Page 42 of Flame
“I’ll go with you.”
She smiles. “Thank God. At least I’ll have a wingman for if I fall flat on my face again. Like damn, I know it’s utterly trashy to try to pick up a guy at a memorial, but I just don’t get this one. I mean, from what I hear, he’s fucked half the girls in this town. ButIpractically flash my titties at him and…” She trails off, blushing. “Never mind. But damn, it’s like some kind of personal conquest now. I will fuck that asshole or die trying. It’s the principle of the matter.”
“You’re too good for him, Mara,” I blurt out. “Besides, you could have any guy you want.”
“But I want that guy,” she declares, stubbornly jutting her chin. Her teeth seize her lower lip as she groans. “And he is so sexy. And nice—I heard from my parents that he offered to pay for Faith’s funeral expenses as well as the reward for any information on her case. Five thousand dollars.”
“He did?” I don’t know why the thought surprises me.
Maybe because it brings one good point into question—what was the nature of his relationship with Faith in the first place?
“He did,” Mara insists with a nod. “Let me tell my folks I’m on break, and then we can catch up on all of the gossip. You’ve missed a lot, girl. And I want to hear all about this ‘vacation’ that left you with even more hickies on your neck than before.”
I feel my cheeks catch fire as I brush my hand along my throat. Even with the high neckline of my sweater, the marks are obvious.
“I hope the same culprit isn’t responsible for the ‘door’ you ran into,” she adds pointedly. “I know you don’t have a lot of experience with guys, Han, but trust me. Anyone who puts their hands on you isn’t worth the dick.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, brushing my hair forward to cover most of the bruising. “But I will take you up on that lunch offer.”
“Great!” She skips off, entering the Chans’ restaurant, and I instinctively start to follow her as the back of my neck heats with awareness.
A glance over my shoulder reveals no one in sight—but I feel it. He’s here, watching me…
“You ready?” Mara asks, appearing by my side, a black leather purse in hand. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
I follow her, but the uneasy dread in my gut only intensifies, lasting through our entire walk to a nearby café.
And I swear that this time, the figure I catch as I glance behind me isn’t a figment of my imagination.
