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“Detective Hernandez,” I breathe, clutching the strap of my laundry bag.
“What are you doing here?” we say in unison. I hold the can of tuna and shrug. Opening it, I place it down by the door. “I was worried about the cats. Lee, the man who died, was supposed to be checking in to feed them.”
“Right.” He nods. “I’ll call animal control.”
“Why? Isn’t the woman who lives here going to be home soon?”
He looks over his shoulder into the apartment, then steps out onto the landing, pulling the door closed. “Actually, we’re having trouble locating her.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“I thought she was away on a business trip?” Is it getting hot? My cheeks burn as my head swirls.
“Supposedly, but the hotel she booked doesn’t have it on their system that she ever checked in.”
Why is he being so forthcoming with information? “Do you think something happened to her?”
“I’m hoping not.”
My mind races. “What about the blood? On the petal.”
“I was going to come to see you about that. The sample came back with a match.”
Wow, this is it. It’s Willis. I know it.
“Who?” I say forcefully, refraining from reaching out and shaking him for the answer.
“You,” he says, studying me for a reaction.
Gasping, I step back, darkness closing in, threatening to consume. What? It can’t be. “How?” He reaches for my hand, turning my palm up. Tiny scabs litter my flesh from me re-opening old scars over and over. I have to go. I tug my hand free and run down the stairs, spilling into the street, almost falling to the ground. I still, grasping for air. Something moves behind me, so I dart toward my building without looking to see who or what it is. Only feet from my building, I break into a stride and grab the handle as my heart warns it’s about to burst from my chest. Someone reaches out for the handle at the same time, and I screech, spinning to face them with my hands out in a defensive manner, the laundry bag still in my grip. Green Eyes? What the hell? He steps back and holds his hands up in surrender. My nerves are fried, and my heart is in my mouth. “Are you following me?” I accuse, my breath ragged.
“No,” he answers, matter-of-factly.
Detective Hernandez watches us from the front of the other building, then walks toward us. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” I shake my head in dismissal, wanting to be away from him—from everyone.
“Mr. Clark,” Hernandez says, turning his attention on Green Eyes. Mr. Clark?
“All good, Detective.” His tone is calm, soft.
“Are you going inside?” Hernandez asks.
“Yes,” both Mr. Clark and I say at the same time. I dart my gaze to his, which is already focused on me. He moves forward again, and I move out of the way, allowing him to open the door for us. The door slams behind us, Detective Hernandez watching through the glass panel.
As we take the stairs, my cheeks flame and a million-questions zip through my brain. “So, Mr. Clark?” I ask, my voice shaky. “That’s your name?”
“One of.” He smiles, and it’s breathtaking and haunting all at once.
“What does that even mean?” I scoff.
The pulse in his neck bulges as he ponders my question. “It means sometimes there’s a more complicated answer and people aren’t ready to hear it.”
“Am I people?” I slow as we reach my floor. There’s an energy when we’re together that’s impossible to deny, but why, how?
“You’re the one person who makes who I am terrifying to me,” he says, his expression etched with pain and need. “So, for now you can call me Clark.”
My brows crash together. He’s speaking in riddles. “I’m done with this. You can go now,” I croak, fear of what’s happening assailing every part of me. I know you.
“I was waiting for the right moment,” he calls out to me as I search for my key.
“Right time for what?” I ask, exasperated.
A wisp of air flees my lungs as his scent invades my senses. He’s so close, pushing against me, pinning me to the railing, his face hovering above mine, so close, I can taste his breath. His body melds to mine, engulfing me. So broad and tall. Strong hands grasp my cheeks, so gentle, it’s a beautiful agony. Thick, plump lips brush over mine, tightening my core. What the hell is happening? I both want to pull him closer and push him away, afraid of what this could lead to, who he is, what this means. It’s madness. My body dissolves against him as his tongue probes my lips, parting them. I give in to the sensation and grasp him by the lapels, pulling him into me, starved for affection, contact. The kiss turns desperate and messy, our tongues dueling, bodies trying to get closer. I’ve never felt this need before. It’s overwhelming. He pulls away abruptly, and I make a mewling sound.
