Vigilante

  Detective Davies released me and turned to the class. “All these things are effective. Now, Hadley, put your arm around my neck and I’ll show you some other things.”

  By the time she was done with me, I’d been elbowed in the gut, had my eyes gouged, my nose gouged, my toes broken, my knee dislocated and had been kicked in my hypothetical balls. And the girls were all laughing.

  “Do not stop at that first attack,” the older woman instructed. “Once you get an opening, you exploit it until you’ve rendered your attacker incapacitated. I don’t care if it’s gross—and you won’t, either—go for the eyes and go for the nose. When his eyes are watering, you kick them in the junk. You do whatever you need to do to get free. You scratch, you pull hair. If you have to, bite, but that’s a last resource. Step on toes, kick knees, kick him in the stomach. Hit them with your purse. Hell, hit him with your shoe. Put him down, get out of there and call 911. Now, let’s partner up and practice.”

  The girls jumped to their feet and quickly found partners. The odd number left me partnered with Detective Davies again. We practiced a few of the things that I hadn’t thought to do when she was my attacker.

  “Were you at Jason Bentley’s party?” she asked me.

  I nodded, taking the hand she offered to help me to my feet after she knocked me on my butt. “Yeah. I saw the picture that got uploaded.”

  Her face was serious, her eyes seeming to look right through me. “Do you know who took it?”

  “No.” The lie rolled easily off my tongue. “I’m glad they did it, though.”

  She smiled the tiniest bit. “I bet. Any idea where he got that photo of Magda? It looked like she posed for it.”

  My spine stiffened. “If you think he took it, you’re wrong. It was her brother Gabe. She never would have smiled like that for Jason.”

  “Was Gabriel at the party?”

  Shit. Did she suspect Gabe? “No. He knew it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  The detective nodded. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t be. If you hear anything, will you let me know? Even if it seems like nothing?”

  I considered my answer for a moment. “Detective, you seem really awesome, but if you think I’d turn in the one person who seems to care about what happened to Magda, you’re mental. Even if I knew who it was, I wouldn’t say a word.”

  “You probably shouldn’t tell me that,” she reminded dryly.

  I shrugged. “I try to be honest.”

  “Let’s just forget I asked.”

  I shrugged agan. “Fine by me.” Then she had me come around the class with her and see how the other girls were doing.

  If I decided to get a little revenge on Brody, I was going to have to be very careful to make sure suspicion didn’t fall on Gabriel. I would never forgive myself if he got blamed for my actions. And I wanted Brody—and his buddies—to know that the person coming after them wasn’t a guy, but a girl.

  A girl in a pink ski mask who was going to make sure they paid for what they’d done to Magda Torres.

  CHAPTER 9

  That Friday was when I officially became a stalker. I had a couple of classes with Brody, and I eavesdropped on his conversations. It turned out that he and Drew, and Adam and Jason, liked to go out drinking on Friday nights. They went to a small bar a couple of towns over that was popular with college students. Apparently they had some pretty good fake IDs to back them up.

  Obviously, even if I could get into a bar, I wasn’t going to go to one where my best friend’s rapists liked to hang out. I didn’t have a fake ID, and to be honest, getting drunk held no appeal to me. I was terrified of it, of the control I would lose. It was too easy to be a victim when you were drunk, and I wasn’t going to be a victim.

  I told my mother I was going out with Zoe, Anna and Caitlin. The three of them had invited me to go out with them. They were just going to hang out at a coffee shop or something. I told them I’d meet up with them later if I could.

  At 11:45 that night, I was sitting in my mom’s car one parking lot over from the bar. I’d chosen that lot because it didn’t have any cameras. However, it had a very good view of the bar’s entrance.

  I had a moment, while peeing behind a Dumpster, when I wondered, What the hell am I doing? I was intentionally lying in wait for someone. What was I going to do? Brody was going to come out of that bar with his buddies. I couldn’t take on all four of them. I could only hope that he left last, or that he wouldn’t notice if I followed him home. That wasn’t really an option. It was always a bad idea to fight someone on their own turf.

  That aside, I didn’t know what I was going to do to him once I had him. Beating him up would feel awesome, but would it avenge Magda, would it change him in any way? Would he regret what he’d done? Would he pay?

  I’d heard that Jason was embarrassed about the photo, and that he’d become a little withdrawn this past week. The fact that someone had sneaked into his room and done that to him without him knowing freaked him out. Good. Maybe he’d think about how Magda had felt. I liked knowing he felt vulnerable.

  Now, to repeat the process with his friends.

  It was just a couple of minutes before midnight when I saw the four of them come out of the bar. Brody barely made it to the bottom of the steps before he doubled over and puked in a bush. I could hear the others laughing from where I sat with my window down.

  Jason was the only one to approach Brody in what looked like a helpful way—like he was going to try to help him walk. Brody waved him off. Jason rejoined the other two, and they staggered toward a little red car I recognized as Drew’s. They were all drunk.

  Now what the hell did I do? I couldn’t just let them drive off, could I? What if they hurt someone? I drew a deep breath. Getting mad because stupid drunks were going to interfere with my plans for revenge was a little mental. There was a line—a moral line—I couldn’t cross. Maybe it was cliché, but even though I wanted them to pay, I wasn’t willing to allow myself to become like them.

