𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞

Chapter Fourteen

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It happened one night after her shift; she was walking to the bus stop, a backpack on her back and a sling bag across her shoulder with a long sling it kept hitting her thighs. Sighing out loud, Imani stood to adjust it just before she could reach the bus stop; her steady hands trembled when a car slowed down and then stopped a little in front of her. She had heard stories of girls like her being kidnapped, raped, murdered and their mutilated bodies discovered somewhere in the woods by hikers or hunters.

She could feel her heart thumping uncontrollably; her legs couldn't move as she stood rooted in place, watching a big man uncoil himself from the driver's seat. He stood watching her for a breath of second before banging the door and turning towards her. She couldn't speak, and she was sure she'd stopped breathing.

"Miss Imani," the man called, stepping off the door of the car. She didn't know how he knew her, and another story resurfaced on her mind of a client who'd been obsessed with one of the girls. It became so dangerous for her to venture outside she eventually quit and moved out of the state, but the terrifying part was he found out her new address, and one day he knocked on her door with a deranged smile on his face and started talking as if they were dating.

It was crazy, messy, and petrifying. Imani thought,  looking like a scared rabbit, her trembling hands damp as he stared at the man. She had never seen him before, at least not that she could remember, "someone wants to talk to you," Imani shook her head, she couldn't find her voice, but her body could still move at her command. 

"It won't take much of your time, " the man insisted, but Imani took a step back, wanting to turn and run.

"Don't be afraid, it's Mr Ocean." she almost exhaled loudly with relief, but a couple of seconds later, she was furious.

Where does he get the nerve to corner her like this? Scare her half to death to get what he wanted.

"I'm sorry, I can't," Imani said, starting to walk past him; then she remembered she had seen him once, outside the door when she'd argued with Matthew.

"He says to tell you if you don't, he's going to break that promise he made you." Imani turned abruptly, brows raised in a line of confusion, "he has never made me any promises," she stated, turning again, but then his next words stopped her in her tracks. "Have you investigated,"

Imani swore under her breath. She rarely swore because of Jamie, but Matthew made her want to bury him in a string of curse words. She smiled tightly as Pete opened the back door for her to be embraced by a rush of warm air, the smell of leather, whiskey, and his cologne—wood and a hint of citrus mixed with other scents she couldn't identify, but her heart jolted with recognition.

"What do you want?" she asked harshly, keeping her body pressed near the door to make sure none of her parts touched any of his.

He grinned mischievously; a gleam of humour flicked in those dark eyes. "That is no way to great a friend."

"You're no friend of mine,"

"More than a friend, then?" his mocking tone pissed her so much she felt like knocking the smirk off his face. He saw it, and he chuckled like he was having fun at her expense.

"Is this fun for you?" she asked in a venerable voice that had Matthew sober up. He didn't want to make her feel helpless, but seeing her again had thrown him off his balance, something he tried to hide from her.

"Not really," he mumbled, shamelessly staring at her as if she were exotic, unfamiliar, or strange.

"You promised that you will never have me investigated," she spoke in a whisper even though no one else was in the car but them.