Autumn
Iplace the three books on the worn dining table, then stride to the kitchen and place a pot filled with water over the stove. I turn the dial way high so I can have hot water to have a warm bath. The landlord of this dump hasn’t come here to fix the heater—thank God it’s the summer because I couldn’t take it living here in the cold. I had to stay with Raven during those harsh months.
A knock at the door takes me out of my thoughts. I’m not expecting visitors at this time of night, so I turn the stove off. I don’t have a peephole, so I grab the bat and open the door.
Viper is standing against the doorframe with a smirk across his face, and my cheeks flush.
I was hoping I would run into him one day, and I missed him. Is it possible to miss someone you barely know? My heart beats in a frenzy, and my pulse jumps in my neck. I place the bat behind the door.
“You miss me, Autumn?”
I don’t comment but take all of him in. He looks sexy in his dark suit and leather gloves. He looks like a sniper off those video games.
Realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I don’t recall giving him my name nor telling him where I live.
I fold my arms across my chest and hold my head high. “How did you find me and how do you know my name? Are you stalking me?”
“Maybe,” he answers before barging in like he owns the place.
He takes in my dump and notices the leopard-print couch, which I found in a dumpster, and the large flat-screen TV that I received from my aunt Savannah as a Christmas present.
He wrinkles his nose, and shame and embarrassment color my cheeks.
I shouldn’t feel bad for how I’m living. I’m only twenty-one years old, so I have my whole life to get rich.
He turns, yanks me by the loops of my jeans, and pulls me close to plant a kiss on my lips. I wrap my arms around his shoulders.
I should freak out or feel creeped out that he found me or is possibly even stalking me, but I’m not. He’s the only man I’ve been interested in since I moved in here.
I pull back and say, “I thought what we had was a onetime thing.”
“I’m not here for sex.”
Disappointment fills my chest. “Oh? Why are you here?”
“Pack some clothes. You’re staying with me for the time being.”
I burst out in a fit of giggles, and he stares at me as if I have three heads.
“I can’t stay with you. I don’t even know you. I could be a killer.”
He arches his brow, then grips my chin and strokes his thumb across my cheeks. One little touch and I’m already as horny as a dog.
“A serial killer studying killers? I highly doubt that,” he states.
He lets me go and heads to my bedroom, and I follow him. As he glances around at the mattress on the floor, he goes into my closet, takes out my suitcase, and tosses clothes into it.
“How do you figure?”
“Because I listened to your podcast earlier. You said serial killers are mainly arrogant and psychopaths.”
“You liste—” I shake my head. “I can’t leave with you. How do I knowyou’renot a killer?”
“I am, but not in the way you think.” He zips up my suitcase, and I stand in the doorframe to block him.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He taps his index finger on my nose. “Since you’re my girl, you need to know I’m a hitman, and I kill people for money.”
