SWNOVELS When He Desires: Chapter 5
Seven oh five a.m., Sunday morning.
I’m supposed to be asleep. Instead, I’m squinting at my phone and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. It sounds like someone kidnapped me in the middle of the night and dropped me off at a heavy metal concert.
The fuck? Who’s blasting that shit this early?
Then I remember my conversation last night with Blake.
It must be the neighbor across the street she mentioned. She wasn’t exaggerating about him being loud.
Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me.
I throw the blanket off, get to my feet, and grab my T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
Last night, I slept on a mattress on the floor in the living room because the master bedroom needs to be deep cleaned and repainted before it’s fit to be used. I’m not even going to bother with the upstairs until I get the first floor in order. The kitchen cabinetry needs replacing, along with the windows and the doors. The bathrooms are a nightmare. Everything needs a fresh coat of paint, but at least the hardwood floors don’t look too bad.
I was up late cataloguing everything I need to do and all the materials I need to get from the store today, so I was really fucking looking forward to sleeping in this morning.
Instead, there’s already a headache building behind my eyes. This is criminal, and not in a good way.
I step outside. The racket’s coming from house number two. The building looks in better shape than mine, but not by much.
I march across the street and pound on the door.
A movement inside the house next door catches my eye. The curtain in the window moves, and an old female face topped off with a pink bonnet peeks out at me.
If it’s loud for me, it must be fucking deafening for her. Imagine reaching retirement age, wanting to live a nice, quiet life, and some neighbor from hell moves in.
My anger burns.
I wave at the granny, and she gives me a sad smile before disappearing behind the curtain.
This fuckery ends now.
I bang on the door again and again, not letting up until the lock turns and a man appears.
The smell of stale beer wafting off him brings me right back to when I used to knock on similar doors back in New York.
Different state, same fucking humans.
The man peers at me from behind suspicious, watery eyes. “Who’re you?”
I smile. “I live across the street. Moved in last night. Name’s Rowan.”
He sniffs. “What do you want?”
“Came to introduce myself. What’s your name?”
“Elijah— Hey! I didn’t invite you in!”
I shove him forward and slam the door behind me. Slide the chain on for good measure too.
“Get out, or I’m calling the cops,” Elijah says, but there’s a healthy dose of fear in his eyes. I’m a head taller and in far better shape than he is. I could kill him in three seconds.
But I’m not supposed to do things like that anymore, so I’ve got to get creative.
“Sit down,” I command.
When he just sputters in response, I grab him by his wifebeater and throw him into the closest chair. It creaks under his weight.
The stereo’s right here in the living room, two huge speakers, the kind you’d see at a fucking concert. That sound system is likely the most expensive thing in the house.
I walk over to it and turn the music down.
“Elijah, do you have a clock in here?”
He blinks at me, looking simultaneously confused, afraid, and pissed off. “Up on the wall.”
Yep, there it is, hanging above the stereo, showing the right time. “So you’re aware it’s just past seven a.m.”
“Yes. What are—”
“Just shut the fuck up for a second and focus on answering my questions,” I say to him. “Why are you playing this shit this early?”
He crosses his arms over his chest, his lips curled into a sneer. “I work nights. When I get home, I like to unwind. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Oh boy. So he’s not a lunatic, like I’ve been suspecting. He just thinks the world revolves around his needs. “I heard people have already asked you to keep it down.”
His sneer turns uglier. “What I do on my own property is my own business.”
“Not if your business interferes with my business.”
There’s a set of noise-cancelling headphones sitting on top of one of the speakers. They look high quality, but they’re clearly not getting any use.
A rush goes through me. That familiar feeling of being up to no good and knowing I’m going to get away with it.
I scan the dirty living room for something I can use. A roll of duct tape on the coffee table catches my eye.
“Go fuck yourself,” he snarls. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
I grab the tape.
His eyes flash with worry. He starts trying to get up from the chair. “What are you doing?”
I shove him back down. “Let’s go over this again. You like to listen to your music as loudly as you want as early in the day as you want. Yeah?”
He gives a hesitant nod. “That’s right.”
“Understood. I respect that.” I reach for the volume dial on the stereo and turn it back up. Someone’s screaming like they’re being murdered.
The tape releases from the roll with a crackle. Elijah attempts to rise again, but he’s bloated and slow. I punch him in the throat, and while he sputters, I wind the tape around him a few times.
The music drowns out his shouts. I work fast, securing his torso to the chair before I do the same to his legs and arms. All the while, he’s kicking at me. It’s easy to avoid his hits, but they’re still annoying as fuck. If he stopped fighting, maybe I’d use less tape.
When I’m finished, I take a long look at my handiwork.
Not bad.
I crack my knuckles, a smirk on my face. I’ve still got it.
“I’ll check back in on you after I get home from work,” I shout over the music. “Hopefully, your ears aren’t bleeding by then.”
“What?! What the fuck! Heya, what do you—“
I slap a piece of tape over his mouth. “That’s better.”
He blinks at me with wide, terrified eyes, and God if it ain’t sweet. My body buzzes. I’ve missed this.
I turn to the stereo, plug in the headphones, and jack the volume all the way up. It’s so loud, they vibrate in my hand. Grinning darkly at Elijah, I put the headphones over his head. His eyes bulge. He makes a muffled screaming sound against the tape and squirms against the restraints.
I squat down in front of him and mouth, “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
He shakes his head, tears leaking out of his panicked eyes.
I give him a thumbs-up. “You got this. I won’t be too long.” Just long enough for him to sustain some moderate hearing damage.
Ignoring his protests, I walk out of the house and let the door slam shut behind me.
The old lady next door is back at the window. She hesitates and then smiles.
I give her a wink.
If Elijah tries to go to the cops after I free him, he sure as fuck won’t find any cooperative witnesses. It’ll be his word against mine, and I know how to be convincing.
Maybe this is exactly what I need to do to survive in this place.
Let myself have some innocent fun here and there.
I’m halfway across the street when I spot Blake standing on her porch, staring at me. She’s in a pair of jeans and a tight beige T-shirt that’s snug around her chest. Her tits look fucking perfect. Does she know how cute she is?
There’s a mug in her hands. Another one sits on top of the wooden balustrade. I wonder who she’s expecting. Bit early for guests.
When I get closer to her, I give her a wave. “Top of the mornin’.”
She takes a sip out of her mug and nods in the direction of Elijah’s house. “How did you manage that?”
I grin. “I asked nicely. You should try that sometime.”
The scowl that appears on her face is priceless. I kind of get off on how she glares at me like I’m a piece of chewed-up gum on the bottom of her shoe.
“Yeah, right. You’re really telling me you just asked him to turn it down, and he listened?”
I stop at the foot of my porch. “Sure did. I know this might come as a surprise, but I tend to get along with most people.”
“That’s because most people are hopelessly swayed by appearances.”
My grin widens. “That’s an interesting statement. What exactly are you saying about my appearance?”
Pink spots bloom across her cheeks. “The other day I picked up this book because the cover was eye-catching. It stood out on the shelves. You couldn’t miss it, you know?”
I place my hands on my hips. “Uh-huh.” Where is she going with this?
“But when I got home and started reading it, the story sucked. Behind that pretty cover, there was no substance.”
Oh.
She gives me a thin smile. “In my experience, people are often like that too.”
Irritation fans through me. “What can you possibly know about my substance when we’ve barely spoken to each other?”
She stands up straighter and takes another sip of her drink. “It’s a small town, Rowan. I know enough.” And then she spins on her heel and goes inside her house, leaving the extra mug on the balustrade.