Page 116 of Under the Bed

From my hiding spot behind a nearby building, I squint my eyes, finally seeing Kaleb. His head, at least, and shoulder. He’s behind the bushes. The ones surrounding my building. They’re the densest in our neighborhood.

They’re hiding the person that Kaleb has dragged back there. The man who’s pleading with him for mercy.

Kaleb is still in plain sight, his mask back in place. Just a man leaning against one of the building’s walls.

An infuriating man.

My man.

I slide closer, lurking in the shadows as I stalk him.

“Ronan Talbot.” The man’s voice is barely audible. He sounds choked. Kaleb is choking him.

It’s absolutely wrong and filthy to be turned on by that.

His violence. The strangled voice that means Kaleb is torturing the man.

The pain from fresh, bleeding wounds on my ass gets me even hotter, now that I have time to focus on that.

I’m horny and morbidly curious at the same time.

Why is this guy saying my father’s name?

“Why are you here?” Kaleb asks the question for me.

Cough. Cough. A desperate breath.“He pays me to be here. Stalk h-h-his daughter. Stop. Stop. I don’t wanna die.”

Holy. Shit.

I was right. My father posted a man out here to stalk me.

A tiny flash of relief, and I breathe easier. Though my dad only hires the best of the best, he fucked up. He hired a complete incompetent.

Had he been even a mildly decent private investigator, he would’ve reported back to Dad about the masked man lurking around my apartment building. Dad would’ve hired people to handle theproblem.

No one’s here to kill or lock up either Kaleb or me.

The short, weak investigator hasn’t reported anything of consequence to anyone.

Unfortunately for him.

Kaleb throws him over his shoulder as if he weighs nothing. Heat pools between my soaked thighs as he comes out from behind the bushes and trudges to a nearby building.

He goes inside as if he lives there, which he does, I suppose. In the next minute, he’s gone. Safe from prying eyes.

Not safe from me.

Briefly, I consider chasing him. His hands are full, and I could take advantage of that. I’d come up behind him and press my pocketknife to his thigh, a threat to slice through his femoral artery.

Never.

The neighbors could come to the windows because of the commotion while Kaleb has a dead body over his shoulder.

Before my mind starts going into problem-solving mode, a light goes on on the first floor. A small one, probably from a lamp.

A clue to tell me where Kaleb lives.

Moving stealthily through the shadows, I make my way to the apartment building. No code on the door. Good. I take the stairs two at a time, stopping on the first-floor landing.

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