Page 27 of Follow Her Down
As I head to the kitchen, I can feel his gaze on me as I pour two fingers of cheap whiskey into mismatched glasses I bought at Dollar General.The weight of his attention should make me nervous, but it makes my skin tingle.When I turn, he’s watching me with an intensity that has nothing to do with his job.
I hand him the glass, our fingers brushing.The contact sends a charge through me, and I see it reflected in his eyes—this unexpected, unwanted heat.
He takes a sip, letting the silence stretch between us.
“You’re not safe here, Sera,” he says quietly.“And I don’t just mean because of the serial killer.”
I lock eyes with him.“You think I don’t know that?”
His voice drops lower.“I don’t think you care.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
The storm seems to hold its breath.The house goes still around us, waiting.
“Do you believe in ghosts?”I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.
Eddie doesn’t laugh at me or dismiss the question.Instead, he seems to consider it, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I believe in things that won’t stay buried,” he finally answers.
Our eyes hold a moment too long.The air between us feels electrified, dangerous.Not just with attraction, but with something darker, like mutual recognition of the monsters we’ve seen.
Shadow Daddy knocks again, hard, below us, like a warning.What would he do if I impaled myself on the detective’s cock and rode him screaming into next week?Tear down the whole house around us?Join the fun with his shadow fingers strumming my clit?The thought clenches my thighs together and perks my nipples.
Eddie finishes his whiskey and sets the glass down on the coffee table.“I should go.”
Part of me sags in disappointment.
At the door, he pauses, rain still falling beyond the porch.“Lock up behind me.”
“This door is never not locked,” I tell him.
“Call if you need anything.”He hands me his card from his jacket pocket.“Anything.Anytime.”
After he’s gone, I stand in the hallway listening to the rain, the card still warm in my hand from his body heat.At the top of the stairs, my bedroom door creaks open an inch, a sliver of darkness breathing into the hall.
“Are you going to punish me for my sins?”I ask with a smile.
Shadow Daddy growls a sweet, sweet promise that soaks my panties within seconds.
One man stares through me.The other wants to crawl inside me.
I’m still not sure which is more dangerous.
13
Sera
Rickhasbeenwatchingme all shift.
Not the usual lazy, leering stares.This is sharper, hungrier.Even though he’s “working,” he smells like whiskey, the scent clinging to him like a second skin.He’s been nursing a bottle in the back office, the amber liquid glowing under his desk lamp whenever he cracks the door open.
I’ve counted the intervals when he slips back there, and it’s every forty-five minutes.Liquid courage for whatever he’s planning.
He steps into the back room where I’m restocking sodas.I feel him before I see him, the shift in the air, the sudden, oppressive weight of his stare.I keep my back to him, pretending to rearrange cans.My fingers brush the cool metal of a Coke can, and I imagine driving it into his temple.
“If both of us are back here, customers might rob the place,” I say with a glance over my shoulder to gauge his distance.
