Here’s chapter 1 of the new book, “Dangerous Roommate.” Enjoy reading. Let me know your thoughts about this chapter in the comment section below.
“Target on sight,” Pierre, his fellow police officer, much younger than him, whispered with the radio in hand, watching the man, wearing a black pair of sunglasses that matched his semi-casual business clothes, enter the building.
But little did he know those three words were enough to get Gunther’s attention as he woke up from his nap. His eyes popped, almost leaping off the passenger’s seat. He straightened himself and jerked his head, facing his colleague.
“Where is he?”
When Pierre pointed his finger in that direction, he swiveled his head, following the man’s tracks as he walked inside. With his eyes locked on the target, he saw him approaching someone, shaking his hand. Then, he sat and began the conversation.
From afar, Gunther was getting more and more impatient. Well, nobody could blame his restlessness. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time. For over the course of a year and a half, he had spent most of his time tailing his tracks, and now, he was at the point of no return. For him, this was the D-day he had hoped to arrive, that special day he had been waiting to celebrate.
As much as he wanted to jump off by impulse, he knew he wouldn’t dare step out of the car. After everything he had done, after everything he had sacrificed, there was no way he would blow this off.
So, he waited. Even though his blood was boiling, feeling his insides twisting, he tried to keep his composure intact. Despite the strong urges he felt, he patiently waited and waited until the man was done.
When Gunther saw him rise from his seat, his heart skipped and then dropped as the man went on shaking hands and left. “Fuck! He’s leaving.”
For a second, he jumped off the car, and with the gun hanging from his waist, he ran and ran until the man noticed him. While the other police officers tailed him, he kept running, chasing the person of interest. Although he felt the painful burning sensation enveloping his legs, his mind was firm to get the guy. No matter what happens, he would never allow this man to escape.
While the man kept running, Gunther pursued. He went through the narrow alleys, crossing several streets and jumping off garbage bins with ease. Unlike the typical police officer, thankfully, he was fit enough for this kind of chase. Even though he wasn’t as fit as he was in his early twenties when he joined the police force, he was thankful that, though white strands covered most of his head, wrinkles scored his facial lines, he could still run like a horse.
He didn’t stop. He kept going, though exhaustion began to hit him. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath when he saw the man swiftly turn to the right side of the street. When he turned, his eyes were quick to follow his tracks despite the traffic that welcomed his entrance.
But that wasn’t enough to pull him down. Instead, he jumped over cars and then ran until he noticed the man slowing down. Rather than watching him struggle, he kept going, although his feet felt numb, his legs wobbled, and his breath coalesced with panting. Even with the pain he felt, he continued because, in his mind, nobody could get away from Gunther. Especially not this man.
When the opportunity came by surprise, his smirk was audacious enough as his drive to catch the man skyrocketed. Despite feeling the old age slowly enveloping his body, it didn’t stop him from keeping his laser-focused attention intact. He paused and took the gun from his waist, pointing at the man, who kept walking limply in sprints.
“Stop right there!”
Struggling to catch his breath, the man swiveled his head and slowly turned, revealing his face as he looked at him.
Gunther tightened his grip on the gun. “I said stop. Hands in the air!” He announced with firmness in his voice, only to get baffled when he noticed how calm and collected the man was. While he kept his eyes on him, his chest throbbed as he remained still. He could hear his breaths escape his mouth, breaking the growing silence.
The man smirked as he raised both arms in the air. “Finally. You got me.”
Much later, Gunther entered the interrogation room alone. He grabbed the seat and gave the man a long look, studying his face as though he was taking notes. “Detective Gunther Zambrano. Gun, for short. Remember that name, bastard,” he said in a low, grainy voice, eyeing him. He slammed the document on the table, hoping he could get a reaction from this man. However, he remained still, which baffled him. It was as if this man had nothing to lose. He looked like that. He felt like that.
The man flashed a smile, revealing a dimple on one side of his face. “It’s nice to meet you, Gun. How can I help you?” He widened his eyes, flashing a smug as he leaned his back against his seat.
