At any point since I showed up, she could have hit that order button, and her arsenal of security measures would have arrived within a few hours.
But it wasn't until she left this morning and came back that she suddenly felttrulyunsafe.
"Let's get out of here," I shove the phone in my jacket pocket, all but jumping out of my chair. "Something's wrong and I need to drop you by Mingle before I go see what's going on. Something scared her and I need to figure out what."
His eyes narrow in humored disbelief. "Of course something scared her. She has a tattooed psychopath stalker whose favoritepastime is watching her like a creep and breaking into her apartment.”
I shake my head, leading the way out of Balor without waiting to see if he'll catch up. He jogs to keep up with me as I talk over my shoulder, "This is something else. She might be afraid of me, but she likes that fear, loses her senses to it. The kind of crawling out of her skin, frazzled fear radiating off of her now..." I don't know how to explain it, how to just make him understand that I canfeelher terror through the camera, even though I hardly know her.
Something deeper than memory and stronger than knowledge drives me forward, an instinctual need to seek out whatever is causing her such distress and snuff it out to free her from its influence.
I am theonlyperson allowed to make her afraid.
The drive back to Mingle is shortened by my disregard for the speed limit, much to Skyler's dismay. By the time I drop him off at the front door, all the color has long since drained from his face, replaced by a sickly green.
Without so much as a wave goodbye, he throws himself out of the car, slamming my door behind him to escape the steel "hell on wheels" as he called it. He tried to crack a joke about me driving like a bat out of hell, but it fell flat when he couldn't even get the words out without his stomach churning.
Of all the crimes we've committed together, my speeding is the one that makes him sick.
It would be laughable if I weren't half pissed and half worried about whatever the hell is going on with Brigit that has her tearing through her packages like she might find salvation in them.
Rounding the corner and pulling into the public parking garage across from her building, I slow just enough to not look suspicious, watching for a second as the sun begins to descend, casting shadows across the ledges I'll need to climb to get into Brigit's unit.
I count the seconds as I plan my ascent, my breathing calm and collected, but my heart pumping with the adrenaline that fills my bloodstream whenever I'm doing somethingdastardly.
As of late, it's just been this. Sneaking in to see my girl. But I can't help but wonder if this is how I was before, when I was breaking into homes with a different motive. Did scaling walls before a kill make me feel this wired and alive?
I don't need to have my memories back to know the answer is yes. The high of this power, the thrill of possibly getting caught, it would all only be heightened by the promise of violence and severing someone from this earth.
Once again, I'm trapped in my head, disgusted by my thoughts, my own drive to harm slithering under my skin like an addiction I can't kick and didn't sign up for.
Jumping to grip the bars above, dragging myself up until I can step onto the next ledge. Up and up until I'm standing just outside Brigit's sliding glass door, ready to open it.
Before I can, the curtains rustle, and the door opens, bringing me face to face with just who I'm here to see.
Her chest expands, an instinctual scream building in her lungs.
Before it can escape and alert everyone in the vicinity to my presence, I cup my palm over her mouth, wrapping my other arm around her waist to push her back inside and press her against the wall just to the side of the door.
Her eyes burn with fury, and I can't help but delight in that expression. She's not scared, not really. Or she wouldn't be brave enough to glare daggers at me.
I release her waist, keeping my palm across her lips, gently sliding the door closed and locking it without taking my eyes off hers.
Fucking hell, those eyes. Like diving into glittering pools of rich coffee. Her beauty is always apparent, even through the tiny screen of my phone, but in the few moments I've been lucky enough to see it up close, it makes my heart ache to think of all the time we've missed. All the time I could have spent telling her how stunning she is and how lucky I am to even exist in the same universe as her.
Holding up a finger to signal for her to be quiet, I finally release her mouth, letting that hand land on thewall behind her.
A sigh of relief at being in her presence again escapes me, "Hi, Bunny. I missed you."
Chapter 17
Adorable
BRIGIT
The relief flooding my brain right now is a level of stupid I can't believe I'm capable of.
But all I saw before Cormac's hand was over my mouth was his vague form, and for a second, I thought it was a different man who has made it known that he knows where I live.
