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What did they take from him?
Every part of me itches to ask him. To know. To feel.
But instead, I rush out of there and into my bathroom. With my back against the wall, I close my eyes and temper my breathing, needing to be okay before I head back out.
The door slams shut while I stay here wondering…
What am I even doing caring about this psychopath? I mean, heisa psycho. Who else wears a mask like that and isn’t even fazed by a dead body?
Shit. It hits me now.
Is he stalking me? He must be. What are the chances of him just showing up here? Oh my God. I have a stalker, don’t I?
This is just great! A bodyguardanda stalker. How did a girl get so lucky?
Not even a minute later, I hear him return.
Grabbing the things he asked for, plus some thick yellow gloves for each of us and towels from the closet, I force myself toward the exit.
I drop everything gently on the floor as soon as I’m out.
“Here.” I hand him his pair of gloves, holding on to mine.
He zips his line of vision to my hands.
“What?” I snicker. “Thought I’d let you do it alone?”
He chuckles all deep, and my stomach dives, heat sprouting between my thighs once again, like a flame that won’t simply put out. I hate it and love it at the same time.
“My, my, little wolf. You just keep surprising me.”
“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”
“That’s ’cause it is.”
I stare at him, and through the mask, I just know he’s staring right back.
He drops a jug of something that readsoxygen detergent. As he slips on his gloves, I pick it up, examining it.
“What’s this?”
“Ah, I see my little murderess hasn’t read the latest on forensics.”
“I’m sorry we’re not all career murderers like you, apparently. Promise to do better next time,” I scoff.
“No, you won’t,” he chuckles, his leathery rasp sending an electric chill up my spine. “But that’s because you don’t plan it out. You just do it. That’s when mistakes happen.”
I hate to admit how right he is.
“So, will you enlighten me on your secret weapon, or should I guess?”
His silence greets me for a moment before he goes on. “This is a special type of bleach. Not the chlorine kind, which makes blood stains invisible, yet will still show the presence of hemoglobin. Oxygen-based bleach erases all traces of it, leaving no evidence.”
“Wow…” I say almost sarcastically. “You really are a murderer.”
“You sound pretty judgey for a woman who just killed a man. Two, I might add.”
“Touché.” My mouth quirks up, and I pause, staring quietly at him for a few moments. “Will you show me your face?”
