Her perky breasts slip out from under her cover, and I graze a finger against her nipples. It’s all I can do not to sink my teeth into them, to punish them along with the rest of the girl who fucking betrayed me. Who pushed me down into the depths of hell.
But in the next second, my own traitorous hands lift the blanket up back over her, tucking her in.
She’s still deeply asleep, and I bring my hand to her hair, smoothing out her curls, threading the black coils through my fingers. Fucking hell. If only she hadn’t ruined everything. I could have made her so happy.
At last, I turn away, bitterness rankling in my heart. I close the door quietly, creeping out into the foggy night, my heart heavierthan it’s ever been. What the fuck is wrong with me? How can I still be spiraling after all this time? I’ve known for the past eight months she didn’t want me. How the hell can she still affect me so much? Why can’t I cast out that cruel girl from my heart?
She doesn’t deserve my love. Only my hatred. And yet, she owns them both.
Plunged deep in my dark thoughts, I enter my car, turn on the engine and drive away.
__
I sense it even before I’ve walked into the cheap motel room I’ve rented for the week. Someone’s here. The light is turned off, but I smell something. The vague fragrance of expensive cologne, mingling with the stench of mildew that pervades the place.
Taking my gun from my back pocket, I cock it while slowly turning the door handle.
Then I turn on the light switch, preparing to fire at the same time.
But I freeze when I see him. Logan.
Sleeping uncomfortably on the chair across from the bed, his head lolling down against his chest.
I grit my teeth, annoyed. It would have been so easy to shoot him before I knew who he was. Now, I’m faced with the impossible task of looking him in the eye when I kill him.
I’ve spent the past eight months finding one excuse after another to avoid ending his life. The main excuse I’ve given him—and myself—is that I’d kill him the moment I found her again. After all, he’s been helping me look, and he’s good at it. Nearly as good as Vincent.
And now that Ihavefound her, he’s come as though offering himself up to me. As if daring me to make good on my promise. What’s wrong with him? Why doesn’t he run?
He startles awake as the light turns on, and rubs his eyes.
“Hey,” he mutters.
I sit across from him, on the bed, eyeing him with exasperation.
“What do you want?”
“Well, first of all, to make your job easier.”
Yeah, well, fuck you too.
At this point, I have a feeling he’s fully aware that I don’t have what it takes to kill him. If he’s here, it’s to taunt me.
I stare at him, my jaw clenched. Then I follow his gaze to my gun, which I’ve set beside me, and in the flicker of fear that passes in his eye, I realize I may have been wrong. He doesn’t doubt my promise. He firmly believes Iwillkill him. He didn’t come for that. He came inspiteof that.
“What do you want?” I ask again.
“To talk to you about the girl.”
I scowl at him, cross my arms and wait.
“Heard about Bill Henson, by the way. Nice going. Great way to keep things on the down-low.”
He points a finger at the enormous teddy bear that’s seated in a corner, taking up nearly all the space in the room.
“Wasn’t trying to keep things on the down-low,” I growl.
“Yeah, I can see that. So, what have you got planned for her?”
