Page 40 of The Woman in the Hollow
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hazel
I managed to avoid running into Dante for the next few days, giving me some much-needed space to try to get my head on straight about my attraction to him.
Attraction, I decided, was involuntary. It was primal, chemical, some weird magic of the universe that defied logic or even preference.
It was why I’d known several guys who were perfect on paper, who were the exact right matches for me, but with whom there’d been no physical attraction—at least on my part.
Yet then there was that guy in the leather jacket who smoked—and I hated cigarettes—and barely had two brain cells to rub together, and I swear I nearly panted at the sight of him each time I came across him.
The problem with Dante was that there wasn’t just that spark; there was interest too. Because he was not only gorgeous, but he was a great son, brother, and uncle. He had fascinating interests and great vision when it came to his business and the renovations on his home.
If only I could be sure he was being honest with me.
With a grumble, I scrubbed harder at the side of the coffin. It wasn’t a decorative one, either. It was a genuine, full-sized coffin because one of our performers actually lay inside of it for the shift to jump out at random guests passing by.
I had no idea where the hell all this stuff was going to be stored once the Halloween season shifted toward Christmas and we had to transform the haunted house into Santa’s Workshop.
“Ugh, seriously?” I said as I found another wad of chewing gum, this time on the side of one of the skeletons.
People were gross.
Cleaning the haunted house wasn’t usually my job. I’d just come to work early to meet with the guy dropping off more straw. Then I’d gotten bored and decided to tackle the haunted house—both cleaning and sanitizing. It seemed like everyone was dropping like flies with the flu lately, and I wanted to make sure our staff wasn’t constantly touching disease-ridden decor.
The whole space stank of lemon disinfectant. I’d even sprayed down the signs on the wall and all the faces of the creepy dolls.
I was just standing near the window we had covered with a sign claiming there was no exit when I heard voices that had my stomach tensing.
My gaze shot to the door, wondering if I should run in that direction to quickly lock it.
But I tamped down that desire, keeping my feet firmly planted in place, reminding myself that there were a lot of staff, and it wasn’t implausible to think some might show up early.
Besides, if they were thieves or something, there were plenty of places to hide inside the haunted house. There was so much clutter to escape behind.
And I had my phone.
I was okay.
“Getting fucking sick of this place, not gonna lie,” one of the voices said.
Annoyance immediately tracked up my spine, made my lip curl, ready to charge out there and tell them that if they were sick of it, they could find a new job.
“Did Dante give you any kind of end date?” the other voice replied.
So, not the performers or employees.
These were the guys who’d almost become background noise, since they’d been around endlessly.
They were always around, three or four of them at least every night.
When I did stop to think about them and their presence, all I could conclude was they only further confirmed my suspicions that Dante had been lying to me. Why else would he feel the need to have some sort of… security hanging about? Because what else could they possibly be? They never actuallydidanything but walk around and watch the goings-on.
Clearly, they were on the lookout for something. Or someone.
Like the knife-wielding monster who’d mercilessly murdered someone in the woods.
I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop. But I found myself leaning closer to the closed window, glad that the men had deep voices that carried.
