Page 4 of Unmasked

Exiting her room, I gesture at the elevator. “I’m gonna grab a drink and see if I can round up some football players to help me with your mattress.”

I don’t give Meg a chance to answer before dashing to it, stabbing the button for the ground floor.

Exiting the apartment building doors, I head to the red tent with the sign above it that says, “Free Bottled Water.” I smile at the older lady as she hands one to me.

Uncapping it, I take a drink, pacing along the sidewalk. I walk past the black car, pull my phone from my pocket, and pretend to read a text.

Ensuring no one is watching, I move closer to the car, snapping a picture of the plate. I examine it before walking away, a smile curving my lips.

Spotting the football players, I approach them, telling them about the mattress. Two guys agree, and we head to my truck and unload it.

When we get off the elevator, Mallory stands there with Edward. She beckons us to exit before she and Edward step inside.

I’m still distracted as I carry Megan’s mattress inside her apartment and place it on the bed frame. