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Cara lets out a heavy breath and pushes up from the edge of my bed. “Yeah, you’re right,” she says, striding across my room to the door. She takes the handle and pulls it wide, peering out into the hallway before thinking better of it. “You know what, you seem braver than me. Maybe you should go first.”
My jaw drops. I hadn’t even thought about that, but now that I have, the thought is ingrained deep in my brain, sending shockwaves of fear pulsing through my body. I hold my hand out. “Rock, paper, scissors goes first.”
She clenches her jaw before finally holding out her hand. “Shit.”
Ten seconds later, I creep out of my bedroom first with Cara all but glued to my back. We slink out into the living room, my gaze sweeping from left to right and the moment the front door comes into view, I scan over every single one of the locks, making sure they’re exactly how I left them.
“There,” Cara says with a gasp, pointing toward the living room window. “The blinds, look. They’re not straight. It’s like someone’s climbed through them.”
My brows furrow as we dart across to the kitchen, checking over the window. My hand snaps out and grips the cord for the blinds, and with a ferocious tug, the Venetians rise to the top of the window frame. Reaching for the window, I find the lock has been messed with. “Holy shit,” I breathe. “Someone really did break in here.”
“Oh God,” Cara cries, her hands in her hair as she paces back and forth through the kitchen. “Oh God, oh God, oh God. I can’t handle this.”
“It’s okay. I have plenty of cash from my tips last night. We’ll call a locksmith and get the lock replaced before my shift tonight. We’ll be okay. This is clearly just someone trying to leave me some kind of message. I just wish I knew what it was. But now the message has been left, they won’t come back again.”
“How do you know that?” she cries, not trusting my reasoning one bit, and to be completely honest, I don’t trust it either. “You can’t go to work tonight and leave me here by myself. What if this guy is some kind of messed-up serial killer who gets off on raping college girls and then guts them?”
“Fuck, thanks for that visual,” I say, shaking my head, feeling as lost as ever. “Look, I can’t cancel work this early. I had to fight for this job and promised that I was trustworthy. I can’t risk screwing it up so quickly. But just come with me. Call a few friends and sit in the bar while I work and after I close, we can walk home together.”
“Okay,” she says, looking nervous. “And until then?”
“Until then . . . we pretend we’re not fucking terrified and go about our day as though nothing happened. Whoever this asshole is, he’s not going to get the best of us.”
Her eyes are wide as she stops pacing and gapes back at me. “Really?” she questions. “Because I don’t know about you, but I’m damn sure he’s already got the best of me.”
“We’re going to be okay,” I tell her, not trusting it one bit. “Go and have a hot shower and calm down, and while you do that, I’ll organize the locksmith.”
Cara lets out a heavy breath, her cheeks blowing out in the process, and without another word, she takes off to the bathroom. With Cara occupied, I scurry back to my room, scooping my phone off my bedside table, and as I search for a locksmith, I can’t help but glance up at the calling card again.
This really is messed up.
Finding the number for a locksmith, I hit call and wedge the phone between my ear and shoulder before striding back to my door. As the phone rings, I find myself reaching up to the dagger and curling my fingers around the hilt. It’s so sleek and cool with intricate designs etched into the blade. It almost looks ancient, as though someone spent way too many hours working on this thing by hand.
I yank it out of the back of my door, gripping the calling card with my other hand as it comes free. I bring the card closer to my face, scanning over every inch of it. The glossy E stands out on the black background, and I hate to admit it, but the card is almost sexy. It’s alluring and draws me in, making me wonder what secrets it possesses. What the hell does the E stand for and where did it come from? Who left it here, and why is it important that I received it?
Flipping the card over, I scan the back just to check I’m not missing any important clues, but it’s blank, giving absolutely nothing away. The locksmith’s voice sounds through the phone, and I discard the card on my bedside table before getting busy booking him. I breathe a sigh of relief when he confirms our appointment for this afternoon, and before I know it, Cara is out of the shower and I’m getting in right after her.
The afternoon drags by as we wait for the locksmith to arrive. We don’t mention the card or the dagger, but simply sit in silence, willing this bullshit to just go away. I don’t need drama in my life. I had plenty of that in Missouri with my ex, and I was more than happy to leave him behind.
I hear the sound of a motorbike on the street and find myself creeping toward the living room window. The rumble is so loud, I feel the vibrations through the ground and right up into my chest. Peering out the window, a soft smile pulls at the corners of my lips, finding none other than Dalton Eros.
Last night he was covered in shadows as I talked to him in the darkness, but now, in the light of day, I see it all. He’s not just gorgeous, he’s delicious. Tall, muscled, and holy hell, the smoldering thing is even better than I remember. Dark pants and a black shirt hug his body, and I find myself desperate to tear it off him with my teeth.
Dalton straddles a black Harley, looking like sex on legs, and everything deep in my core clenches.
I’m in trouble.
It’s one thing meeting an alluring stranger out in the street but seeing him straddling a bike like that is my weakness. I don’t know how he did it, but in one fell swoop, Dalton Eros has found my kryptonite and isn’t afraid to use it against me.
My mouth waters, and as if sensing my stare, Dalton glances toward my living room window. A short moment of panic tears at my chest, and I consider running for my goddamn life, but what’s the point? He’s seen me now. I might as well own it. Besides, a man like that knows what kind of effect he has on women.
Dalton holds my stare, and there’s something raw in his eyes, something that has me ready to fuck him right there out in the street. As if he’s reading the wicked thoughts ripping through my mind, a sly grin pulls across his lips. He winks and I just about die.
Holy fuck. I’m not just in trouble, I’m as good as dead.
This man will get whatever he wants from me, and I’ll give it up willingly before begging for more.
He reaches for the handlebar and pulls back on it, revving the engine and letting the sound rumble recklessly through the quiet street. The sound is deafening, but damn, it’s doing something to me I wasn’t expecting. I’m dripping wet, and the realization of just how far I’d go to get what I need from this man almost drops me to my knees.
