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“Probably not. Without a description, it would be difficult.”
I nod without pursuing the question further, a chill sweeps up my spine, causing me to shudder.
Yeah, because the guy is fucking dead, killed by someone else in a fucking mask.
Lost in thought, the car eventually halts on the curb outside the hotel. Hearing Bhodi’s faint voice in the distance I finally look his way. With my attention pulled to his extended hand in front of me, he passes me a card.
“That’s my card. My number is on the back. I’ll call the hotel if I get any news on your father’s case.”
Taking the card, I nod, sliding it into my back pocket. “Thank you.”
Looking away, I feel the heat rise in my cheeks again, Bhodi’s deep stare almost able to pull me into a trance as the busy New York traffic flies past the vehicle. Shaking it off, I give one final nod before exiting the car and heading back into the hotel.
After a few minutes of extending my stay at the hotel down at reception, avoiding Pamela’s concerns about my appearance and getting a new keycard. I finally enter my room. Allowing my back to fall against the door, breathing a sigh of relief as the peaceful silence of the suite brings me back to a level of calm. Taking a couple of moments to gather my thoughts, I manage to push myself off the surface and head to the bathroom.
I find myself glancing over my shoulder as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. When I see nothing but an empty hall, I feel a shudder run up my spine again. With this and the waves of exhaustion running over me, I decide to shrug it off and put it down to my frayed nerves. Finally, I step out of my clothes and feel the hot water rush over my skin. I let out a low groan as the heat begins to soothe all the aches, pains, and stress.
After a few minutes pass, I begrudgingly shut the hot water off and reach for the large warm towel. Wrapping it around myself tight, I avoid the bathroom mirror and opt to head straight into the bedroom. Sitting on the end of the bed, I feel my blood run cold, and jaw falls open as my purse sits on the dresser in front of me.
What the fuck?
Two/face??
For someone who’s been through a traumatic event, Summer’s lack of awareness of her surroundings fucking infuriates me. Without even turning the lights on or checking the suite first, she didn’t notice me sitting in her living room or even notice the cigarettes being smoked. I will punish her for being so blasé. I thought that after what she had been through, she would at least try to protect herself in some way.
I know she’s seen the purse placed on the dresser, and I thought she could probably do with it, but at the same time, I like the idea of fucking with her. The gasp that escaped those rosy, pink, plump lips left me hard, causing a smirk to creep across my face. Whether it’s the head injury or lack of concern for her safety, she’s been asleep for an hour or so, leaving me to watch her from the corner of the room.
Slumped in the chair, I watch as her chest slowly rises and falls. In complete silence, I glide through the room, placing myself on the edge of her bed, still watching her peacefully sleep. She’s blissfully unaware of the demon that’s watching.
While I know it’s wrong, I can’t help myself. I watched her in the shower earlier as the water cascaded over her tanned skin and slipped over those perfect curves. I knew I wanted her more than when I first saw her. But right now, I need to know where those bruises came from. They’re not fresh, and I want to know if I should cut someone’s hands off and feed them to the cunt who dare put their hands on what will be mine.
The guy from the alley was just a local paid thug. He didn’t know who paid him or so he claimed. He was just contacted yesterday by an unknown number, shown a photo of Summer and was told where to find her. I knew he was lying, but I didn’t really need or want his clarification. I can find that out on my own.
I feel the white-hot anger simmering under the surface, and I gently graze the back of my hand over her cheek. A smile tugs at my lips as she slightly twitches and her eyes slowly open. I see the peacefulness escape as her gaze lands on me. When her eyes widen with recognition and fear, I slam my hand over her mouth with force, leaning in closely, my voice calm and low.
“You won’t scream, Summer. If you do, I will punish you. Do you understand me?”
I watch her fear of the mask replaced with a confused familiarity and a flicker of curiosity. After a moment, she nods, and her rigid body relaxes slightly. Removing my hand, a mere whisper escapes.
“I saw you.” Her voice is breathy, yet she doesn’t appear too surprised.
“You did.” I confirm.
“The police didn’t mention the mugger…..What did you do to him?”
Summer speaks quietly, her eyes refusing to meet mine as she looks away.
“I think we both know he wasn’t a mugger, Summer.”
Her eyes instantly snap to mine, her brow furrows processing my words. I watch as the cogs turn in her head before her eyes widen again. Scrambling back towards the headboard, the fear is back.
“What did you do?” She asks again in a shaky voice.
“I did what any sane person would do when someone places their hands on something that’s not theirs.”
She swallows hard, staring as the duvet bunched at her waist. Her bouncy tits are constricted by a tiny tank top as they rise and fall with each breath. I watch intently as she lets out a deep sigh, which is weighing heavy on her soul.
“You killed him?”
