Page 4 of Death is Familiar

“You’re just gonna have to trust me.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me for years, you of all people should know that’s not going to happen. Trust is earned⁠—”

“Mads.”

“—Mads.” Mads the Muffin Man. Easy. I could remember that.

“See? I trusted you with my name. Just like I am gonna trust that this little visit will stay between us. That you won’t go blabbing to the scary FBI agent across the hall.”

“It’s not my fault if you’re caught on camera.”

“Oh, I’ve got that covered.” He held up a device that looked like a modified walkie-talkie. A jammer. At least I knew how he’d managed to get in and out without being seen, but it also meant my security cameras were useless. There would be no proof of the Muffin Man—Mads—in my apartment. “Give me a call when you figure out the code and want to go to the safety deposit box. I’ll bring the key.”

“I’d need your number for that.”

“I could write it on your mirror…” The sandy-haired man smiled, suddenly cocky, as he made his way to the door.

My stomach bottomed out at the thought. “Not funny.”

Mads was a step away from the door, so close to leaving, when he typed something into his cell. Immediately, my phone buzzed.

He’d texted me, though I’d never given him my number.

But the text gave me an opportunity.

Pretending to check the message, I snapped a photo of Mads.

None the wiser, Mads slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Use it wisely. No names. We both know who’s listening.”

The FBI. It wasn’t exactly a secret they were monitoring my device. “Better not loiter, don’t want you to get caught.” I closed the space between us, grabbed the door just wide enough for him to squeeze through. There would be no mistaking that I wanted him out. His time was up.

Mads gave me a once over, then flashed a devilish grin. “I’ll be seeing you, Delilah.”

And with that he slipped through the door, and left.

Once I was confident he was out of earshot, I locked both the deadbolt and the handle, and let out a shaking breath. I banked my protective fury and let myself feel.

My ribs were killing me.

My back ached.

My nerves threatened to get the better of me.

But at least I was alone.

Crossing the floor to my window, I hoped to catch Mads leaving the premises, but he didn’t step into view. He must have known I would try to track him. Short of following him out into the parking lot, no answers on where he was staying, or how he’d been keeping tabs on me, were going to reveal themselves while I was inside my apartment.

Now it was just me. Me and the pregnancy test waiting on the bathroom counter. And I was out of excuses.

Let’s get this over with.

I grabbed hold of the stick, my palm covering the results window. Even though it was just a precaution, meant to rule pregnancy out, I didn’t want to look. Just in case.

With my eyes shut tight, I took a deep breath. Then another. Steadying myself. My thoughts.

On my exhale, I looked.

Fuck.