Page 33 of One Killer Night
Swallowing again, this time with more ease, I glance back at her, hoping to soak in some more calm and maybe another pervy look.
She’s so blissful. I want that.
Did I lock the front door?
The thought seems random, but it’s not.
It’s funny how peace triggers chaos. But I guess that’s the best description of life because one never veers too far away from the other. Unexpected bedfellows of sorts. So, I guess if she’s peace, then I’m admittedly chaos.
My eyes search the darkness. I’m still wondering ...When we came in, we were going at it ... did I remember ...
Ever so gently, I draw my arm from under Goldie because there’s no point in second-guessing myself or debating from under warm sheets. I know, from experience, that the only thing that will quell the paranoia or ease my worry is to just fucking check.
She smiles in her sleep the moment I’m free, mumbling something I can’t quite make out. It makes me grin. And I swear my fingers act of their own accord, brushing an errant strand of hair from her eyes.
How is someone so cute when they sleep?
Easing off the bed, I look around the floor for my boxer briefs, noticing the time on my clock we apparently knocked off the nightstand. It’s lying on top of my underwear. I shake my head and tug them on before heading out of my room.
As I quietly shut my bedroom door behind me, I’m encased in more darkness. None of the lights are on. But we didn’t bother earlier, too busy stripping each other down in the moonlight, like a pair of horny teenagers trying to bone before her parents came home. Now, though, it’s as if someone’s stolen the moon.
Thankfully, my eyes have adjusted as I navigate the long straight shot through my kitchen into the living room. At least that’s what I think before I trip over my discarded shoes, then hers.
“Goddammit,” I huff, kicking the shit out of the way, walking off my stubbed toe.
With one hand running through my hair, my other reaches for the door handle, twisting it, even though I know it’s an automatic lock, before I check the dead bolt.
Unlocked.The click to secure it is as loud as my irritation.
Grinding my jaw, I draw back the curtain from my window to inspect the street, searching up and down the quiet. It’s exactly what 2:00 a.m. should feel like on a Friday night—empty and sleepy. Everyone’s either still partying, passed out, or grown up.
There’s nobody. But I still can’t shake the faint worry ofsomebody.
A car alarm sounds, making my head whip in its direction, but it’s cut off just as quickly.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself, hating that I can’t make my mind stop.
Go back to bed, and it’ll stop.I let the curtain close and shake my arms out.We do still have the counter and the floor to accomplish.
The tension in my shoulders dissipates slowly, easing off as I inhale. I’m turning around to head back to the gorgeous woman in my bed, and as I do, my eyes drop down to the floor. I’ve left the curtains open just enough that the streetlights created a streak over the carpet, exposing the large, dingy brown envelope peeking out from under the couch.
I narrow on it, my jaw tensing.
When I kicked the shoes out of the way, I must have shoved one under and hit it. I glance toward the hall that leads to my bedroom before I bend and drag it out.
Unable to stop myself, I tug at the rigid string wrapped around the button that holds it all closed, unwinding it before I open it and reach inside, sliding out the first thing I touch.
The worn newspaper clipping is barely readable save the headline as I stare down, feeling the familiar hollowness in my chest as my heart picks up pace.
Massacre Leaves Broken Hearts in Small Town
I glance toward the hallway again before choosing another.
Body Never Found
Adrenaline floods my system in waves. I’m shivering but not cold. I glare at the thin paper between my fingers, fixated on those three words:Body Never Found.
My skin tingles like I’m wired. Like every nerve ending in my body’s sparking at the same time, my jaw instantly sore with the power with which I grind my teeth.
