Teacher's Pet by ReeseisLAVAhot, schoolbusgirl

CHAPTER 1

I hung up the phone in a bit of a daze. The voice on the other end was one I had never thought to hear again in this lifetime.

A low ghostly voice told me “You need to meet me at White Dunes Beach. Do you remember those things I taught you about evasion?”

“Yeess.” I stuttered.

“Then go, NOW.” And the phone went dead.

Hearing that voice once more brought me back to that terrible time in my life where nothing seemed like it would ever be normal again. Just six short months ago, I had been "introduced" into the world of Mr. John Reese. I had heard that he was the one to contact when all else seemed lost. He was and is an expert at uncovering peoples’ secrets and flaws.

It started with me feeling like someone was always watching me. At first I thought I was being paranoid. After all a woman living alone in NYC HAS to be a bit paranoid about safety. But then one day I came home and saw that the coffee was NOT where I remembered putting it that morning. It really freaked me out. Nothing else in my apartment was touched, just that one little detail. I began watching everyone out of the corner of my eye.

After the coffee incident, I contacted my only true friend in the city. An old friend from high school that now lived and breathed the law. She was a detective on the NYC police force.

"Detective Carter, homicide." she answered the phone.

"Hi Joss! It's Cecilia Caro. Can you spare me a few minutes? Perhaps meet me for lunch?" I asked.

"Sure thing, Cecilia. Everything ok?"

"No, and that's what I want to talk to you about but not over the phone. Do you
know that diner on 49th and Washington? The Lyric? Can you meet me there tomorrow at say eleven?"

"Yes. I'll be there." she paused. "Take care, Cecilia. Call me if you need something before then." and we hung up.

I must have sounded a little worried even over the phone. Then again, Joss always was a perceptive one. It was what made her so good at her job; that and the fact that she was the best at connecting the dots. So, the next day I found myself waiting for her in the diner we had agreed to meet at. I was even more scared today. When I had arrived home last night my computer was on. I never leave my computer on and had recently taken to changing my password every morning before I went off to work. That night I slept with a kitchen knife under my pillow and all the lights on in the apartment.

The next day, I left work early and walked down 49th towards the diner where I was supposed to meet Joss. I looked everywhere around me, watching for someone, I don’t know, anyone who looked dangerous or looked at me funny. After the incident with my computer I was pretty sure that someone HAD to be watching me. And then, just before I arrived at the diner, I saw the same man for a third time. I started shaking. I almost stopped and turned to run, but then I remembered the reason I was here in the first place and I walked very fast down the next block and into the diner. I took a seat and several deep breaths, watching the door for any sign of the man or my friend.

She showed up three minutes later. “Hi, Joss.” I said with obvious relief.

“Hi, Cecilia. What's up? Why the phone call after all these years? I've missed you, how have you been?” I relayed my story of the coffee and the computer and the feelings of being watched. I ended with the idea that I was now being followed. She then handed me a number, the number of a private “contractor” by the name of John Reese. He was supposed to be good at weeding out the unknown.

"I don't know Joss, I'm not sure about this, maybe I’m just..."

She cut me off. "Look Cecilia, I KNOW you. You aren't imagining things. Call him.
He can help you. He's very professional for what he does and I trust him. Actually if things are as bad as I think they are getting, I'm surprised HE hasn't contacted YOU."
I wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean and told her so.

"Never mind. Just call him Cecilia. Today."

I told her I would and we ate the rest of our lunch, reminiscing about the good ole days of high school. Later on that day, I picked up the phone and dialed the number she had given me earlier. My hands were trembling. My high school friend said she trusted this guy, but at the moment, I trusted no one.

A soft, low masculine voice answered, "This is Reese, leave a message." I left my first and last name along with my number and also mentioned how I had gotten his name. I quickly hung up and poured myself a stiff drink.

I was just starting to relax when there was a knock at the door. The fear was back in an instant. I grabbed the kitchen knife that I had taken to carrying around with me. I resolved that if I survived this, I would get a handgun and learn how to shoot it. I slowly approached the door, once more cursing the super for not installing that peephole I had asked him about months ago. I opened the door and standing there was a very tall man in a dark suit and driving coat. He had a look to him that screamed danger to my already sensitive nerves. I tried to slam the door immediately but he just stuck his foot out to catch the door and then walked in.

I raised my knife and said, "Stay back! I'm not afraid to use this!" I was pleased that my voice wasn't trembling as much as my knees were.

He quickly knocked the kitchen knife out of my shaking hand. “I'm John Reese.” the voice spat out. “First rule never answer the door without asking questions first. Second, never threaten someone with a knife, unless you intend on using it.“ He quickly surveyed my apartment, telling me what things needed to be secured and how, most of them, he would do himself. He was so handsome, and yet very professional and thorough.

His self-assurance and calm demeanor put me a little more at ease. He strode around the apartment like he owned it. I went to the counter and poured myself another drink. "I'd offer you one." I told him. "But I know you wouldn't take it." He gave me a look and told me to sit down.

"I need you to tell me everything that you told Detective Carter. Start at the very first time you ever felt like you were being watched."

I did as he asked. He stopped me repeatedly to ask questions... Did I notice anyone in my building who didn't belong? Did anyone new start working at my job lately? What time was it when I went to work, came home, felt like I was being watched? The questions he asked made me feel like I was reliving every frightening moment. When I was done, I felt worn out and drained.

After he was done grilling me, Mr. Reese said he'd be back in touch with me very soon, that I should begin securing my apartment and he left as quickly as he came. But before he did, he asked one more question. "How did you know I wouldn't accept a drink?"

“Because, Joss said you were a professional and even I can see that she’s right. I didn’t think professionals would drink while working." He nodded at that and then left.

After he closed the door, I took my first deep breath of relief. I could still smell his masculine scent wafting throughout my apartment, a mixture of musk and the woodsy scent of oak. A small part of me had wanted to beg him to stay here tonight. I didn't want to be alone again. But I felt a little better as I went around the apartment and secured it as he had instructed. The last thing I did before I went to bed was to jam a chair under the front doorknob. I grabbed the kitchen knife from the counter where Mr. Reese had left it and walked back to my bedroom. I knew he had said that I shouldn't carry it unless I was prepared to use it, but it made me feel better having it under my pillow. I changed and climbed into bed. I must have laid there for twenty minutes before I realized just what it was that was keeping me awake. While I wasn't as frightened of some unknown stranger as I was before, I now was a bit worried about the stranger that was Mr. Reese. I remembered how those deep blue eyes were so penetrating when I was relating my story. How he always sat with his back to a wall and never a door. There was something so deadly about the way he held himself, about the way he kept his hands at the ready. Then I started thinking about those hands. They seemed so deadly, yet I also realized that I did not think I had anything to fear from them or him. I was just being silly, I told myself. He was here to help. And so I feel asleep dreaming of tall, dark handsome men with blue eyes. I felt as though I could still almost smell his scent from earlier and I found that immensely comforting.