When the phone rang, I ignored it. When Piper texted, I put my phone on silent. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to think. I had flour in my hair, batter on my apron, and cinnamon under my nails.
But it didn’t matter how filled up my kitchen got with desserts because my mind was still filled up with him.
Damn it.
How dare he kiss me like that? How dare he make me feel something for him other than hatred? His heart might beat like mine. His lungs might fill with air. He might walk and talk like everyone else out on the streets, but he was different. He wasn’t really human.
He was a machine.
A robot.
A killer.
He looked me in the eye and told me it didn’t bother him. He told me that he killed over and over again without regret.
But, really, I guess the problem wasn’t him. The problem was me. Because even knowing all those things, even knowing that he would kill again, I still felt things for him. Things I didn’t want to feel.
Death isn’t a place for a girl like you.
His words haunted me. He was right. And so I was going to stay away from death—from him. I was going to bake until I ran out of flour and move on with my life. I never should have gotten involved with him; it was stupid to think I could stop him, that I could chase him out of town.
No more.
From here on out, Charming could be someone else’s problem.
But what about Rosalyn?a voice inside me whispered. She deserved some kind of warning that Charming wasn’t who she thought. She’d become my friend and I couldn’t just let her walk right into her own death.
I was going to have to talk with her. But after that I couldn’t be friends with her anymore. It was too complicated and it made me feel guilty. Every time I was around her I felt like a liar. I didn’t like feeling that way.
I glanced at my phone, then away again. Not today. I couldn’t deal with this—with her today. Maybe later this week I would feel less shaky and more like myself. Then I would call her.
Then I would somehow tell her the truth about Charming.
Chapter Seventeen
“Socialite - a person who is or seeks to be prominent in fashionable society.”
Charming
I liked money. I liked cars and clothes. I liked having nice things and the ability to buy whatever I wanted. But sometimes the things I had to do to earn my money really sucked. And I didn’t mean the killing. Killing didn’t require much talking or much listening.
But spending time with a Target—specifically Rosalyn—required both.
I was starting to think that eventually going to hell wasn’t my punishment for murder—it was spending time with her.
It was a Saturday, a day most socialites would be lounging in bed, playing golf, or sitting by a pool. Not Rosalyn. No, she would rather drag me all over Fairbanks to scout locations for the fundraiser that I offered to help her chair.
What surprised me was that there were so many viable locations for such an event. I didn’t think this town consisted of much more than snow.
“Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?” she said, wrapping her hand around my elbow and looking up.
“I’m sorry, my brain’s starting to shut down from lack of caffeine,” I said and gave her my best smile.
“It has been a long morning. Let’s get some lunch and caffeine,” she said.
“Now you’re talking.”
“It will give us a chance to discuss all the venues and pick one.”
