Page 50 of Killer Kiss

It wasn’t the woman on the phone’s fault Ophelia was a stubborn pain in my ass, but I snapped at her anyway. “Who wants to know?”

The woman cleared her throat. “I’m from The City Daily.”

“Never heard of it. Not interested in subscribing. Bye.”

I went to end the call, but the woman’s voice cut through before I could get my thumb to the button. “No, wait! I’m not a salesperson. I’m a reporter. I saw the missing posters for your friend Fawn, and when I called the police information line, they gave me your name and number as the contact person for all media inquiries.”

I frowned. “We haven’t had any media inquiries.”

The woman cleared her throat and spoke a little more calmly now she’d caught my attention and I wasn’t hanging up on her. “Well, you do now.”

A tiny kernel of excitement lit up inside me, but I wasn’t exactly the most cheerful of people at the best of times, so I only replied with, “About time.”

The woman, to her credit, ignored my blunt answer and carried on like I actually knew how to be pleasant. “I’d like to interview you, if possible. I want to run a story on Fawn and who she is. Does that sound good to you?”

I nodded quickly then corrected myself by answering. “Yeah, it does. When and where?”

“Are you local to the city?”

“Sure. I can afford those multimillion-dollar apartments on a stripper wage. No sweat.”

The woman went silent on the other end, and I thumped my thigh with a closed fist, because fucking hell. My mouth had a mind of its own.

“Sorry. I mean, no. I’m out at Saint View.”

“Saint View?”

I prickled at her tone. “Is there a problem with that?”

“No, of course not. I can meet you there if you tell me a time and a place. I’m afraid I’m not very familiar with the area.”

I rolled my eyes. Lucky her. I wished I wasn’t familiar with this shithole of a town either. “There’s a diner on the main strip. Sally’s at Saint View. I’ll meet you there at midday.”

I ended the call before she could agree or disagree and went back to cleaning every inch of my house, trying to erase the floral scent that reminded me of Ophelia. Had she rubbed her perfume all over the damn house, or was that scent just a figment of my imagination? Considering I’d gone through a packet of lemon-scented cleaning wipes, I was beginning to think it was the latter.

Just fucking great. A reminder of her I couldn’t ever escape.

Fuck my life.

By the time midday rolled around, I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept because all I could think about was fucking that woman while Ophelia watched from downstairs. The way she’d driven off with a squeal of tires had been satisfying for all of three seconds before I’d felt like shit.

I couldn’t sleep after that. I knew exactly what I’d done.

So when I walked into Sally’s I was already grouchy. But Sally’s wide smile was hard to be mad about. She waved at me enthusiastically from behind the counter and told me she’d bring over my regular. I couldn’t help but return the smile.

The woman was the only reason I ate most days. Her place, despite being right in the heart of the slums, was A plus. Those Michelin-star chefs could go fuck themselves with their fancy food. Sally’s burgers and Eve’s stew was where it was at if you asked me.

It was the middle of the lunchtime rush, and I glanced around the room, looking for a free booth to sit at. I loved this place, and some of my irritation with the world seeped away as the noise of the diner cocooned me.

Until my gaze came to a screeching halt on a dark-brown set of eyes staring at me from a booth in the back.

Hell. Fucking. No. This was my goddamn happy place. I had so few of them, she wasn’t taking this one. She could go eat burgers on the Providence side of the border. I was pretty sure she was too stuck-up for greasy fries and burgers anyway. Surely, she was one of those assholes who preferred their food in tiny smears of puree across a plate with a smattering of something nobody could pronounce.

I stormed to the back of the restaurant. “Get out.”

She studied a menu like my demands meant nothing to her. “Good morning to you too, Augie. Enjoy your fuckfest last night?”

I raised an eyebrow. Oh, we were going there, were we? I slid into the opposite side of the booth. “Question is, did you? Since you were the creepy little perv sitting outside my house watching—and listening—to the entire fucking thing!”

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