What Goes Bump In The Night (Book One).✔

| 1999 Indian Chief |

I watched the time began to tick by slowly. The constant ticking of the clock was surely driving me mad. Angrily, I flipped off the back room switches and made sure the grills and stoves were shut off properly.

The front door bells jingled, alerting me that the gentleman who was here had gone. Good. He was no help anyway. I picked up my things and walked to the front dining area. Pulling my phone from my apron, I re-read an earlier text message:

'Sorry babe, I got caught up. Txt me later?'

Stupidly, I actually believed Joshua would not stand me up tonight. The night I would need him the most, he finds a way to screw me over.

Exhausted, irritated, and tired, I pulled my car keys and my tazer from my purse, closed up and walked to my car.

The moon was full and bright, surrounded by the clear sky and bright stars. The wind howled, blowing against my skin, sending a cool chill up my legs. Gripping my sweater, I tightened it around my body to keep warm on this cool night.

Again, I was swarmed with this uneasy feeling of being observed. Maybe it's just paranoia. My car keys in one hand and my tasor in the other, I paced to my vehicle.

I opened the door and sat in, releasing a sigh of relief that I made it to my vehicle safe and sound. I put my keys in the ignition. Turning the key, I was left with a heart dropping sound. I listened to my car cough out. Again, I turned the key but was left with the disturbing sound of my car leaving me high and dry.

"You have to be FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" I yelled out.

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and scanned through my contacts. Who can I call? Dan? Blair? Joshua? God, I knew I should have gotten AAA.

It felt like my heart skipped. I looked up to see someone knocking on the hood of my car. A man. My brown eyes connected with his hazel ones. Shaken in fear, I slowly reached for my tasor and switched it on for my safety.

Our eyes connected for what seemed like forever before he seemed to have grown bored and looked away. He tapped the front hood of my car, directing me to pop the hood for him. With my guard still up, I popped the hood of my car....

I stared up at the ceiling of my car, humming some tunes as I listened to the man, unsure of his name, check under the hood for the reason that I'm still sitting here.

The hood slammed shut. I jumped up, my finger on the button of my tasor. He cleaned his stained hands on his black jeans and walked over to my driver side window. He tapped on the glass with his fingers. I rolled down the window. He looked down at my hand and frowned when he saw the black device in my grasp. I felt my heart racing. As if he could sense my discomfort, he finally spoke.

"Turn the key."

High hopes and anticipation, I turned the key to start my car. Disappointed once again, I groaned in annoyance when my car refused to start.

"Starter."

"Huh?"

"Sounds like your starter went." He explained.

"SHIT!" I snapped.

"Can someone get you?" He asked.

Frowning childishly as I stared out of the front windshield, I began to think of all of the people who probably could not get me. All of them.

"No." I whispered.

"Do you need a ride?"

Don't accept rides from strangers. I could hear my grandmother's voice yelling that into my ear. Stranger danger was what my sister would yell into my other ear. I looked at the time on my radio screen. 2:45am. I had class in less than six hours and who knows how long it would take a tow truck to get here.

I looked at him. He stared at me back. Regretting the decision I was making, I grabbed my purse and phone, and stepped out and onto the dirt road. I closed the door, sighing and sending him death glares to warn him not to make any insane decision or else I was going to shove this tasor up his ass. Mentally getting memories of every physically detail of him, I examined his facial features carefully. Black hair, chiseled face, rough and scruffy beard, early or mid-thirties, cute with a built body.

"Your vehicle?" I questioned.

He pointed to an old motorcycle sitting in the far lot.

"That?" I questioned.

"That...or you wait for a tow truck. Or walk." He left me and walked over to bike and sat on it. He cranked it up. Surprised the old thing started, I tossed my things in to my bag, tossed my leg over the seat, and sat down.

Stranger danger. I gripped his T-shirt and prepared for the ride.

"Do you want to hold on better than that?"

"Nope." My fingers locked onto the thin material.

"Okay." Seemed to be the last word I had received from him before he pulled off. I felt myself jerk back and the material under my fingers slip from my grasps as I began to fall back.

Almost certain that I was going to fall off of this death trap; my arm was grabbed and forced back up.

"I told you to hold on." His voice was deep with a lace of warning in it.

The cool wind ripped threw my hair and stung my face. The cold air felt like pins puncturing my face and exposed legs. I shielded my face behind his back. He smells pretty decent for a creep. My arms were latched around his waist as I held on for my life.

"What kind of bike is this?" I yelled over the loud humming of the bike, hoping small conversation would distract him from becoming a murderer.

"1999 Indian Chief." His head turned slightly, his eyes sneaking a glance at me.

"Cool, cool." I had no knowledge of bikes or cars. The most I could tell you was three different car manufactures.

I anxiously watched the green sign that read 'Manor road' as we neared my home.

"There." I pointed to the old looking house with the red door and matching red shutters.

He pulled into the driveway and cut the engine to his motorcycle. I stepped off, pulling my keys from my purse.

"Thank you."

"Sure." He cranked up his bike again. "You might want to have a starter put in."

"Yes of course. Thanks."

He pulled off, disappearing out of sight and the sound of his bike dimmed down to silence once he was gone.

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