“Oh yeah? Have your own party to go to?” he asks.
“Yeah, my roommate should be here any minute,” I lie.
“Seems like you’re trying to get rid of me,” he goes on.
“And it seems like you either aren’t good at recognizing social cues, or you don’t like to be told ‘no,’” I snap. “One of those is excusable and the other will get you a swift spray of pepper to the face. Want to take a guess which is which?”
He scoffs and finally takes his hand from the door. “Okay, drummer girl.” He holds his hands up. “It’s just a friendly conversation.”
“Dude, you put your hand in my door,” I say. “The line of ‘friendly conversation’ flew out the door the second you ignored my first ‘see you around.’ Try that shit again, and I won’t hesitate to break your fingers.”
His grin widens, and he begins backing away. “I’m glad we met.See you around.”
I shut the door before he gets the bright fucking idea to come at me again. The top lock clicks, yet still I don’t move from the door, listening for his footsteps in case he decides the encounter wasn’t enough.
You’re being fucking paranoid.
Except my bad vibes radar usually isn’t wrong.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GEMMA
Bonnie already hadme wrapped around her fucking fingers, yet now… god,now. Between her vulnerability and flirting over the last few days, and now this little bratty act?
I love it.
It’s such a more interesting development than the sad apartment I’m currently walking around in. Jeff, also known asshesatrackstar1988, could come home at any moment, and then… then the funreallystarts.
Upbeat alt music blasts in my headphones that has me moving around his apartment with more pep in my step than any normal person should have as they wait to make someone cry, beg, and piss themselves. Still, it helps me get out of my head and reduces my rage to a manageable level.
I pick up a pair of discarded underwear with a metal straw and throw them on the floor.Ugh. This place is disgusting. Not just untidy like Bonnie’s place, this isactuallydisgusting. The smell of old pizza boxes and garbage leeching into his living room from the kitchen makes me want to hurl.
His computer setup is the most impressive thing in the entire space. It looks much like Kade’s—more than the security monitors Kade put up in my place.
I’m curious if this guy is actually any good, and if he is… why the hell is he wasting his talents catfishing women on dating apps?
Of course, I know the answer.
Probably the only way he gets women to talk to him.
Fucking creep.
I prop my ass on the edge of his desk and swivel his chair back and forth with my foot as I plot my move for when he gets here, even checking out a few of the old photos on the wall behind the monitor. My standard routine is set up and ready—chloroform rag, zip ties… The duffle bag on the floor is full of fun surprises that I’ve used over the years… Gags. Fingernail pliers. Knives… I haven’t used many of the tools since even beforethatnight. After that… I put all of them away and told myself I wouldn’t use this force again unless Bonnie found herself in the same kind of trouble.
It should never have happened the first time.
Trouble always finds her.
“—things to check up on, but I’ll call—”
Shit.
I get to my feet and pull the ventilated half-mask up over my mouth and nose as the guy comes inside and sets his groceries on the counter, then hangs up his phone. A video starts playing the moment he lays it on the counter, and I roll my eyes at the so-called political podcaster’s voice.
I grab the ready-soaked rag from my bag. He’s whistling and laughing at something on the phone, oblivious to his surroundings as I move down his hallway toward the door. He still doesn’t hear me when I’m standing behind him, and I take the opportunity to size him up, deciding how best to handle him once he starts fighting.
Here we go.
