Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 495(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
I roll my eyes and walk into her, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug, my comforter now around us both. “No rocks were getting off,” I tell her, barely able to manage a smile. “He wants me to die of sexual frustration, remember? But between you and me, I think he’ll cave first.”
“Ummm . . . You realize I’m still here?” Alex mutters, waving a hand to get our attention. “And for the record, I’m not caving, but we won’t need to wait long. You’ll be on your knees begging in no time.”
I can’t resist glancing toward him, a sultry smile spreading across my face. “That sounds like a challenge, Parkour,” I say. “You better not be starting something you can’t handle, because between the two of us, only one is going to be begging, and it ain’t gonna be me.”
Alex laughs and leans into me, his hand low on my back as he presses a kiss to my cheek. “Uh-huh. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mace,” he says, pulling back, then with a wink that almost has me crumbling to my knees, he says, “Good luck reaching for your monster dildo tonight. I know you’re gonna need it.”
And with that, Alex strides out of my door, his rich, delicious laugh trailing behind him.
18
KYAH
Rolling out of bed, I hold my breath as I creep across my room, peeking my head out into the living room and staring straight at the window, finding it open once again. It’s been a week since Crew was killed, and a week since I came home to find my window wide open.
At first, I was more than willing to shrug it off as nothing more than a coincidence, but when it happened the very next day, I knew this was something more. Now, every single morning, I’ve woken up to find the window wide open. The only question is, is this a neighbor playing some stupid joke, or is this something a little more sinister?
Letting out a heavy sigh, I grit my teeth before padding across my apartment, subtly looking around and staring into all of the dark corners, certain I’ll find someone staring back at me. Only there never is, and at this point, I’m about ready to scour the internet for a straitjacket. Surely I’m going insane, right? Because the only other option is that someone is coming into my apartment at night, and that shit doesn’t sit well with me.
Hell, I’d bet every dollar I have that it’s Viper. He can be a fucking weirdo like that. But what am I supposed to say? “Uhh, Hi, Mr. Viper, Sir. Would you possibly mind letting me know if you happen to turn into a psychopathic stalker every night and sneak into my apartment? Mmmkay, thanks.” Shit. He’d laugh in my face and then say some bullshit about being the Vice President of the Grim Reapers, and if he wanted to see me, he wouldn’t need to stoop to levels like stalking, he’d just kick my fucking door in and take me caveman style.
Crap. It really isn’t Viper.
A shiver sails down my spine, and I quickly grab the window and slide it back into place, making sure to lock it, just as I’ve done every other day this week, which has me wondering how the fuck it’s getting opened in the first place since it can only be unlocked from inside.
That thought sends another shiver down my spine.
Shit. I’m in trouble here. I can’t say I’ve ever wished to have a ghost living in my apartment, but a ghost seems so much better than the alternative.
Not wanting to spend a single minute longer than necessary in this apartment, I rush through a shower and scramble to get ready for work. Today’s my first day back at High Voltage Ink, and honestly, I’m not sure if I can handle walking through the doors. I haven’t been back there since the day it all went down.
The cops kept the shop locked up for a few days while they investigated, and by the end of the week, they’d done everything they needed and allowed Big Jim access to clean the place up. I can’t imagine how hard that would have been. I didn’t see what state the shop was left in after the cops were done, and I can only assume all the blood had already been scrubbed clean, but it still would have been hell for Big Jim. Crew was like a son to him, just as I’m the daughter he never had.
Big Jim canceled all of our appointments for the weekend, giving everyone time to grieve, and now, Monday morning, I’m supposed to head back to High Voltage Ink and get on with life as though there isn’t a big chunk of it missing.