Forever (Betrothed 7)

The passenger door opened, and she sprinted away. Her heels were gone because she must’ve slipped them off when I walked behind the truck to get to my side, so now her bare feet slapped against the pavement with the speed of an Olympic runner.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Twenty

Catalina

Drenched in sweat, I ran all the way to my apartment without stopping. My purse had fallen to the ground at some point in the battle, so I didn’t have my keys to drive my car or my phone to call the cops. So, I had to use my landline, even though no one in this day and age had a fucking landline. Luckily, my apartment door had a keypad lock.

I paced my apartment, bloodstains on my favorite dress, and I spoke to the police about the nightmare I’d just experienced. “This fucking asshole snuck up behind me on my way to my car. I tried to fight him off, but he got my knife and choked me out.”

The officer stayed calm over the line. “Can you describe the man?”

“Yes. He looked like a fucking asshole.”

The officer didn’t find that humorous at all. “You can’t file a report without a description, miss.”

I spat out the words, rapid-fire. “He was tall—like six-three, six-four—Caucasian, covered in black tattoos, blue eyes. Did I mention he’s an asshole?”

He ignored my comment. “Anything else?”

“I thought he was just trying to rob me at first, but he was trying to take me. He might be a trafficker or a rapist, so we have to get this motherfucker. Life behind bars. Death by firing squad. Whatever. Guy has got to pay.”

In a bored voice, he said, “We’ll do everything we can, ma’am.”

“Uh, I’m twenty-five. I prefer miss.” Was going to hold on to my youth as long as I could.

“Do you have any other information that could help us?”

“Yeah. I memorized his license plate when he carried me to the car.” I read out the letters and numbers and used my abnormally strong memorization skills. That was something that would make it so easy for the police to catch this guy. Looking up his plates in their database would lead them right to his address, and they would put cuffs on that jackass. I moved back and forth between my two couches, one hand on my hip with blood still splattered up and down both arms.

The officer typed in the information then turned quiet for a bit. “His plates aren’t popping up…”

“You must’ve typed it in wrong.”

“Or you’re just wrong,” he said coldly.

“Sir,” I said condescendingly, “I have a photographic memory. I’m not wrong.”

He sighed into the phone. “Well, it’s not here. If we need anything else, I’ll let you know—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I continue to pace, blood still on my arms because I hadn’t even had a chance to wash up. I somehow fought off a guy three times my size, and I wasn’t gonna let him get away with this. If the police didn’t handle it, which was their job, I would take matters into my own hands. I’d kill him myself or ask my brother for a favor. No way in hell was I letting that piece of shit go free so he could do this to someone else. “The plates are right. You better check again and again because the information is solid.”

He still had the same bitter attitude. “I said we’ll do everything we can…”

I stopped in the center of the living room when I heard the knob turn in the front door. After a couple wiggles, the locked door was pushed free. “Who the hell are you?” Was someone breaking in to my apartment? Or was one of my lovers trying to surprise me? The chain on the top of the door was intact, so they couldn’t get it open farther than a few inches.

“Ma’am, is everything okay?”

“It’s miss, alright?” I said through clenched teeth. “And I think someone might be breaking in to my apartment.”

Bolt cutters appeared, and the chain was snapped in one clean break. Then the door was pushed open to reveal the man who had just assaulted me fifteen minutes ago.

Now I was fucking scared. “He’s here! He’s in my apartment right now!” I crept backward and looked for a weapon to put this asshole in the ground. “He’s going to do something. Send someone right away.”

The officer never said anything because the line went dead.

I pulled the phone back and glanced at the keypad as the speaker beeped. “Did he just hang up on me?”

The asshole kicked the door shut behind him, and he looked even more threatening now than he had earlier. His hands were in tight fists, and he was still covered in blood. His arm was wrapped in gauze he must’ve had stored in his truck. “The police won’t help you.” He started to move toward me.