Page 50 of How To Catch A Killer … And Date His Best Friend

“You’re not freaking out.”

I pull back and meet his stare. “Should I be?”

He watches me for a second before slowly shaking his head. “No.”

“Okay, then,” I say, peeling myself off him and getting back to my feet, my knees shaking beneath me. I hold his stare for just a moment, and with that, I toss the kitchen knife onto the couch and make my way back to the door. “I guess I’ll see you never.”

“Woah. Hold up a second,” he says as I reach for the door. “You’re not going to free me first?”

I grin and look him over as he sits there, completely stranded with his dick out. “Sounds like a you problem,” I tell him before pulling the door wide, only as I go to walk out, I pause and look back at him one more time. “Oh, by the way, your big-ass head owes me a new frying pan.”

“What the fuck, Savage?” I hear Hunter call behind me as I stride out the door, leaving it open. “Get that fine ass back here.”

Then just as I reach my apartment, I hear a heavy sigh coming from up the hall, followed by a dejected, “Hey Siri, text Maddox.”

14

MADDOX

The text comes through while I’m trying to convince Smooch that my socks are not chew toys. The last time he swallowed one of those, I had him at the vet and was put on poop patrol, and watching a hundred pound dog take a shit isn’t nearly as fun as it sounds.

Hunter: Need help.

Need help? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? As a general rule, Hunter Cole is the help. He’s the one I call whenever I’m in trouble, and with a charming personality like mine, trouble finds me often. But for him to text asking for help, that means he’s already well and truly fucked.

Shit. The apocalypse could come and he’d text me asking about spare batteries before ever asking for help, and that right there has more than piqued my interest.

It’s a nice change of pace having that big bastard needing my assistance. I wonder how soon it’d be before I can start rubbing this one in his face. Though I’m damn sure he had to swallow a lot of pride just to type out those letters.

Maddox: You dying?

Hunter: Just get over here.

“Shit,” I mutter, jamming my phone straight back into my pocket before reaching for my helmet and quickly wrestling the sock out of Smooch’s mouth, much to his dismay. I kiss the fucker on the head and promise to make it up to him before hightailing it out of my home and onto my bike, kicking it over almost in the same second.

I take off at the speed of light, reaching Hunter’s apartment complex in just minutes, driving up onto the sidewalk and cutting the engine right by the main entrance before flying through the door, not even giving myself a moment to take off my helmet. If this asshole really is in trouble, then I need to move my ass. Who knows what kind of bullshit could have found its way to his doorstep.

A million different scenarios race through my head as I forgo the elevator to run up the stairs, taking them two at a time until I reach the fourth floor.

I peer up ahead, and my breath catches when I see his door open. Hunter would never leave his door open like that. It leaves him vulnerable, and that’s the one thing he would never allow.

Picking up my pace, I storm down the hall, and as I pass Lyra’s door, I’m not too ashamed to say that for just a moment, the thought crosses my mind that Hunter could wait just a few minutes while I nail this feisty little thing against the back of her door, but she’s likely still at the bar for the night, and that very thought keeps me moving.

I take the few extra steps down the hall, and the second I step into Hunter’s open doorway, I come to a screeching halt.

Uhhhh . . . okay. Not exactly what I was expecting, but I can work with this.

Finding my best friend strapped down to one of his dining chairs in the middle of the living room with his cock hanging loose puts me on edge. I do a quick sweep, checking him from head to toe, making sure he’s not about to bleed out, and once I determine that he’s physically okay, my gaze shoots around the room, searching for the threat I must have missed, because how else would he have gotten into this situation?

Quickly determining that we’re alone, I focus my attention back on Hunter, a slow smile beginning to spread across my lips.

“Don’t fucking start,” Hunter warns and shakes his head, not looking impressed. “Cut me loose.”

I’m already reaching for my phone, unable to contain my excitement. “Oh, hell no,” I say, searching through my music and hitting play on “Womanizer” by the one and only Britney Spears. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.”

“Maddox.”

My hips start to move, and I begin dancing, rolling my body like a stripper. “I always knew you wanted all this,” I tell him, giving a hundred and ten percent to the cause while pretending to lick my thumb and roll it down my body, though the lick is all messed up with my helmet on. But damn, I’m glad I stuck with the decision to wear a muscle tee this morning. One should never underestimate the power of a little man-side-pec. Personally, if Hunter swung that way, I know he’d be an arms man.