Her Billionaire, Her Wolf(19)

“What I know is that you are being actively searched for, Sara. A simple phone call and...how do they say it? The jig is up."

This time he laughed out loud, all pretext of being quiet for the sleeping woman’s sake gone.

“You are the ideal candidate, Sara, because you reek of desperation. You know it. I know it. In fact, I can taste it from here...it's so sweet...like candy to me," he said, his voice trailing off before resuming.

“Now pay attention. Under the woman’s hands is a contract. Take it, read it if you must, then sign it. That is not a suggestion, Sara...that is a command.

"In summary, it states that you will go to the address listed on the last page of the document and present yourself to the department manager. She will assign you whatever work it is that you do.

"That is your first job.

"The second is of far greater importance. Each work day, during your lunch break, you will go to the restaurant mentioned on that last page. You will take your lunch in the immediate proximity of the restaurant’s bar. You will do so each and every day without fail.

"Sooner or later, there will be someone who will approach you. You will allow him. Further, as the situation develops, you will do whatever he asks of you, Sara. You will acquiesce to his every desire, without question.

"Do this and your financial security and continued freedom from the likes of Deputy Woodard are assured. Renege in the slightest of ways, and you and I shall come face to face.

"I promise you, you wouldn’t like that, Sara. Oh no...not one bit.

Her hand shaking, Sara reached for the paper under the woman’s hands. She tugged on one corner, but it would not slide away. With no choice, she gently took the woman’s wrist...

She’s freezing....

...and lifted it up so that she could slide the paper out.

The words were written jaggedly, in longhand, obviously hurried.

No...it was written by someone in a panic.

Sara looked down again at the woman, trying to see if she still breathed.

"Sign it, Sara. Right now."

She scanned the ragged lines seeing essentially what he had already described. Then, with a sensation of quicksand around her feet, Sara scribbled her name on the dotted line.

Better this, than going back to that son of a bitch. Anything would be better than that.

"That's the spirit, my girl." The voice seemed positively cheerful.

"Now tear off the page with the addresses. You are going to need that. Then, in the woman's purse, you will find a wallet with some cash.

"Open it and tell me how much you find there."

Sara did it, her trembling fingers fumbling for a moment.

"There's, uh...there's almost three hundred dollars."

"Oh, what luck, Sara," he said, and suddenly she could not help but think that although they had been holding a conversation, a very strange conversation, that the most unusual thing of all was that the silhouette behind the dressing screen never moved.

It was as though the voice was as disembodied as that of a ghost.

She held the wallet in her hands and realized that her entire body was trembling.

"Take the money. I will be sure to square up with my associate in short order."

Sara hesitated, her knees quite literally knocking together.

"Take it, I say. You will be in need of professional attire for the coming Monday. Consider it an advance payment for the work you will carry out for me."

Shadows fluttered in the corner of Sara's vision. She turned and there, upon the iron balustrade outside, large birds had gathered in silence, watching her through the glass.

The balcony was blotted out by shapes as dark as the night. They were lined up, shoulder to shoulder, and followed her every movement in horrible silence.

Crows. Maybe a hundred pairs of black eyes that tracked Sara as she turned to speak.

"I don't think I should. In fact, maybe this is all just a big mistake," Sara started to put the cash back into the poor woman's wallet.

“So disappointing, this sudden concern for a stranger, Sara. That’s not like you. Not when you have so much to gain and so much to lose.”

Then, just when she was sure that there really was no one behind the dressing screen, she heard a chair slide, squealing like a mouse trodden underfoot.

“I hadn’t planned on it, but it seems you need further convincing. And for that, I am sorry, Sara. Really, I am.”

The silhouette got jerkily to its feet. Like an enormous string puppet, the shadow shambled forward.

Sara backed away and without wanting to, she saw the crows shifting excitedly upon their perch, as if the spectacle they had come to see was about to begin.

A hand wrapped fingers around the edge of the dressing screen. A white hand with fingers far too long to be real.