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Coming.
“Uh, want to join us?” I ask Prince.
That has Chris snapping his feral eyes to mine, a hint of danger in the tendrils of his gaze. A shudder zips up my spine.
“But I’m sure you have plenty of friends,” I backpedal. “Andyou don’t actually want to.”
Prince chuckles. “I do have my fair share, but none of them are you, so count me in.”
He’s being sweet, I know he is, but it’s making me feel nothing, which wasn’t the case with Chris or the masked mystery man.
That’s because you don’t like nice. You like crazy and rough and wildly intense.
At least my subconscious knows me well.
He strides beside me while Chris follows. But Prince doesn’t even notice. A guy like that is all about himself. I know the type. Met men like that in my past life.
He’s no different.
When we make it inside the cafeteria, Eriu waves us over. I rush to give her a hug and introduce her to Prince.
While we eat, she drops her face toward my ear.
“He’s cute!” she whispers, while I elbow her.
“Not my type.” My eyes snap to Chris’s.
Apparently, my type is currently drilling holes into the back of my head.
CHAPTER EIGHT
KAYLA
When I got homefrom school a few hours ago, Chris followed me, his SUV sitting right outside across the street.
He didn’t say a word to me after I left school, but he was one step behind at every moment. Like my personal shadow.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he planted a tracker in my car, probably somewhere I’ll never find it.
Pressing a few keys on my laptop, I check the latest updates on the sex registry, investigating all the new ex-cons who may have moved into the neighborhood.
Clicking a few more keys, I find one.
Fred Avon.
Five-nine. Bald. And only lives a few blocks away…
From the looks of him, he appears nice. Safe.
But he’s not.
Imprisoned for thirty years.
Sexual abuse in the first degree, it says. The victim was only five years old. He was twenty-five at the time.
Nausea swims up my throat.
A quick search reveals that he also lives alone.
