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Too much has happened today, and I’m reeling from all of it, unable to get my head on straight and think for myself. Which is the only reason why I actually do as the man—who is practically a stranger!—says. I guess it won’t matter if I stay at his place for a few days until I figure out what to do next.
Moving on autopilot while my brain spins at a hundred miles an hour, I pull open my drawers and start throwing stuff into a bag. I don’t even know what I’m putting in there. For all I know, it’s nothing but underwear, yet I can’t bring myself to care. I’m just numb. So. Freaking. Numb.
“Ready?” David asks, stepping into my room. I’m not sure how long has passed. Minutes? Hours? In a daze, I nod my head, and he grabs the bag from my bed before placing a palm against the center of my back and ushering me forward. “Do you have your phone on you?”
“Ehh. It’s in my purse, in the kitchen.” Beside the grocery bags I never put away and the wine I’ll never get to drink. Wine I could seriously fucking do with right about now.
“Okay. Good.” He doesn’t elaborate more than that as we cross the living room. As we pass thecrime scene, I notice the finger and box are conveniently missing, and a rug that I had placed in front of the sofa has been moved to hide the bloodstains.Well, I guess that’s easier than trying to scrub them out.
David only leaves my side to quickly grab something from the kitchen, but I’m in too much of a daze to take in whatever he’s doing.
Stepping into the hall, I expect him to direct me toward his apartment next door to mine, but instead, he applies pressure to my back, pushing me toward the emergency stairwell. Digging my heels in, I lift my head to look at him. “Uh, where are we going?”
“Somewhere where you’ll be safe.”
“Ehhh…” Going anywhere alone with a stranger is a big no-no. One of those things my mom ingrained into me from a young age. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t go anywhere with strangers. Don’t accept food from strangers. And yet, as he gives me a little nudge, I find my feet moving toward the stairwell. I mean, there are strangers and then there are handsome, helpful in a crisis, friendly neighbor strangers. David has never set alarm bells ringing in my head, and given the fact my options are currently either staying here and probably getting stabbed to death by some crazy psycho or leaving with David… I think I’d rather take option number two, please.
Chapter2
EMILIA
“So… where are we going?” I repeat, once I’m sitting inside the confines of a luxury sedan.
David pulls out onto the street before he responds. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather wait a bit longer before telling you that.”
Okay, so now those alarm bells are starting to go off… a little too fucking late!
I slowly edge toward the side of the car, wanting to put as much distance between us as I can within the small space. “Why?” I question warily, working hard to keep the panic out of my voice.
My eyes are glued to his face, reading his expression, so I don’t miss when he grimaces. “You’re just… It’s better if we wait.”
What the hell does that even mean?!
My brain scrambles to figure out what the hell is going on and how the fuck I got myself into this situation. “Oh my god,” I gasp as a thought strikes. “Y-you’re the one who left the box on my doorstep. Aren’t you?” My shoulders rise and fall as I begin to hyperventilate, quickly spiraling into the throes of a panic attack. “Oh, my god, you killed Richard. And now you’re going to kill me.” The world outside the window fills with black splotches as tunnel vision sets in, and a whooshing sound in my ears distorts any other noise around me.
“What?!” David balks, taking his eyes off the road to gape at me. “No! God, no! That is not… Fucking hell, Emilia.” He swipes a hand down his face, and even in the midst of my meltdown, I’m still with it enough to note the look of absolute horror on his face. “No, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m just trying to look out for you. I’vebeenlooking out for you.”
His cryptic words do nothing to shine a light on the situation, and I get momentarily distracted as he pulls off the road onto a private airstrip. We approach a hangar where people are busy working on refueling a plane and getting it ready to fly, by the looks of things.
My confusion only heightens as we pull to a stop and David gets out, coming around the front of the car to open my door. I’m seriously regretting not taking my chances with the crazy psycho as I hesitantly step out, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. Seriously, I always obeyed my mom’s rules, andnowI choose to break what has got to be one of the most important ones?!
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
He places his hand in the middle of my back again, and even though I’m freaking out, the heat from his palm is strangely reassuring as he ushers me forward. Turning to take in the luxury jet before me, I stumble over my feet when I notice the large owl painted on the tail.
“Um, why is Hadley’s plane here?”
Hadley Davenport. My best friend. The one whose fiancé and brother I slept with.
“Just keep walking. I’ll explain it all on board.”
Feeling a little more reassured that he’s in some way connected to Hadley and maybe not my crazy finger-leaving psycho, I don’t argue as I climb the steps onto the plane.
“Wow.” I whistle as I take in the plush interior. The comfy leather chairs look like they belong in a fancy hotel or nightclub rather than on a plane. Giving the flight attendant a weak, exhausted smile, I move to claim one of the cozy-looking seats by the window.
David moves to sit beside me, but I ignore him as I stare out the window, watching as the men finish fueling the plane and they pack up their equipment before the doors are closed as we’re waved out of the hangar. I remain quiet, deep in thought, as we accelerate down the runway and lift into the air until the flight attendant approaches.
“Can I get either of you a drink?” she asks in that polite, professional tone all good customer service people have perfected.
