My stomach jumps, my heart skips around in anticipation. “The guy who shot Huntley?”
“Yep. He’s here waiting for you.”
I turn to look at the door in the direction of my bedroom. I’ve never left Huntley alone in the apartment. I haven’t left him alone since we met. Bringing him to work where he’s out of my sight is different. There are security cameras there. Voss has already patched me in, so I can look at him any time I want.
If I take care of this guy, I’ll be leaving him alone. Entirely alone. For hours.
“I’ll be there in a bit.”
“Kay. See ya later.”
I pocket my phone and head for the door, but my feet stick. Sighing, I turn back for the tower of towels and bring them with me. It’s honestly silly to leave them here when I walk by the bathroom, where they belong, on my way to Huntley.
He looks toward me as soon as I step into the bedroom, a smile on his face. He’s lounging in bed watching television with his laptop in his lap. He’s adorable. Seeing him there makes my heart race.
I return his smile on my way to the linen closet, then join him on the bed. Huntley mutes the television as soon as I sit in front of him.
“You asked me if the person who shot you had been caught.” Huntley nods, setting his computer aside. “He’s been caught.”
He inhales. “Are they putting him in jail?”
Seconds tick by like hours as I hold his stare, an internal debate on what I need to tell him. Eventually, I settle on the truth. “No. The police don’t have him.”
Huntley looks confused. “Then…”
“My crew has him.”
“And you’re not going to turn him in?”
“I’m not. I’m going to kill him.”
He inhales sharply, eyes almost comically wide now, and jaw hanging as he stares. I don’t say anything as he processes my words. His mouth works, forming different shapes as he works on finding words. It’s several minutes before he manages to find some.
His voice comes out in a squeak. “You’re going to kill him? You specifically?”
I nod. “You’re in pain every day because of him. Ideally, I’d like to keep him alive and in pain until you’re able to walk again without pain, but I don’t have the patience for that.”
“You’re going to get caught,” he says, and fear fills his eyes.
I realize he hadn’t been afraid of my announcing that I’m about to kill a man. He’s afraid for my safety. Warmth fills my chest. I’m not sure someone has worried about me like that before.
“I won’t get caught.”
“You’ll cover your face, right?”
“No, he’s going to look at me as he dies.”
“But he’ll be able to identify you!” His tone rises with his worry.
I grip his hand. “Ghosts tell no tales. He won’t get away. He won’t live long enough to turn me in. I won’t get caught.”
“But—”
My hand cups his cheek, feeling his soft skin with the beginning of evening fuzz. “Huntley, trust me. I promise I won’t get caught.”
He swallows, giving me a nervous nod.
“I’m telling you because I don’t want you to wake up in the night alone and be concerned when you can’t find me. I’ll behome before morning light, and the man who shot you will be dead.”