  I could have sexually humiliated Jason the week before. He’d been passed out. I could’ve stuck something in his butt. I could’ve left him naked. There was part of me that very much wanted to assault him, to make him feel like Magda had when she saw the photos they posted of her. But when given the opportunity, I simply couldn’t do it. It wasn’t in me to violate someone, and I hadn’t yet decided if that was a trait I was glad to have. Regardless, I wasn’t like them, and I could live with that.

  Drew backed his car out of the parking spot. With the lights on, I could read the license plate. It was easy to memorize. Who could forget RCH BOY?

  I waited until they pulled out of the lot before I dialed 911. I needed them to not be near the bar when the cops pulled them over. I could’ve left it at that. Getting Drew arrested for drunk driving certainly qualified as revenge. But regardless of my moral line, I needed to be a little more upclose. I needed to look them in the eye if I could.

  At this point, Brody was trying to walk to his own car. I jogged through the parking lot as he braced himself on the trunk and puked again. Before I reached him, I pulled on the ski mask Magda had given me. I couldn’t get caught before I took care of Adam and Drew. I was being as smart as someone without a criminal background could be. At least, I thought I was.

  The bar parking lot was paved, so he didn’t hear me approach. He didn’t look up until my shadow fell across him, his eyes unfocused, a string of vomit hanging from his lip. He was known as one of the hottest guys in school, but he just looked pathetic and gross to me.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, pushing himself upright.

  I didn’t say anything. I just stood there and looked at him. I was wearing head-to-toe black—nothing easily identifiable, except for the mask. There was no way he could recognize me, especially if I kept my mouth shut.

  “You tr
ying to scare me or something?” he demanded, weaving on his feet.

  I didn’t speak.

  “You took that shot of Jay, didn’t you?” Brody asked, bringing my attention back to him.

  He lunged at me, and to my shame, caught me off guard. His fist slammed into my jaw. It would’ve hurt more had he been sober. As it was, his aim was a little off, and he almost fell down when he swung. He might have gotten the first hit, but as pain exploded in my jaw, rage unfurled in my stomach. My teeth had cut the inside of my cheek, and I tasted blood. I didn’t think; I just struck.

  One of my favorite places to hit an attacker is the throat. I’d never actually done it to someone who was actually attacking me, so when I did it to Brody, I took a moment to watch what it did to him. He clutched at his throat, wheezing for breath.

  I realized something else for the first time at that moment; adrenaline could counteract booze, because when he came at me next time, he was a lot more steady. I deflected the punch and hit him again—this time in the sternum. Then I punched him in the gut. He doubled over, puking again. I didn’t hesitate, I swung around with a roundhouse kick that put him down.

  I’d knocked him out. I’d never knocked anyone out before. My hands shook as I hooked him under the arms and dragged him to his car. He was heavy, but I had so much adrenaline racing through my veins that I think I could’ve picked up a truck; I felt that powerful.

  His keys were in his pocket, so I unlocked the doors and then heaved him into the backseat. I had to go around to the other side to pull him all the way in. Once I had him there I moved as quickly as my shaking limbs would allow.

  It was a warm night, so he was wearing a button-down shirt and jeans. My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, but I finally got it undone and pulled it off. Then, I took off his shoes and sock, leaving him in his jeans. I took his clothes and his keys and threw them in the Dumpster behind the bar before returning to the car.

  Magda’s lipstick was in my pocket. My body heat had softened it, made it smooth and creamy. I smeared the color across Brody’s lips before turning his body into my personal message board. He didn’t have any chest hair, so it was easy to write on his skin. In big block letters I wrote RAPIST over and over again, until he was covered in pink. I put my phone—showing the photo of Magda from her Facebook page—beside him. Then I took a picture—with his phone, of course. He had an Instagram account as well, linked to his FB and Twitter, so it was easy for me to upload. God, I loved technology and guys who were dumb enough not to lock their phone.

  I posted the photo with the hashtags #prettyinpink #rapist #cats #onfleek #hot...and anything else I could think of to get it as many views as possible. I also mailed a copy to everyone in his contact list. Then I wiped down the phone and tossed it on the seat beside him.

  That done, I made sure the car doors were locked when I shut them—tugging my sleeve over my hand so I didn’t leave prints. No matter what kind of monster he was, I wasn’t going to leave him as an easy target for another.

  I took the lipstick with me. I was probably going to need a new tube. Then I jogged back to my car, pulled off the mask, got in and drove away. I didn’t feel like going home. I was too jacked-up for that. So I texted Zoe to see what they were up to. It was just after midnight, but most of us had late curfews on the weekend. She called a few minutes later. I pressed the button on the dash screen to take her call through speaker.

  “Hey, Zoe. Are you still out?” I could hear noise in the background.

  “Yeah. We’re at that artsy coffee shop that’s open until two. You want to join? It’s open mic.”

  I couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be an enticement for me to come or warning to stay away. It didn’t matter. “You mean the Bare Bean? I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

  “Yay!”

