main club area. “You’re gonna come and guard the top floor with me, aren’t you, Ty?” Devon smirked and passed the lead over to me.
“I’ll leave him with you then,” he shouted over the noise of the music. “I have some… business to take care of.”
I didn’t bother asking Devon what his business was. One, it probably involved a woman, and two, it was none of my fucking business anyway what he got up to. I really didn’t want to know.
I led Tyson through the crowds of people that were packed into our dance area. Some girls went to touch him as we walked past, putting their hands down to skim his head and coo over what they thought was a sweet dog being led through a club. But one glare from me and then a look at Tyson with his fangs snarling at them and they soon changed their minds. Tyson wasn’t a dog you messed about with, much like his owners. He didn’t trust strangers and he wouldn’t let just anyone pet him.
When we got to the main stairs, Tyson bounded on ahead, yanking on the leash, eager to get to where he wanted to go. I saw Gaz loitering around the top of the stairs, and he gave me a nod in recognition.
“It’s a wild one tonight.” He chuckled over the music, and the glint in his eyes told me he probably wanted to clock off and join in. But I just shrugged. I couldn’t give a fuck whether it was wild or whether there were a bevy of nuns sat round drinking tea and doing crochet, as long as the money kept rolling in.