Flash this!

Flash Monday time! Let’s all holler with excitement. I wanna say this should’ve been a hard prompt this week, but it was actually pretty easy for me:) Although, writing this from a new point of view made it easier.

Prompt: Only two fingers on his left hand…

The coldness seeped through his skin, radiating all the way to his heart. The droplets of water splashing to the ground didn’t take notice until an annoying voice pricked his ears.

“Geez, Dash, watch what you’re doing. You’re getting that shit on my feet.”

He flung the wet rag into the sink behind him and smirked as he walked to the other end of the bar. He didn’t particularly like Cindy, but she was a helluva bartender, so he had no choice but to employ her. Sometimes he wanted to fire her ass just because she had the most annoying voice ever.

He needed to get his head on straight. Focus. Keep his shit together. Zoning out in the middle of a Friday night, one of the busiest times, wasn’t the way to keep it together.

But he was worried about her. He knew he never should’ve let her leave the bar alone. Not that he could’ve stopped her.

Well, okay, he could’ve stopped her. All he would’ve had to do was throw her over his shoulder and lock her up in his office where he could’ve finally told her how he felt. That he cared about her. Loved her, even.

Love. That was not an emotion he gave lightly. Here he was, giving it to a woman who didn’t give him that much attention unless she was ordering a beer. How could he love her already?

She came in every Friday, usually with her douche friend Stephen. He couldn’t stand that creep. There was something about him that rubbed him the wrong way. His friend Rocket agreed. As soon as he came back with some good intel about the jerk, he’d be having a conversation with her whether she liked it or not. He would throw her over his shoulder to do it if he had to.

He didn’t talk to her much. A few short conversations before her friend always arrived that had him yearning for more. It was strange, really. Lots of women came through his bar. He talked with a variety of them. But none of them touched his heart the way she did. There was just something about her.

Apparently, someone else felt the same way. He couldn’t help himself when she was near. He overheard her conversation on the phone, no doubt with the douche on the other end. Someone had been bothering her lately. Stalking her. She didn’t want to spend the evening out at the bar because of it. So she left. He knew right away he should’ve told Cindy he was taking a break and followed her home. Like a stalker, he chuckled to himself. Just to make sure she made it home safely.

“Yo, Dash, let’s talk.”

He looked towards the end of the bar to see Rocket standing with his hands in his pockets and an expression that scared him. He led the way to his office, shutting the door behind Rocket.

“What’s up?”

“Took a bit, especially since you couldn’t get me Stephen’s last name, but I finally got some great info on the son of a bitch.”

Dash started to pace. “It doesn’t sound like I probably wanna know.”



“His real name is Robert Stephen Carson. He’s got a record for a few assaults and possessions.”

He stopped in his tracks, lifting his gaze to Rocket. “And?”

“He’s got issues.”

“What kind of issues?”

“The mental kind. He’s sick in the head.”

“How sick?”

“His latest assault, about two years ago, he busted up this dude. When he was finished with the guy, only two fingers on his left hand weren’t broken. And that’s me being kind, because I could tell you the full extent of the injuries the dude received.”

Dash ran his hands through his hair and pulled on the ends. “Why isn’t he sitting in a cell right now?”

“Told ya, mental issues. Got thrown in an institution and they released him about seven months later, saying he was all better.”

“Then he met Heather…”

“You said someone’s been stalking her.”

Dash nodded.

“I don’t think he just met Heather. I think they’ve known each other a long time. And I think he’s her stalker.”

“Shit!” Dash brushed a hand across his desk, sending the papers, pencil holder, and nearly his computer to the ground.

Breathing heavily, he tried to calm his nerves. Heather needed him. He would be no use if he lost his cool.

“I have to find her. She left about thirty minutes ago.”

“I got her address and his. Tell me which one to take.”

Dash walked behind his desk, pulling the painting away from the wall. A quick flick of his wrist and he had the safe unlocked. He pulled out his Glock, checking the weapon with the same precision he mastered when he was in the military.

“You check his place. I don’t trust myself with the asshole.” He shoved the gun behind his back. “Because right now, I wanna kill him. If he hurt her…”

“Just like old times.” Rocket slowly smiled as he followed Dash out of his office.

Yeah, like old times. Dash left part of his old life behind him for a reason. He didn’t want to hurt people anymore. Now. Now he wanted nothing more than to torture Robert with his bare hands until every last bone in his body was broken. And if he hurt Heather, even one little scratch, Robert was gonna wish he was dead already.


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