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“Good work,” he said. “Pretty thorough for such a short period of time. Or have you been looking into Josh Kelley for longer?”
“No, I haven’t, though I clearly should have been,” I said, studying him. “So what is this about, Josh? Or whatever your name is.”
“You know it’s not Josh, and what this is about is whether you want to stay alive.”
I swallowed thickly, noticing the shift in him.
Whereas before he had been teasing, almost pleasant, he changed instantly.
I recognized a feeling I’d felt around him before, but at the same time didn’t recognize it.
Because my pal, my friend Josh, was nowhere to be found.
And in his place was this…predator.
Those feelings I’d had before, the ones I’d always dismissed…
They were true.
And I was fucked.
He moved smoothly, taking a big, shiny gun out of his waistband, handling it like it was something he did every day.
Which he probably did.
Did I say I was fucked?
I wasn’t.
I was epically fucked.
“Don’t panic,” he said, still holding the gun casually, the way it glinted under the low light in my living room threatening to make my head spin.
“I’m not panicking,” I lied, feeling the need to counter, though I was doing just that.
“Good. So answer the question,” he said.
“There was a question on the floor?” I asked.
He lifted one corner of his mouth, and for a split second, I recognized my old friend. But just as quickly, the recognition was gone, replaced by this dangerous stranger and the fear that spiked when he pointed his gun at my face.
“Yes, there was,” he said, sounding calm, though something about his eyes told me the heightened tension wasn’t lost on him. “Do you want to stay alive?”
“What the fuck kind of question is that?” I was practically shrieking, even though I was determined to stay calm.
“A question that you’re going to answer. Right now.”
His voice was quiet, but then again, there was no need to be loud. That fucking gun was conveying his message loud and clear.
“Yes, whatever your name is. I obviously want to stay alive.”
“Then you’ll forget about this. Everything you seen. Everything you’ve been looking into. It goes away. Poof.”
“I guess I won’t bother to ask what will happen if it doesn’t,” I said, refusing to look at the gun again.
“You need not ask. Because you know.”
He held my gaze for several long seconds and then looked down. Against my better judgment, I followed his gaze to where it rested on the gun. It seemed unnaturally bright, and as I stared at it, my heart sped, the reality of this moment, of what was happening, hitting me all over again.
