Page 37 of Chaos Kills

“Thanks for bringing them back,” I concede. “I appreciate it.”

Silence.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder to the kitchen.

He shakes his head, then changes his mind and gives me a curt nod.

Okay…

I move, ambling for the fridge and yanking out a can of Coke, a Coors—which is weird because it’s my favorite—and a juice box.

Placing each one on the island, he and I have another stare-off competition for a few seconds longer while I give him time to choose.

He takes the juice box.

Curiosity makes me break my short-term rule as I glance up at him tearing the plastic straw through the wrapper and stabbing it viciously into the Juicy Juice.

“Good choice.” He says nothing, which I’m slowly getting used to, as I drag the Coke closer to me to crack open. “Do you know how the groceries got in here?”

He nods.

“You?”

Another bob of his head.

“I’ve already gotten two things I needed on my list,” I emit slowly. “Was there something you needed?”

His eyes are the purest shade of blue as they remain locked on me. Dark pools that peek over the box he’s sipping on. Theyappear kind, but my radar of who and what to trust has been off lately.

Yet, how do I decipher everything he’s done for me as anything less than making me comfortable?

Ozzy shakes his head, and I can’t help but be relieved.

And still confused.

“I don’t want any trouble,” I confess. “I’m staying in South Shore. Whatever Torin has planned…” Ozzy’s eyes narrow in on me. “I know this wasn’t just for shits and giggles. I know you’re here because of him.”

“No.”

I hit him with an exasperated stare. “C’mon, dude. I wasn’t born yesterday.”Crickets.“Then why are you here? Who are you?” He reaches behind him, plucking a black cell phone out of his jeans, and glances down at it, clearly not giving a shit about my question. “I’mtalkingto you.”

Ozzy gently places his phone down along the counter and gives me his full attention, but nothing more.

It’s quickly starting to drive me insane.

There was no warm-up with this guy, and now he’s in my world, handing me a house and returning my sisters.

I don’t get it.

I can’t gauge his angle. I wouldn’t even know where to begin or how to shield myself from the next blow he’s going to deliver.

“Why—” I stop myself because I don’t want to insult him. This whole non-speaking shit might be because he has a condition. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. The boy is sitting peacefully in my kitchen, drinking a juice box, for fuck’s sake. He bought me a house, loaded it with groceries, and brought my sisters safely back.

There’s no con yet.

Besides being married to a complete stranger.

“I really am grateful for everything you’ve done,” I profess as softly as I can. “But no offense, a lot has happened. And…you’re new.”

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