Page 44 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
And before he could think better of it, he vaulted himself over it. It was easy since the finials only came up to his mid-thigh. Still he held his breath; the last thing he needed was to become impaled by one and live through the embarrassment of Cristiano having to come pick him up.
Landing softly on the other side, Mikko took a couple seconds to calm his erratic breathing. While he was in excellent shape, the excitement pulsing through his body made it difficult to keep himself under control.
Get in, find the evidence you need, and get out.
This act was nothing more than business.
Business.
A word he’d used with Anika and she’d thrown it back in his face. The universe had a funny sense of humor, one Mikko didn’t find himself enjoying.
A concrete sidewalk cut through her front yard, its narrow path light against the darkened grass. A decorative covered porch loomed ahead of him, swathed mostly in shadow despite the porch light shining next to her front door. More flowerbeds overflowed with plants nearby, all of which were still green, but the incoming autumn chill would soon change everything. Creeping closer, he took his phone out, snapping a couple pictures of the vegetation. He’d lookup what the species were later.
Maybe if I send a bouquet of flowers to her office containing similar plants, she’ll be rethinking our dance?
An image of her out there in the summer sun, tending to her plants, teased him. Dirt on her hands, knees in the soil, and sweat dripping down her neck as it followed a trail he wanted to suck and kiss.
Her head tipped back, cinnamon whiskey eyes peering up at him, her lips stretched around his—
A dog barking down the street snapped him out of his reverie, and he scrubbed at his covered face.
Fuck.
His mind was operating without his command, taking him into the deep, depraved recesses existing there. He was in so much trouble if he didn’t shape thefuckup. He allowed himself a few more deep breaths to slow his heart before he pushed onward.
Over the past couple days, he’d been toying with different ways to get into her house, carefully considering the advantages to each entrance. In the end, the problem had solved itself. A couple days ago, while Mikko had been watching her house for anything unusual, someone had shown up.
A blonde-haired woman around Anika’s age parked in front of her house, mere car lengths away from where he was, and walked through the open gate. A detail Mikko now realized attributed to him not knowing about its squeaky nature. Regardless, her familiarity with the house let him know she was someone Anika knew and trusted. That meant Mikko could also trust her to show him what he needed.
Walking to the side door, the vines from surrounding plants reached for her as she bent down and peeled up a door mat. Straightening, Mikko had noticed she’d retrieved something shiny.
A key.
And anyone with that kind of information could let themselvesin…
It’d been fate beckoning him closer, and now he stood at the same side door, black mat at the toes of his boots. Looking around, he confirmed no one was watching before crouching down to retrieve the key. It had been etched into his memory since that moment.
Now it glinted up at him in invitation.
Quickly, he shoved it into the lock and turned the mechanism.
How many times did I stand outside, contemplating how to do this?
Now, he could finally put those thoughts to rest.
Slipping inside, blackness welcomed him as the door softly closed behind him. Briefly, he let his eyes adjust, his ears attuning to the sounds of her house—the way the wind made the branches of nearby trees brush up against it or the settling creaks that came with the old structure. He heard the humming of equipment nearby, but he was more focused on listening for animal movements. Mikko was almost positive Anika didn’t have pets, but if they were small, they might’ve slipped under his radar.
But no hisses or meows; no toenails clicking on the nearby floors or telltale barks to warn intruders.
Perfect.
Entering onto a landing, a set of steps led up to the right and another set led deeper into what he assumed to be her basement. WhileBubblegum’sbasement may hold secrets, Mikko was certain Anika’s was dark and dank. He was more interested in the rest of her house.
So up he went.
The short length of stairs protested beneath his weight, but no one was around to hear the noises. Instead, he backtracked and walked up the steps again, memorizing which ones gave him feedback and which ones didn’t. Sweat began prickling along the nape of his neck while he worked, the fabric of his balaclava and hoodie trapping his body heat in.
Satisfied with his findings, Mikko’s boot planted itself onto the tile floor at the top of the steps. Excitement buzzed in his veins; the scent of her was everywhere. It brought back the memories of her fingertips grazing across his forearm.
