AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As with ninety-nine percent of the population, I don’t trust him.
Having regained some semblance of composure, I turn back around and fix the Devil with a hard stare.
“Why would you want to help me?”
“Do I need a reason to help a beautiful woman in distress?”
“No thanks,” I say icily. “I can handle it.”
Surprise flashes across his face, then it breaks into that easy smile again. He leans back against his palms, revealing a tight-fitting shirt under his jacket. The fabric stretches over a hard stomach.
Jesus. Stop looking.
Why does he act like he has all the time in the world? Like this crime scene isn’t a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode and destroy my life. And now that he’s inserted himself into it, it could destroy his, too. “You can handle it,” he repeats, amber eyes twinkling. “Okay. What are you going to do?”
“Uh, well, first, I’ll move him—”
“You’ll move him.” His eyes mock me. “Okay. Let’s pretend that he’s not twice your height and weight. The shade of the blood on his back shows he’s been dead about an hour. You have another thirty minutes before he starts to go stiff. Ever tried to move a stiff body?” He chuckles. “It’s like trying to move a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound ironing board.” Strumming his fingers against his thigh, he says, “Next idea?”
Annoyance prickles at my skin. The contrast between us is fire and ice.
My eyes fly to the lighter I dropped on the floor when he knocked, and I bend to snatch it up. “I’ll start a fire. See that cigar? I’ll light it, then drop it onto that puddle of rum there. It’ll look like we fell asleep drunk and accidentally set the room alight.” Yes. The idea slides into my head, almost fully formed. I pace the marble with newfound energy. “I wake up to the heat of the flames and the smell of smoke. I try to wake him up, but he’s out cold. Maybe he’s already inhaled too much smoke. Anyway, he’s too heavy for me to move. I run out into the corridor and—”
The man lifts his hand, cutting me off. I hate how quickly I stop talking.
“The average temperature of a common fire is a notch over six-hundred degrees. It takes double that heat to effectively cremate a body.” He pushes himself off the desk and swaggers over to the bed. Using the same pen he picked up the towel with, he pokes the man’s arm, sticking the tip into an open scratch mark. I can’t help but look away. “It’s not like the movies, sweetheart. You won’t be left with a pile of ashes and get off scot-free. It’ll burn a little flesh, but all of the evidence will still be there.” There’s that smirk again. “Even NYPD’s dumbest officer would suspect foul play.”
Sweetheart.That and the patronizing tone he uses to make my blood boil. Another penny drops.
“Then I’ll blame you, sweetheart,” I say, sickly sweet. For the first time, I stride around the bed with confidence, drinking in the chaos I caused. “Picture this: Innocent woman—”
“Whore,” he interrupts, amusement dancing on his lips.
I swallow my retort, refusing to rise to it. “Okay, innocent whore, then. I was in bed with my…” My eyes flick over to the bed. “Client. You burst in, tell him to give you all of his money. He refuses, there’s a… fight, and then you kill him.” I drop a hip, satisfied with my new alibi. I make my bottom lip quiver and widen my eyes. “Oh, I was so scared, officer!”
“Hmm.” He pops his knuckles as he considers this. “Quite the little actress. You almost had me convinced. You’re overlooking one key factor, though.”
“And that is?”
He closes the gap between us, and I stop breathing. His scent snakes up my nostrils, a mix of leather and expensive cologne. I have the strange urge to melt into it. Instead, I curl my fingernails into my palms and force myself to hold my ground. He lowers his lips to the shell of my ear, his beard bristling my bloodstained cheek. “Do I look like a man who bites and scratches?”
His syrupy voice ripples through my nervous system. Ugh, Romy. Not the time, place, nor person.
But no, he doesn’t. He looks like a man who has never had to fight to survive because nobody would be brave enough to test him.
I swallow the ever-present lump in my throat and drag my eyes up to his citrine whirlpools, punctuated with the blackest pupils I’ve ever seen.
He whispers, “Do you hear that?” Straining my ears, all I can hear is the rushing of blood in my temples and the rain hammering against the floor-to-ceiling windows. I shake my head. “Close your eyes and try harder.”
I narrow them instead. But when his glare darkens, I do as I’m told. This time, I can pick apart more noises. The wind whips around the building. Cars honk their horns in the streets below.
Sirens.
My eyes pop open in panic, and I’m greeted by that dazzling grin. “We’re in New York, for Christ’s sake,” I hiss, stepping out of his reach. “Sirens are practically white noise.”
“You think I’m the only person who saw you walk out into the corridor, dripping in blood? In a hotel this size, there’ll be cameras everywhere. Maybe the front desk saw you on their monitors. Maybe they’ve already called the police.” I didn’t think he could get closer to me, but he does. He tucks a stray hair behind my ear, the cold metal strap of his watch grazing my cheek. “Maybe, they are already coming for you.”
My heartbeat stutters. When my mouth opens and closes again just as quick, the Devil’s handsome face breaks into a satisfied smirk.
