Everett snarled. “I got them fromyourstorage unit.” He paused a moment. “Stop hacking into my fucking shit.”
“I could place my own upgraded cameras in here,” he hummed, causing my eyes to widen, “I’ve done so with the last two, but alas, too much work. These will do, I suppose. Ta-ta for now. Until we meet again, rose, perhaps with less people. Everett’s gotten a taste of that pretty little cunt, but he’s not the only one who can collect a debt.”
My rage exploded.
I shot a look at Lucy, jerking my chin towards the door.
She ran, snarling and snapping.
I heard the door shut.
Lucy hit it, clawing and scraping barking savagely.
I slipped out from behind Everett and found his eyes, the anger beating through me in waves. Cameras?Cameras?He put cameras in my goddamn house!
He shoved his gun away and only spared me half a glance, bored. “Don’t be so shocked, we do our jobs well.”
I turned to Evelyn in question.
She walked over. “I told you my brothers are difficult. Here.” She pulled out my phone from her back pocket. “I charged it for you.”
My glare eased when I saw my phone in her hand. The screen was already lit up, messages from Katie and my mom littered the screen, but nothing from Steven. Why would there be? He was dismembered. I had seen his heart. Seen the blood. I had seen it all.
Slowly, I reached out and took it from her. Nothing from the police. I stared at it for a long time before turning back to Everett who was shutting the cupboards he had left open and heading for the fridge. “I don’t want to go to prison,” I finally said, my voice chilling even to my own ears, my cheeks stinging at the stretch of the words.
Lucy looked over at the sound of my voice, her ears perked.
Everett stopped for less than half a second before he pulled things from the fridge. I had seen it though. I had seen the way his body tensed at the sound of my cracked, unused voice. Like the sound had answered something for him that he never wanted answered. “We don’t get caught.”
Four words. Four simple words, and while I had heard them, written them, dozens of times before, hearing them come from his mouth was reassuring. It allowed my shoulders to relax a bit. Allowed me to release a breath.
“We don’t get caught.”
“How much have you written in the last five days?” he asked, pulling out a pan.
I glanced over to my laptop, suddenly exhausted. “Why does it matter?” I asked bitterly.
“Everyone has a deadline. How much?”
“None,” I stated coldly. “I’m never writing again.”
His eyes lifted, chilling. “Oh? Because your stories came to life? That’s a stupid reason to give up on something you actually care about.”
“I don’t care about it. I’m fine without it.”
He cracked an egg before meeting my eyes again, his shoulders tensing. “I don’t coddle, that’s something you need to understand clearly. Allow yourself to want it. Allow yourself to wantsomething.”
“I want you.”
I shook the thought away just as soon as it came and narrowedmy eyes. “Why? Because I’ll get it? Because everything will work out for my own good if I just believe hard enough?” I said in a mocking tone. “I don’t write fairytales, I write thrillers. There are no happy endings.”
He cracked a few more eggs. I didn’t even know I had eggs. “Every single one of your damn books has a happy ending, don’t bullshit me.”
God!I forgot he had read them. “Fine, if you want me towantsomething. I want you to take off your mask,” I ordered, folding my arms across my chest. “Go on,” I said when he looked up, his silver eyes locking me in place. “I want it, so let’s have it.” I didn’t actually care about seeing his face, in fact, not seeing his face was better. I didn’t want to imagine that there was an actual person behind that mask, but even so, it was a power move. He wanted me to want something, so here I was, wanting it.
His eyes narrowed to slits. “No.” he turned back to his cooking.
I watched him for a few seconds, my anger growing. Well, that was just great, now it was a pride thing. Now I had to see his face just to prove a point.
