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Maybe I won’t have to call Michael after all. Or maybe he’s lying.
“Why would you do that? What’s in it for you?”
How the hell can I trust this lunatic? What’s wrong with me?
“Do you always question a gift when it’s handed to you?”
“Of course.” I hike up my chin.
“Good girl.”
I swear, if I could see beneath his mask, I know he’d still be smirking.
“Now get me some hydrogen peroxide, lots of water, and a pair of gloves while I grab some bleach and plastic to wrap him in,” he demands.
I look around, not seeing any. “Where is it?”
“Well, obviously not here.” He chuckles. “Going to get it from my car while you do what I asked.”
The better question would be why he has bleach and plastic in his car to begin with. Then again… Heisin a mask and terrifying as hell.
“What will you do to him?” I peer over at the body.
“Nothing you need to worry about. Now go before your bodyguard shows up. And I don’t really want to kill him. Unless you want me to.”
I shake my head. “No, he’s fine. He’s not like them.”
And he’s currently pissed off at me, if the text messages burning a hole in my pocket are any indication.
“Lucky him, then.”
I wish this stranger would take off that mask so I could see his face. I want to know what he looks like. Want to see his mouth move as he smiles.
I pinch my thighs together. I’m sick. The thoughts running through my head would shame the Kayla I used to be.
But I’m no longer her, am I? Not since they took me. Ruined me. Now, I’m barbaric, wanting things I can never say out loud, especially to a man.
If I’m being honest, I like his mask. Want him to throw me on the floor and wear it as he fucks me.
My God, I’m sick.
The men from my past would wear masks too…
Is that why I like his? Because I’m twisted that way?
But theirs were pretty. Deceiving. His is not. He isn’t hiding. He’s showing me who he is.
“What’s with the stupid mask?” I blurt out, needing a distraction from my intrusive thoughts.
“You’re not scared of it?” I hear the mockery, like he enjoys the fact that I’m not.
“Scared? No.” I slowly shake my head. “Seen monsters scarier than that.”
“So have I,” he whispers, and for a moment, there’s something raw in it. Something real and honest…and sad.
Though I can’t see his eyes, I feel them, and my heart slams in my chest.
What were his monsters like?
