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They strived, succeeded, and went on with life like it never happened. Like they didn’t leave us there to die.
One person did die because of that night.
They think it was two.
Jake continues to yak in my ear about all the ‘what ifs’ in the universe. I continue to shift my thoughts away from it all, because Logan keeps creeping to the forefront of my mind.
I’ll finally get to see him tomorrow.
Tyler lies down for the night, and I flip the monitor over to regular television. Bedtime seems to be ten consistently so far. In fact, everything he does seems to be scheduled, including his shit breaks.
“I’m getting off here, Jake.”
“Fine. Fine. Call me back later.”
Hanging up, I start taking inventory. My knives are in a row, lined up inside my homemade multi-sheath. They’re clean and wiped free of fingerprints, as always.
I move to the fridge and pour myself a glass of straight vodka. Smiling, I turn on the music, an old vinyl my father used to love. He and my mother danced to this song a lot at night, back before life was derailed in a metaphorical train crash.
As I sway with the mus
ic, dancing like they used to, I almost miss the sound of heavy pounding against my door.
My body jolts when I register the sound, and my heart slams into my throat. No one comes here. Ever. It’s a creepy driveway with gargoyles at the end just to make it a little creepier. Then there are several signs warning against trespassing.
Not even my mailman dares to venture the half mile driveway to my house. My packages get left at the end of the driveway.
My eyes dart out the window, but I don’t see a vehicle in plain view. After flicking off the record player, I push the knives into the drawer closest to me as the knocking persists. I pick up my gun, carrying it as I silently cross the floor to the door.
When I peek through the peephole, my eyes widen and my breath rushes out in disbelief.
“Shit!” I hiss, scrambling to toss the gun into the drawer attached the table beside the door.
“Come on, pretty girl. Don’t tell me you’re not home after I broke rules and privacy laws to find you,” Logan drawls from the other side of the door.
My stomach flutters as that goofy grin starts to spread, and I swing open the door to a smiling FBI agent. His grin broadens as his eyes rake over me, and he looks back up as an eyebrow arches.
“Best. Greeting. Ever.”
I’m confused for a second, so I glance down my body to see that, yep; I’m not wearing pants. I rarely do when I’m at home.
I look back up and shrug, ignoring the way a twinge of heat spreads up my neck. I’m embarrassed? Really? I didn’t know I could be embarrassed until this moment.
“Can I come in before anyone sees you? I’d hate to have to show my jealous side so early on,” he deadpans, but he winks as I slowly step back, trying not to say or do anything stupid.
Should I run and put on pants? Or will I look like an idiot who forgot to put on pants? Confident girls walk around in a T-shirt and panties all the time, right?
Fucking eh.
“My driveway is sort of creepy, and with all the vegetation growth, no one can see me here,” I ramble, then zip my lips.
As soon as he gets the door shut, he turns and his gaze shifts. Something subtle changes, and the amused glint there melts away for something far more enticing.
I start to speak, to explain why I stupidly answered the door without pants, when he’s suddenly on me. His hands go to my hair, tilting my head back roughly, and his mouth crashes against mine.
I go from surprised to melting within seconds, opening my lips so his tongue can sweep in and steal what small fraction of sanity I have left.
I moan into his mouth as one of his hands slides down my body, gripping my waist just enough to pull me to him. Both my hands come up and grab onto his shoulders so that I don’t sag to the ground.
