Chapter 2

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, when he heard the coughing and grinding of the gears of the school bus approaching down the street. He watched intently as the girl's face relaxed in relief. It seemed to include more than just the arrival of the bus, but of escape, perhaps even freedom. At last the bus arrived, in perfect tandem as the sun finally rose in full force. The girl looked up with a frown, but stayed, letting the light touch her face before disappearing inside.

A week later, Alan was sitting in his usual spot, waiting for the girl. The bus had come and gone, but the girl wasn't on board, so he'd thought he'd wait to see if she showed up.

He was about to leave when he saw her turn the corner at a run toward the bus stop. She came in out of breath, almost frantic. It was emotional. Again he wondered why she was so desperate to get to school.

Alan watched the girl through the car window. She was pacing back and forth now, perhaps realizing that she had missed the bus. It seemed unfair that last week the girl had waited almost an hour for the bus to arrive and this week the driver had waited for nothing. No girl, no stop. She wondered if she would wait another hour, just to make sure there was no hope. He shook his head. Such actions would only reveal his desperate nature. He hoped she would wait and hope not.

Her fractured thoughts gave him pause. He should not hope. She had orders, her own agendas. Simple. Simple. Clear. Morality had no place when it came to revenge.

Morality was for descendants, and he was as far from descendants as a person could be. Alan did not believe in the existence of any higher being or an afterlife, although he knew a lot about religion having grown up in a religious family. But if there was an afterlife in which a person reaped what he had sown on earth, then he was already doomed. He would go to hell happily - after Rikko was dead.

Besides, if God or gods existed, none of them knew Alan did, or else they hadn't given a shit when it mattered. No one had cared about him, no one except Memphis. And in the absence of an afterlife to punish everything, Alan had to make sure that Rikko Crusstrovich paid for his sins right here on Earth.

Twenty minutes later, the girl burst into tears, right there on the sidewalk in front of him. Alan could not look away. Tears had always been disconcerting to him. He liked to look at them, to taste them. Truth be told, they were hard on him. He used to abhor this conditioned response, but he had long since outgrown self-loathing. These responses, these reactions, were part of him, for better or worse. Mostly for bad, he admitted with a smile and adjusted his erection.

What was it about these displays of emotion that would dig into his gut without letting go? Pure lust coursed through him like a strong ache that brought with it a strong desire to possess her, to have power over her tears. Every day he thought of her more as a slave than an enigma. Though she held a seductive kind of mystery locked in downcast eyes.

His mind filled with images of her sweetly innocent face flooded with tears as he held her on his knee. She could almost feel the softness of her bare bottom under his hand, the security of his weight pressed against his erection as he spanked her.

The fantasy was short-lived.

Suddenly, a car pulled up in front of the girl. Shit. She moaned as she pushed the images away. She could hardly believe what was happening. Some asshole was trying to get close to his prey.

He watched as the girl shook her head, declining the driver's invitation to get into his car. It didn't seem it didn't look like the guy was listening. She was walking away from the stop, but he was following her in his car.

There was only one thing to do.

Alan walked out to the corner, fairly certain that the girl hadn't realized how long her car had been parked. At the moment, she seemed too terrified to notice anything but the sidewalk in front of her. She walked very quickly, her backpack in front of her, like a shield. She crossed the street and walked slowly in his direction. He strode across the scene nonchalantly, as he moved directly in front of her, their paths poised for a head-on collision.

It all happened very quickly, unexpectedly. Before he had a chance to execute a simple strategy to eliminate the external threat, she suddenly threw herself into his arms, the backpack clattering on the concrete. He looked at the car, the shadow and incongruous shape of a man. Another predator.

"Oh my God," she whispered into the cotton of his T-shirt. "Humor me, okay?" Her arms were steel around his ribcage, her voice, a frantic plea.

Alan was stunned for a moment. What an interesting turn of events. Was he the hero of this scenario? He almost smiled.

"I see it," he said, catching the other hunter's gaze. Stupid, he was still sitting there, looking confused. Alan hugged the girl as if he knew her. He supposed he knew her in a way. On a playful impulse, he ran his hands down the sides of her body. She tensed, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Finally, the car and the competition drove away in a cloud of smog and screeching tires. No longer needing his protection, the girl's arms quickly released him.

