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Well, now I feel like an ass.
“Who’s at the door?” a man calls, and she seems to startle, alarm filling her face swiftly.
“I have to go. I’ll be back on Monday, sir.” The door slams in my face, and I’m left trying to regain my composure before turning around and heading back toward the car.
“Well?” Conner asks. He now has the window closed and Ken doll has moved back to his own house, watching us like a hawk from where he curls dumbbells.
“She said she called HR and that she’s sick,” I recount, looking back toward the house.
On the second floor, a curtain moves as a dark figure pulls out of the fissure.
Odd.
Everything about her seems vexing as fuck, and I wonder if that fuels my fascination with her. She’s like a magical creature, known for her illusive nature and mystique.
“Well, you made an ass out of yourself, hm?” Conner says, waving to the muscle-bound man across the street as we pull off from her curb. “Twat,” he mumbles.
I smirk.
The entire ride home my mind is full of thoughts of what to do about her. The only thing there is to do is to leave her alone, obviously she has a man in her life. She doesn’t need me barging in and fucking shit up for her.
She’d seemed so available when I was in her home, though. Everything told me she was a single female, living alone. It makes no sense. But, acting in this manner and getting this entangled over the woman makes no sense, either.
I decide to focus on what matters in my life. What’s at the forefront. And leave the past where it needs to be.
Including Carina Eder.
CHAPTERNINE
Carina
Night of First Contact
“Well, what should we do about that information, hm?” my stalker asks, looking down at me, his radiant, blue eyes glimmering in the moonlight. Something about him is dark and dangerous, and his touch has me vibrating with need. I don’t understand it at all.
Dark and dangerous? He’s a stalker!
My brain sobers me, reminding me of the serious nature of my situation.
“What do you mean?” I ask, realizing his eyes are darkening by the second the longer I don’t give him an answer.
“What are we going to do about your excitement toward me?” he asks, patience growing thinner and thinner.
I swallow, and I feel his hand flinch over my throat.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
He’s been watching me, stalking my every move in the night, and here I am buzzing with anticipation of what he’ll do next.
“Well, you’re mine to command, it looks like. Doesn’t it seem that way, little one?”
My eyes flick toward the window, to where Ryker’s house is only yards away. To where help lies in his bed. The man’s hand slowly inches up and snaps my face back toward his, his eyes darkening. Even though the moon is all that illuminates the space between us, I can almost see the danger dripping from him, as if it’s his very aura. As if he’s death himself. Come for my soul.
“Detective Dickhead isn’t coming to help you tonight, little one.” His voice is filled with malice. It feels like magic tingling against every nerve ending I have.
Another rush of heat licks my insides as his penetrating gaze bores into mine.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” I whisper, swallowing past his tight grasp on my throat. He tightens it, leaning in and fanning his whiskey-scented breath across my lips.