  I laughed and hung up. My hands weren’t shaking quite so much now. I pulled into the coffee shop parking lot ten minutes later and went inside. My three new friends had a table not far from the stage area. I got a vanilla-cinnamon latte and walked over to join them. Then I saw Gabe.

  He was sitting at a full table toward the back. I recognized two of the guys with him as friends he’d had since high school. The others I didn’t know, especially the girls.

  It shouldn’t have bothered me, but the girls were pretty. They were college girls, which shouldn’t have made a difference, but it did. Maybe they were only a couple years older than me, but they were still older. Why would Gabe want to be with a stupid high school kid who was a reminder of his dead sister, when he could be with someone his own age who didn’t have that kind of sadness clinging to her?

  I wasn’t going to talk to him. I wasn’t going to let on I’d seen him. But first, I had to stop staring at him. Because if he turned around he’d probably see everything I felt for him plainly written on my face.

  “Hadley!” Anna cried. “You made it!”

  I hoped she didn’t see me wince. The three of them didn’t know Gabe, and they certainly didn’t know that I had a thing for him. So Anna couldn’t have known that he was the last person I wanted to notice me. But it wasn’t like my name was a common one, and of course he looked up. He looked right at me.

  I expected him to nod at me, maybe wave. I didn’t expect him to stand up in the middle of a conversation. And I didn’t expect him to make a beeline for me with a look on his face that scared me a little.

  “Hi,” I said uncertainly. He made scowling sexy. Sounds stupid, but it was true.

  “Who hit you?”

  Before I could lie and say I didn’t know what he was talking about, I gave myself away. My fingers instantly went to the spot where Brody’s fist had connected. It was a little tender, and I still had a bit of that blood taste in my mouth, but I hadn’t even looked at it in the car mirror. How bad was it?

  “Sparring partner,” I lied. Gabriel used to take martial arts, as well. I couldn’t tell him it had happened at Thursday night’s class, because he knew a fresh hit when he saw one. “Forgot to pull her punch.”

  He stared at me, his almost-black eyes impossible to read. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. Sometimes I thought he could just look right into my soul and know what was truth and what wasn’t. That terrified me, because what if he knew how I felt about him? Knowing I liked him was one thing, but I was afraid my feelings went deeper than that.

  “Next time use a different partner,” he suggested. “I don’t like the idea of someone actually hitting you.”

  My heart fluttered in my chest. Maybe he meant it in a brotherly way, but it didn’t feel brotherly. It felt...warm. Tingly.

  “Sometimes you get hit. You know that,” I reminded him. “It’s no big deal. I’ll be fine.”

  He touched my cheek. His fingers were warm and gentle. I had to fight to keep my eyes open, and not lean into him.

  “I don’t like seeing you hurt,” he said softly. “If I had my way, no one would ever hurt you. Be careful, Had, please. For me.”

  He killed me. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. All I could do was nod.

  He gave me a little smile. “I’ll see you later.”

  Gabriel walked away, leaving me standing there probably looking stupid. I mentally shook my head and continued to the table where my friends sat. All three of them were staring at me.

  “Who was that?” Caitlin demanded, her eyes huge. “He’s gorgeous.”

  I glanced at him, sitting with his friends once more. He smiled at something one of the girls said, then laughed when she said something else. My chest ached. He’d told me the next time we were together he’d kiss me—and he hadn’t.

  “He’s a friend,” I told them. “He’s just a friend.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Zoe had asked me to go to the mall with her on Saturday, to help her pick out some new clothes. I
hesitated to say yes. I hadn’t gone to the mall with anyone since Magda was alive. Going with someone else felt wrong. Like I was betraying my best friend, even though she wasn’t there, and probably wouldn’t care if she was. Mags had tried to push me away many times after her rape, and I thought I’d keep her if I just refused to give up. But I abandoned her anyway, without ever taking a step. And now, I was the one left alone.

  So, I could stay home and alternate between punishing myself and feeling pissed, or I could go out. Oddly enough, the second choice won out. I actually wanted to leave the house and spend time with another person who wasn’t Gabe.

  My mother, happy that I had actually made a friend, gave me some money so I could shop too. Zoe picked me up at noon. We went to Starbucks first to caffeinate before hitting the mall. I’d covered up the bruise on my face with some makeup, and it wasn’t all that noticeable. Thank God for drunks with bad aim.

  “Did you hear about Brody?” she asked when we were sitting at a table drinking our lattes.

  “I saw the photo. I might print it and get it framed.”

  “Oh yeah, what she did is awesome.”

  My heart skipped a beat and then began pounding out a hard new rhythm against my ribs. “She?”

  Zoe’s eyes widened. “You haven’t seen the video?” She pulled her phone out of her purse and began swiping and tapping the screen. “You’ve got to see this.” She handed it to me.

  On the screen—smudged with fingerprints—played a somewhat grainy video taken at night using only ambient light. It wasn’t very good quality, but you could see Drew’s car drive away, and me approaching Brody in all my grainy, ski-masked glory.

  Oh, shit. Stunned, I watched Brody hit me and my responding kick. Someone had filmed it, I hadn’t even noticed them. What if I hadn’t been wearing the mask?