“I’ve been following your tracks, and I know you’re up to no good.” He paused and moved his attention to the papers he had. “Name: Stefan Arellano. Age: Thirty. Global managing director,” he said, eyeing him. When something in the document caught his attention, his eyes widened. “So, you’re from TEFAF.”
Stefan smirked. “Yes, I am.”
Gunther’s eyebrows twitched, feeling his chest tighter. He sighed, curling his fist, trying to calm himself down. But as much as he wanted to keep restraining himself, the effort and the sacrifices this man had made him make were too far-fetched to contain. So, he slammed his fist by way of punctuation. “Then, what are you doing there? You aren’t supposed to be there!”
“Is there something wrong with being there? Were you expecting a suspect to come?” Stefan asked, leaving Gunther scoffing, shaking his head in disbelief. “It looks like you’ve got the wrong guy.”
The subtle confidence in his voice prompted the officer to grab his collar with both hands. He tugged him in his direction, glowering at him. “I’ve not mistaken. I know I’ve got the man.” He groaned.
“Well, it’s a pleasure meeting you,” Stefan said, shoving the officer’s grip. He grunted, and when freed, he straightened himself and went on fixing himself—rubbing his palm against his hair and patting his hand on the same areas where Gunther’s hands had been. He clucked. “You know how much time I’ve wasted because of you.”
Though he wasn’t convinced by the man’s answer, Gunther babbled. “We’re not finished yet. You may leave a free man right now, but I know we’ll see each other again someday.”
“I’ll be looking forward to that. See you around.” Stefan turned his back and left the room, closing the door. Just a few steps away, he paused and eyed the door for the last time before he walked in strides, smiling his way through the police officers around until he reached the entry.
Then, when he was about to cross the street, a white van stopped, screeching. A group of men larger than him hopped off and approached him. He noticed their eyes weren’t friendly and somehow thought their faces were familiar. He may have seen them before, but he didn’t care. He felt a strange feeling of danger swelling his gut the closer they were to him.
Before he could even have a good look at them, they wrapped his head with a piece of black fabric. He screamed as they played tug-of-war, attempting to save himself and get away from this. But he was outnumbered, so he couldn’t do anything else except let go and let God.
When they arrived, they pushed him inside, leaving him speechless because the place was too familiar to him. All of a sudden, another group surrounded him. He had no idea who took him until he sat on the living room couch. The same couch he had bought six months ago.
Then, the old woman appeared. Despite her old age, she looked elegant and sophisticated. Her gray hairs and red lips were audacious as her confidence. With her pixie cut paired with white pearls on both ears, she was quintessential, to say the least. But with those men around her, there was nothing feminine about her.
It was then the first moment he realized his grandmother had taken him to his home. His own home. “How did you find me?”
“Are you underestimating me?” She smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, my dear. Don’t you miss, Lola?”
Author’s Note:
Thank you so much for spending time reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did when I wrote this part months ago. This chapter, in particular, reminded me of those times when I sat before my desk, seemingly prepared to type in words, but I struggled to keep it up.
It took an external motivation to get it through, and, at that time, the NaNoWriMo event was upcoming. At that time, I thought, “This could be a great opportunity to try and give this a shot one more time. You’d done an excellent job with ‘The Rival,’ so you could do it, Mecyll.”
You know, it’s easier said than done because writing a chapter with a clear intent to finish it requires more than just a skill. Since I started writing fiction, I realized how much this work demands my ability to be naked and the guarantees to answer whether I was mentally, emotionally, and spiritually prepared to face my fears, conscious or unconscious.
So, being able to write this down meant I managed despite the countless times dancing around with depression and enjoying the roller coaster rides my anxiety provided me.
This is why I don’t know how to thank you for your support, regardless of the scale or contribution size, from sharing my work with others or buying my books. It doesn’t matter because, for me, every small act you show is appreciated.
Again, thank you, and have a great day!
If you like to support my writing life, here’s what you can do:
- Get a copy of “The Rival” Uncensored Gay Romance Novel.
- Read “Dr. Clay” (Cult of Eros #1)
- Check out my latest book, “Non-Native Speakers Only.”
- Find more writing tips on my website (i.e., content writing, freelance writing, copywriting, self-publishing, novel writing, and many more!)
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