Page 51 of Hollow Forest

There was no ink.

Joey wasn’t my stalker.

He held out the garment, and I nearly flinched. No, no! I thought the signs were there! Why else would I feel so comfortable around him? I took the thing as though it would bite me and then turned to pick up the weapons.

“Aren’t you going to wear it?” he murmured.

He was standing so close behind me that when I jumped, I bumped into his hard mass. Fear shot through me. I needed to get out of here! For my sake, and Joey’s.

“I will,” I lied.

There was no point telling him I was going to burn the damn thing.

He seemed to sense my shifted mood and didn’t speak again until we were loaded in his truck. I kept my gaze peeled and on the road. I didn’t get the sense of being watched, but when a motorcycle passed, I had to swallow a scream.

Thankfully, it was a hog, not the sleek bike my monster road.

The moment we were back at the cottage, I rambled a goodbye and launched from the truck.

“Sam, wait,” Joey called.

I gulped and turned, practically dancing on my toes for him to leave.

Joey handed me my revolver. “Don’t forget this.”

“Oh, thanks,” I breathed.

Joey held the barrel. The spot that my monster had rubbed against my clit in the woods.

“Whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy,” the handyman rumbled.

I wanted to die. I wished on every star that would soon pop out in the sky that the earth would open up and swallow me whole.

“See you around,” Joey added and let go of the gun.

Unable to speak, I gave him a short nod and shut the truck door a little too forcefully.

I was sad.

There was no other way to describe the feelings coursing through me. I thought…I thought he was my stalker. If he was, that would have been the most fun date I’d ever been on. And I could have left San Pietro Cove with another beautiful memory.

Chapter 17 – The Monster

Work kept me away again. There was a complication with a hit job gone wrong. I fixed it. Barely. But after I showed up, the team was successful. By the time I was able to drive back to the Cove, the desperation to see my little monster made it hard to breathe. I didn’t bother concealing my steps as I pushed through the back door and climbed the stairs. She was up there, waiting for me.

Swinging her door open, I took a deep breath. The first real one in days. Relief overwhelmed me, as I crossed the room. But when I saw that the lump on the bed didn’t rise and fall with slumber, my heart stopped.

Samantha wasn’t breathing.

I snatched Sam to me, a bellow of rage building in my throat when my hands connected with pillows under the quilt. She wasn’t here.

Where is she? Where the fuck is she!

I would tear this cottage down. I would rip every board out with my bare hands. I would burn my ancestor’s town to ashes—

Something clicked softly.

Lost in the blinding rage-tinged panic, I didn’t sense a body behind me. Not until the little thing clipped the cuff on my other wrist.