Page 52 of How To Catch A Killer … And Date His Best Friend

“What are the chances there are two Lyras living on this floor?”

I shake my head again, unable to stop at this point. “Nope. No fucking way. This isn’t happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” he mutters, looking just as sick at the thought. “You got a picture of your girl?”

I nod, already digging my phone out of my pocket before scrolling through my gallery and finding the picture I’d taken right after fucking her raw in the alley. Passing my phone to Hunter, I find myself holding my breath, waiting for his response. He lets out a sigh. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Shit.”

I drop heavily back to the couch, feeling dejected. But I try to put everything together. The night I met her out in the street, she was worked up and annoyed because some asshole had left her high and dry. And now looking at Hunter, it suddenly makes sense. She’s the girl he bailed on half way through their date. How the fuck didn’t I see that earlier?

“Break up with her,” I tell him straight.

“Fuck no,” he throws back. “I saw her first.”

“She’s not a fucking toy. You bailed on her and fucked it up, and now that I know exactly what kind of woman you bailed on, there’s no denying that there’s something seriously wrong with your head. Besides, she doesn’t even like you,” I remind him. “Take one for the team. Bow out. She’s into me now.”

Hunter scoffs. “Not possible. She likes me, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

I feel like an ass, but there’s no backing down this time. Hunter has always come first for me. He’s my boy. My best friend. I have always had his back. I want him to find the one. A girl he can have a life with. Someone who balances out his darkness. He needs that more than he will ever know, and that girl is out there somewhere, but it’s not Lyra. I’m not about to let this one slip through my fingers.

I scoff right back. “Hate to break it to you, man. She fucking despises you,” I tell him, rubbing salt in the wound, because why the hell not? “I should be thanking you. You’re the only reason she was so worked up that night. If it weren’t for you majorly dropping the ball, she never would have given me a chance.”

His stare narrows. “We’re not going to fight over a girl.”

“Hate to break it to ya, but this one is kinda worth it.”

“Fuck,” he grunts falling to the couch beside me. “She really is.”

“So what now?”

He grunts with amusement. “It’s pretty fucking simple. You stop seeing her.”

“Ain’t gonna happen.”

My best friend glances at me. “You really like her that much?”

I nod, more than ready to lay my cards out on the table. “I ain’t gonna lie,” I tell him, getting more vulnerable than I’ve ever been. “I’ve got it bad, and judging by the fact that you haven’t even attempted to step back, you do too.”

“Well,” he says, dragging a hand down his face. “Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

I lean back and exhale. This isn’t exactly the way I thought my night was going to go, but now that we’re here, there’s not a lot either of us can do about it. Though there is one thing we can do, something tells me it’s not going to end well for either of us.

15

LYRA

Idig my spoon deep into the chocolate ice cream before delivering it right into my mouth. I’ve been going at this for the last twenty minutes, trying to swallow my feelings about the fact that I just got all down and dirty with a killer.

There’s no question about it anymore. It’s certified. I am actually insane, because what other option is there? I have to be losing my mind. What kind of well-rounded woman voluntarily lets a killer rail her the way he did, and not only that, but then goes back for seconds?

I should book in for a psych consult.

I’m almost halfway through the pint of ice cream, sprawled out on my couch when a knock sounds at my door, and I pause, my spoon halfway to my mouth. The knock immediately puts me on edge. There’s only one person that’s going to be. After all, anybody else coming to visit me would have to be buzzed in at the main entrance, everybody except someone who already lives in the building . . . or somebody with the passcode.

Hunter fucking Cole, come for revenge.