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I take one slow step after another toward Cal, determination growing in me the closer I get. When I’m within a few feet of him, I can see the fire burning in his dark eyes, and the muscles in his jaw are flexing.
He’s not happy to see me.
My excitement deflates at this realization. I’ve made a mistake, a massive error in judgment, and now I’ll face the consequences.
Eleven
~Declan~
My first reaction when I see her is that she’s stunningly beautiful in the light. More so than I thought her to be in the darkened interior of her car that night we converged under the bridge to seal the deal.
Then my brain kicks in and tells me that my response to her is strictly biological. It can’t be helped. A natural reaction between a man and a woman, the recognition of a potential suitable mate for the purposes of procreation. But I don’t intend to procreate in this lifetime, and I sure as hell don’t plan on doing it with someone I’ve struck a deal to murder another person with.
“Hi.” Her demure greeting and the way she flutters those long lashes immediately incites my anger.
I grit my teeth to the point they might crack, but I don’t give a flying fuck. “What thehellare you doing here?”
I spit the question, but the most imperative one is why the hell am I not wrapping my hands around her spindly little neck and squeezing the life out of her? She’s crossed a major line. Followed me home. Watched me for who knows how long. Showed up on my doorstep looking as sweet as the chocolate I crave to devour.
She. Should. Pay.
With death.
But I don’t act on what I know I should do. Rather, I stand here, awaiting an answer that I know will be unacceptable, no matter what it is, and knowing I won’t do a damn thing about it.
I don’t like where this line of thinking is headed. I loathe that I’ve discovered a weak spot in my armor. I especially hate that she is the one who put it there—a woman, a client, a stranger who has no business in my life.
Like John, she is a problem hinting at my potential downfall. The catalyst.
But worse.
I can’t tolerate this infraction, this blatant disregard for the rules.
Brenda is unsure of herself, though she fakes confidence with pulled back shoulders and a soft smile.
“I know I shouldn’t be here, but I had to see you.”
There’s something in her voice that tells me this isn’t about her husband. Or maybe in some twisted way it is.
Rage pours through me so acute, I wouldn’t be surprised if steam shot out of my nose and ears. Shaking inside, I grab ahold of her upper arm and, ignoring her squeak of surprise and probably pain, I tow her back to my room.
My key goes in the lock, it clicks, and I slam the door open so hard it hits the wall and ricochets back as we walk through, hitting my shoulder. Ignoring the sting of the injury that will leave a bruise, I swing her behind me as I turn and close the door with equal force, flipping the row of five locks I installed for added security.
Never know when someone will want to kill the killer.
“I-I’m sorry,” Brenda is stuttering, her nervousness finally surfacing. She should be nervous. I’m not one to be screwed with.
I turn to face her, and her eyes widen. I can just imagine the monster she must see in me. Too bad she didn’t see him before she decided to come here.
“I told you no contact. Period.”
“I know.” Her hands rise in front of her as if to placate the monster in me. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I know you’ve…seen me.” She lowers her voice as if imparting a secret.
“You mean when you strip in front of the window.” I don’t bother to hide my irritation. She knew what she was doing, and her admission is just further confirmation of what I’d already suspected to be true.
She’s been playing with me.
A vibrant, rosy pink colors her pale cheeks, and she looks down at her feet. “You watched me. You liked what you saw?”
