He cocked his head to the side.Did she have a kink?Was that what was going on here?Had he run into a clown freak?If so, he was intrigued.
“It’s kind of hot.”She reached for him.
Leaning back, he barely felt her fingertips skim his cheek before he was out of reach.This was so unfamiliar to him.He rarely allowed anyone to lay a hand on him.Intimacy wasn’t his thing.
She held her hands up, palms toward him.“Sorry.”
“Let’s go,” he said as he opened the door.
With a nod, she did the same.
As he waited for her, he scanned the front of the building.Were there any cameras?Dammit.If he’d left her to take the fall, he wouldn’t have had to deal with this.Then again, he couldn’t trust her not to rat him out.He didn’t know her.
This, while inconvenient, was the best course of action.He had to stick with her until the heat died down.Either that or kill her.
The idea soured in his brain the moment it crossed his mind.
Lifting his arm as she approached, he offered her a cozy place to tuck in.Even though he couldn’t see them, that didn’t mean there weren’t cameras.He had to put on a show.They had to look like two people who were into each other after meeting at a Halloween office party.
Wearing an adorable smile, she snuggled up against him as he draped an arm over her shoulders.
“Lead the way.”He gestured with his free hand.
Together they walked down the sidewalk to the third apartment from the end—107.He made a mental note as she stuck her key in the lock and opened the door.Deadbolt and door lock.Definitely amateur hour there.
Stepping inside, he surveyed the small living room with a sectional couch, large ottoman, and flat-screen television on the opposite wall.On either side of the TV, there were bookcases filled to the brim.A bejeweled tiara sat on one shelf beside a 3-D printed dragon.
Tchotchkes decorated her shelves, keeping her books company.He nodded as he got a better picture of the woman who had helped him murder Grant.Beyond the small living area was a high-top table with a small hallway to the left and a doorway to the right.Glancing around, he noted one full bathroom and bedroom.The entry led to a small galley kitchen.
It was a tiny space, but sufficient for one person.She’d decorated it with small, brightly colored paintings, a college degree declaring she had a bachelor of arts in psychology, and some other knickknacks.There was nothing special or alarming about her home.
“Did you want to see the bedroom?”she asked.
Shaking his head, he dropped onto the couch and rested his throbbing head in his hands.“No.”
“Oh.”There was quite a bit of disappointment in that one syllable.
He’d screwed up enough tonight.He had to concentrate and sort all this out.Which meant his blood flow had to remain going to his brain and not his little head.
Slowly, cautiously even, she sat down beside him, but not too close.She rested her hands on her knees.Her gaze bored into him.
“Did you lock the door?”he asked.
Quickly, she sprang to her feet and skittered around the ottoman.After several clicks and the slide of the chain lock, he nodded, satisfied they had secured the apartment as well as it could be.
Staring ahead at his own reflection on the television, he caught her in his peripheral vision.She brought her hand up and nibbled on her thumb.For the first time, she seemed anxious.All her jovialness had left.
“I’m trying to think,” he said, hoping to head off her inevitable questions.
She nodded and gingerly lowered herself onto the ottoman before him.
“I didn’t exactly plan…” His voice trailed off as his gaze shifted toward her.“For you.”
8
Sydney
Watchinghimintentlyinthe darkness of her living room, Sydney studied the concentration on his painted face.What she wouldn’t give to turn on the light, but she didn’t want to upset him.He seemed to be pretty agitated at the moment.