"I'm sorry," she said hastily, "but that guy wouldn't leave me alone." She looked relieved, but still shocked by the incident.

Alan looked into her eyes, this time closely. They were as dark, seductive and carefree as he had imagined. He felt like grabbing her, like taking her to some secret place where he could explore the depths of those eyes and unveil the mystery they held. But not now, it wasn't the time or the place.

"This is L.A.; danger, intrigue, and movie stars - isn't that what it says under the Hollywood sign?" He said, trying to lighten the mood.

Confused, the girl shook her head. Apparently, she wasn't ready for humor yet. But as she bent down to pick up her backpack, she said, "Um.... actually, I think it's... 'That's so LA,' but it's not under the Hollywood sign. There's nothing under the Hollywood sign."

''You don't have to lecture me. I'm from here, too.''

Alan stifled a broad grin. He wasn't trying to be funny. It was more like he was looking for comfortable ground. "Should I call the police?" he communicated with mock concern.

Now that the girl was feeling more confident, she seemed to really notice him, an unfortunate moment, but completely unavoidable. "Um..." Her eyes darted back and forth from his eyes, pausing on his mouth a little too long before they strayed to her slinking feet. "I don't think that's necessary. They won't do anything anyway, there are bugs like that all over the place here. Besides," she added in embarrassment, "I didn't even take your plate."

She looked at him again, her eyes roaming over his face before biting her lower lip and lowering her gaze to the floor. Alan tried to keep the worried expression when all he wanted to do was smile. So, he thought, the girl found him attractive.

He supposed most women did, even if they realized later, or too late, what that attraction really meant. Still, these kinds of naive, almost innocent reactions always amused him. He watched her, and chose to look at the ground as she moved from side to side.

As she stood there, blissfully unaware that her shy, submissive behavior was sealing her fate, Alan wanted to kiss her.

He had to get out of that situation.

"You're probably right," he sighed, sketching an empathetic smile, "the police wouldn't be worth shit."

She nodded slightly, still shifting from foot to foot nervously, even shy now. "Hey, could you-"

"I guess I should-" This time he allowed his smile to take over her face.

"Sorry, you first," she whispered as her face flushed beautifully. Her performance as a cute, shy girl was intoxicating. It was as if a sign hung around her neck that read, "I promise I'll do anything you tell me to."

She really should go. Right now. But this was too much fun. He looked up and down the street. People would be coming soon, but not yet.

"No, please, you were saying?" He looked at her jet black hair as she fiddled incessantly with it between her fingers. It was long, wavy and framed her face. The ends curled over the mound of her breasts. Breasts that would fill her palms. He put an end to his thoughts before her body responded.

She looked up at him. With the sun on her face, she squinted as she looked into his eyes. "Oh... um... I know this is weird, considering what just happened... but, I missed my bus and," nervously she tried to get the words out in a hurry, "you seem like a nice guy. I have some papers due today and I was wondering if you could give me a ride to school."

His smile was nothing short of nefarious. And his so big I could see all his pretty white teeth. "To school? How old are you?" She blushed a deeper shade of pink.

"Eighteen. I'm a senior, you know, graduating this summer." He smiled at her. The sun was still beating down on his face and he squinted every time he looked into her eyes. "Why?"

"No reason," he lied and played on the naivety of her youth, "you just look older, that's all." Another big smile, even whiter and prettier teeth.

It was time to put an end to this.

"Listen, I'd love to give you a ride, but I'm meeting a friend down the street. We usually carpool and she gets to deal with the traffic on 302." He consulted his watch. "And I'm already late." Inwardly, he felt a surge of satisfaction as her face crumpled. At the word no, at the word she. Not getting what you wanted was always the first lesson.

"Yeah, no, sure, I get it." She coolly recovered, but still blushed. She shrugged and looked away from him. "I'll ask my mom to take me. It's okay." Before he could offer his condolences, she stepped around him and put on her headphones. "Thanks for helping me with that guy. See you."

As she hurried away, he could hear the music blaring in his ear. He wondered if it would be loud enough to drown out his embarrassment.

"See ya," she whispered.

He waited until she rounded the corner to return to the car and got behind the wheel as he flipped open his cell phone. He would have to make arrangements for his new arrival.