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Kat: Behave!
Heat curls in my stomach.
Styx: With you? Never. I’ll see you as soon as I can get away.
Kat: I’ll be waiting.
I close out of the text thread and contemplate texting Ryder. But I know he’s out of town visiting his brother. His Mom called this afternoon and said Ricky was having a bad day and Ryder being Ryder took off without hesitation.
He’s a good guy. One of the best I know. And I can’t stop thinking about him.
HimandStyx.
Digging the spoon into the ice cream, I eat my feelings as I watch some reality TV show about the housewives of Beverly Hills.
Sooner than I expect, my eyes grow heavy, so I dump the ice cream on the table, snuggle into Styx’s ridiculously comfy couch and pull the blanket up over me.
He’ll wake me up when he gets home and hopefully carry me to bed.
* * *
Iwake with a start, my heart crashing against my chest.
“What the—” It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to my unfamiliar surroundings and then I remember, I’m at Styx’s house.
Grabbing my cell phone off the coffee table I check the time. Almost one-thirty.
“So much for getting away earlier,” I murmur. There’s two texts from Styx apologizing, saying he’ll be home as soon as he’s dealt with a stockroom disaster at the club.
I rub my eyes. There’s no point in staying here. I might as well go to bed and wait for him there.
I clean up my mess and dump everything in the kitchen before getting a glass of water, and head down the hall toward the back of the house. But something snags my attention and I freeze, listening for it again.
Knocking.
Weird.
I double back and retrace my steps to the kitchen and feel it then. A draft coming from the back door.
The slightly ajar back door.
“Shit.” Panic rushes up my throat as I fumble with my phone to call Styx.
But it rings out so I quickly text him and then dial my brother.
“Not so fast, girlie.” Someone grabs me from behind, my phone clattering to the floor as I’m ripped backward.
“What the f—”
The glint of a switchblade catches my eye as the intruder presses it against my throat.
“I’m going to need you to be nice and quiet,” he says. “Do you understand?”
I suck in a thin breath, trying to keep as still as a post, the blade resting on my skin.
One wrong move and I know how this story ends.
Fear floods every inch of me as the intruder moves me over to one of the chairs and sits me down.
