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I could get a job.
I almost laughed at the image of me in some fast food uniform, apron stained with grease. Ava Jade wielding a stainless steel spatula like a weapon of mass destruction. Slaying burgers all day.
We could do it.
If she wanted.
I flicked a fresh brush over Jericho’s lash line, pretending I was painting literally anyone else as I filled in his short lashes.
A door opened outside my room, and my heart lifted, paint brush stilling in my hand as I listened keenly.
I’d already run out there four times thinking I might’ve heard Ava Jade come in only to be disappointed. I wasn’t going out there again. Not to have Axel fuss over me and ask me tenmoretimes if I wanted to talk.
The low rumble of two male voices came muffled through my door and I sagged, discarding the paint brush on my duvet to push my hair away from my face with a huff.
I stared down at the painting, deciding it was as good as it was going to get. I snatched it up, accidentally tossing the covers over the still wet paints. Shit.
A loud thud outside made me jump, my pulse skittering.
I rushed to the door, but my hand paused on the handle, listening to what was unmistakably the sounds of a struggle on the other side. An icy cold stole over my chest, and I held my breath.
Another crash.
Axel cursing.
I couldn’t move.
Couldn’t think.
Shit. Fuck.
No.
No. No.No.
“Becca, get out of here!” came Axel’s roaring command from the other side of the door, and I broke free of the ice coating my skin. My hand shook where it held the painting.
I dashed for my bed and the phone I’d left there, but the unmistakable sound of a silenced gunshot whispered in my ears and I stopped.
The painting.
What if…
Oh god.
I looked around, the panic a raging storm in my chest. A drumbeat echo in my skull.
I raced back across the room, my stare fixed on the massive self-portrait hanging on my wall. My shaking fingers lifted the base of the canvas and I shoved the sheet of paper with Jericho’s face on it into the hollow behind the painting, running back to my bed.
Phone.
I threw the duvet cover back, rustling in the heavy fabric to find it, a scream rising in my chest.
Where the fuck was my…
The door to my room opened, and I froze, my legs heavier than lead as I looked up. Fingers of dread crawled up the back of my neck as I recognized the man beneath the mask. Behind the contact lenses. Under the dye coating each strand of his hair. I’d know that smirk anywhere.
“Miss me, darlin?’ ”
