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His chest rises with growing breaths. And for a moment, I don’t think he’ll answer.
“Maybe. But you’re not ready to know me yet.”
“Have I seen you before?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you always answer questions without really answering them?”
“Always.”
“Are you smiling under that stupid thing?”
“Sure as hell am, Kayla Jenkins. But don’t take it as a compliment. Wouldn’t want it to go to your head.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I purse my lips, butmy mouth burns with how hard I’m trying not to smile.
“Fucking trouble,” he mutters under his breath, like he didn’t mean for me to hear it. With a heavy exhale, he says, “Let’s clean up this mess before you create another one.”
“For some reason, I think you’re very much enjoying this.”
“A little too much.”
Without saying another word, he unrolls a plastic tarp across my floor, then grabs the man’s body and lowers him down. Speechless, I watch him cover the dead body with the plastic until only a shadow remains.
He picks up some of that oxygen bleach and a towel and starts cleaning, while I follow everything he’s doing and do the same.
Together, we make the place look as though nothing ever happened.
And the scariest part of all is that being here with him, doing what we’re doing, is the most fun I’ve had in a while.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KAYLA
I haven’t seenChris since I ran off on him last night. Nor have I heard from Michael on how pissed he is at me, so maybe Chris didn’t actually tell him.
Getting out of my car at school, I look around for the neighborhood’s friendly stalker, but I don’t see him, nor do I see my bodyguard anywhere.
Maybe they both decided to leave me alone.
Doubtful…
College students bustle around, talking in groups, rushing to their classes, while I grab my books and start out of the car.
As I head for the humanities building, this sudden eerie feeling washes over me. Goose bumps thread my skin. And I know instantly.
Someone’s watching me.
I can’t see him. But I know he’s there, lurking in the shadows.
I freeze in the middle of the road, glancing around, trying to find the man in the mask. Because I know he’s the one watching. Waiting.
He could be anyone. A professor. A student. The janitor I say hi to every day when I head for class.
“Hey, Kayla!”
I gasp as a woman’s voice flips me in her direction.
