Page 92 of Twisted Enemy
I don’t want my first time to be in Da’s house
That’s where we’ll be living
I know! But with Da sick… And Mam just down the hall…
What are you asking?
…
…
I want my first time to be special
The playground at Patterson Park
You want to fuck in public
I’m so embarrassed
But it’s practically where we met
I think I loved you even then
You’re a sick little megera
You think you’ll just walk out the front door of your parents’ house?
I’m a ninja
I’ll sneak out the basement door
Kate taught me how
Please please please
I’ll wear my wedding dress
Fine
Tonight
Midnight at Patterson Park
The easy part of the conversation was spoofing Breagha’s phone, making it look like all those texts came from my sister. The hard part was adding the emojis. I had to read back over months of messages to guess which ones Breagha would use to seduce the man she was about to marry.
I settle my mobile back in my lap, rearranging my skirts so I have easy access to the polymer grip I’ll need when Tarasov arrives. This wedding dress looks like it’s made out of candy floss, with more frills and lace than the gaudiest Disney princess ever imagined. A heavy veil shields my face, but I tore off the train so I can move more easily. I’m wearing trainers underneath, in case everything winds up banjaxed and I need to run.
My fingers itch to check my phone again, but I don’t let them. I want to look over my shoulder, to study the trees on the edge of the playground, but I don’t do that either. I can’t risk giving away Cole’s location.
A light breeze teases at the edge of my veil. I grit my teeth to keep from ripping it off my head.
I catch a glimpse of a dark shape, moving to my left. My heart starts to pound faster because I was right. I knew my enemy. I understood exactly how Tarasov would approach.
I wait for him to cross from the edge of the playground, pulling myself a few feet to the right. The merry-go-round squeaks.
From the corner of my eye I see him flex his fingers, like a man tearing apart a roast chicken. I pull myself a few feet to the left. The merry-go-round squeaks.
He closes the distance between us, moving faster than a man his size should manage. A few feet right. The merry-go-round squeaks.
