Page 52 of Dead Pretty

I’m still watching.

“No shit,” he says.

Still no real facial reaction. His words are not what I would have expected someone to say to that. But then, from everything I have learned, possibly the reaction I expect isn’t necessarily the correct one.

Perhaps Jack is reacting as a normal person would. Not a guilty person. Or maybe he’s just reacting like Jack would, based on all his life experiences—which I know nothing about. I can only surmise about his time in the military. I know very little about him in general.

But if I got to know him well, then that would mean, in turn, he’d get to know me too. And I can’t do that.

“So, what happened? Was the guy there?”

I perch on the edge of my sofa, stroking Eleven, who is still in my arms. “No, he hadn’t shown up for work, which is out of character for him. They spoke to my manager, checked his home address with her, and left their number for us to call them if we heard from him. They wouldn’t say why they were looking for him. It wasn’t until later when my manager heard on the gossip mill that the murdered girl was his girlfriend.”

“That’s … wow. So, they think he killed her?”

I shrug. “They usually look at the closest people to the deceased, right?”

He nods in response, eyes holding mine.

I look away. “And the fact that he’s disappeared isn’t helping his case.”

“How are you feeling about it?”

My eyes snap back to his. It seems an odd question to ask. “What do you mean?” My words are clipped. If they affect him, he doesn’t let on.

Just pushes his hands into his front pockets, rocking on his heels, back still resting against the wall. “I mean, you worked with the guy, and he’s potentially a killer. That would weird anyone out, Audrey.”

Yes, it would. If I were a normal person who hadn’t already experienced the worst of the worst.

“I didn’t know him well. We’ve barely spoken to each other since I started working there. He’s like me. Quiet. Doesn’t like to talk to people.”

Jack stares at me a long moment. “You talk to me.”

“Yeah, well …” I look away from his probing gaze, down at Eleven, running my fingers through her soft fur.

“Does that mean that you like to talk to me?”

Eleven jumps down from my lap and wanders into the kitchen. She was the barrier between us, and now, she’s left me vulnerable.

Thanks, Eleven.

I curl my toes into the carpet. “Maybe.”

A low laugh. I hear him move. Then, he’s a shadow on the floor before me. His booted feet a mere inch from mine. I get a whiff of him—leather and cedar. It weakens me way more than it should.

“Audrey.” His voice sounds deeper, huskier.

I love hearing him say my name. Just the sound of his voice speaking my name turns me on a ridiculous amount.

I lift my eyes to his.

It’s a mistake.

There’s fire in his eyes, and it lights one inside of me.

“I like talking to you too,” he says.

I wet my lips with my tongue. It’s a subconscious move. But one that brings those eyes of his to my mouth.