Page 6 of My Deepest Desire

We talked a lot, while the other men huddled around the barbecue making lame jokes and shooting the shit about sports. When I’d earned his trust, he finally explained his real job and how the life he lives now is just a cover. Gene introduced me to the world of contract killing. It sounded alluring and powerful, like something I could excel at. I still have my morals, but I have no problem killing a man who does bad things. And I have no problem killing one who fucks with Maggie.

I hate lying to her, but I need to keep her in the dark a while longer, so I continue the ruse and confirm what my parents told her. “I am an independent contractor. I do private security for various clients.”

I’m relieved when she accepts my answer, but the guilt still gnaws at me.

Moving farther into her home, I take in all the details. Her house is a warm, inviting space that feels like an extension of her personality. The living room, bathed in golden light from the table lamps, boasts plush, overstuffed furniture draped with fluffy throws and pillows. Bookshelves line the walls, filled to capacity with well-loved novels and whimsical trinkets she’s collected over the years. And there’s a faint scent of vanilla and cinnamon that lingers in the air from the candle on her mantel.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m just gonna tidy up a bit.”

It’s obvious she wasn’t expecting a guest as she scurries around, taking her empty mug to the kitchen, shoving a discarded bra under a pillow, and straightening a short stack of books and mail on her coffee table. She’s cute when she’s flustered, and I watch her with amusement.

I drop my tone an octave, stepping closer to her. “Relax, baby. You don’t have to clean up for me. I’ve seen you naked.” When I wink at her, a soft peach blush blooms on her cheeks.

“We were ten and we were camping. You weren’t supposed to be looking,” she scolds, but her eyes twinkle while she suppresses a smile. “There are fresh sheets on the guest bed and extra toiletries in the bathroom across the hall.”

I raise an eyebrow at her.

“I keep the room ready in case my parents decide to visit. Now that they’re retired, they do a lot of travelling and you never know when they’ll stop by.”

“I haven’t run into them in years. How are they?” I remember them fondly. They were good neighbors and our parents got along well.

“They’re great. I just miss them and wish we could visit more often.” Maggie’s expression is wistful when she strides down the halls and returns with a stack of towels, our fingers brushing as she hands them to me. “There’s some in the bathroom, but just in case.”

Always thoughtful and prepared. I wouldn’t expect anything less from this woman, which only heightens my guilt at how I pushed her away years ago.

“Thanks,” I reply, tucking the towels under my arm. The faint scent of her perfume lingers on them, setting off a swirl of emotions inside me.

“Okay, I think you’ve got everything you need, right?”

“I still need answers, Mouse. I need to know everything so I can keep you safe.”

“Can we talk in the morning? It’s late and it’s been… an eventful night. I mean, Trey Smith is standing in my living room. I never thought I’d see the day,” she jokes, but I can tell she’s still rattled by the surprise gift on her doorstep.

“Tomorrow,” I confirm with an uncompromising tone.

“Goodnight, Trey.” Her eyes search mine. Looking for answers to questions she hasn’t voiced yet. She’s halfway to her room when she pivots around and gazes at me with hurt and resignation in her eyes. “Just one more thing. Why?”

“Whywhat?” I know what she’s asking, but I’m stalling.

“I missed you—missed my best friend—while you were gone. And when you came back, you weren’t just cold and distant. You were cruel. You’ve never been cruel, at least not to me.”

There’s an apology on the tip of my tongue that’s been a long time coming, but I don’t give it. “I’ll explain everything soon. I promise, Mouse.”

She doesn’t respond, just nods her head solemnly before heading off to bed.

I will tell her the truth, and I hope to God she can handle it.

4

MAGGIE

Trey Smith is in my house, and every nerve in my body is on high alert. How am I supposed to sleep when a stunning, six-something behemoth with piercing-blue eyes is mere feet away? I can’t pretend not to notice his chiseled muscles and rugged features; they command attention from anyone who crosses his path. And here he is, sleeping under my roof, the epitome of danger and desire.

But it’s not just his physical presence that keeps me awake at night. It’s the knowledge that he works in security, a profession that requires him to be ultra-aware and highly skilled in protecting others. Which means he must have countless women throwing themselves at him for protection.

The thought sends a sharp pang of jealousy through me, even though I know we could never be together. Not after what happened between us in high school: his careless words that shattered our friendship, his sudden popularity that made me invisible.

Whatever.I have more important things to worry about right now, like Chris Whatever-his-last-name-is. He’s becomeobsessed with me, stalking me with chilling gifts and sinister intentions. Why would anyone fixate on plain old me?

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