Page 5

She has no fucking idea what she's touching.

“You are really committed to the role.”

“Role?”

She gestures to the blood. “Your costume, silly! It’s amazing.”

I stare at her, wondering what the hell is wrong with this woman.

Who runs up to a bloody, strange man and starts babbling about costumes?

I could be a serial killer, for fuck’s sake.

Well, I am a killer.

But a hired one.

There’s a difference.

She tugs me forward, still babbling.

I'm so stunned, I don't bother fighting her.

She leads me down the road, gesturing at the brightly colored lights and the vendor booths lining the road for a few blocks.

She isn’t backing away.

She isn’t screaming.

Hell, she isn’t even nervous.

Most people take one look at me and choose self-preservation. This woman grabbed my arm like she’d already decided I was safe.

I look down at her, opening my mouth to tell her she made a mistake, but the words die in my throat.

She’s beautiful. Radiant in the festive lights surrounding us.

Her hair is a riot of pale gold curls, like she'd stolen the sunlight and refused to give it back. They look soft enough to ruin a man's self-control.

And her eyes... Christ. They’re an impossible shade of green. They’re not emerald. Too bright for that. More like fresh spring leaves after a rainstorm.

A mischievous glint flickers in her eyes as she points. “Are you part of the haunted trail?”

This is getting out of hand.

I try to pull my arm away.

She doesn’t seem to notice.

“I heard the guy with the chainsaw last year was terrible. But you? You’re convincing.”

“I’m not part of⁠—”

I sway slightly from blood loss.

She nods approvingly. “Wow, method acting.”

I don’t correct her. I’m too busy trying to remain on my feet.