Page 61 of Executing Malice
She drifts a step closer. Too close. The scent of her floral shampoo hits me through the plastic shield between us, but I’m so startled by her audacity that I’m not quick enough when she reaches over and runs a pink tipped nail along my throttle.
“I’ve always wanted to ride one of these.”
In the several weeks that I’ve claimed this parking spot as my own, I’ve had the odd busybody amble over and prod me with questions. I’ve had young girls snap pictures and giggle. I’ve had men amble over and compliment me on my ride.
Not a single soul has ever touched my baby or behaved like this is some weird meet cute romcom. This interaction is prickling all the hairs along my neck ... and not in a good way.
I get the fascination.
I’ve seen the thirst traps and I’m vaguely amused by it, but the sheer nerve of this girl has flabbergasted me.
“You shouldn’t touch other people’s stuff,” I warn her, wishing I could simply pluck my bike up and hug it to my chest protectively.
The best I can do is resist the urge to smack her hand away.
There isn’t even a flicker of guilt or shame in her expression as she bats her thick lashes and drawls, “Can I take a picture?”
It’s on my tongue to tell her no, but she’s already spun on her heels, presenting me with her back. Her hair swings like a glossy cape and brushes my arm. It’s all the warning I’m given before she’s pressed right into my side, head cocked towards mine, phone in the air with one hand. I catch a brief glimpse of our combined faces in the screen like some selfie-taking couple.
I start to rear back, tilting my body away from her while keeping my balance on my bike, but I hear the snap as she gets her photo.
“My friends will be so jealous,” she’s saying, but not moving. She’s still wedged into my side, face tilted back on my shoulder. “They’d simply die if you give me a ride.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LEILA
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I’m not jealous.
I have no reason to be.
I told him to leave me alone.
I want him to leave me alone.
I’m not at all bitter or pissed watching him practically let Felicity Sutton climb into his lap. I don’t care in the least that she’s nestled into his side, pretty face tipped back on his shoulder, peering up at him with her soft smile.
Fuck them both.
“Leila?”
The interrupting voice has my messy thoughts scattering. It distorts the image of running a clean, red line across the smooth column of her exposed throat. I can already feel the way her soft strands would feel gripped in my fist as I drag her head back and...
I blink and focus on the man watching me from across my counter. I hate him by default. Not for interrupting my vivid fantasy of slaughtering his sister like a prized pig, but because he’s darkening my space with his presence.
He brought Felicity.
There’s no other reason why she would be rubbing herself like a cat in heat all over my ... I catch myself. Recalibrate my thoughts. Remind myself I’m not crazy. The image of slicing her open and letting her blood run free down that cute sweater doesn’t stir something deep and primal inside me. Something I try very hard to contain.
“Sorry, Jasper.” I will a smile I know is tight and slightly vicious as I slide over his receipt slip. “I think it must be time for lunch. I’m getting distracted.”
He offers me an understanding little smile that almost makes me feel bad for wanting to kill his sister.
That’s a lie.
No regrets.
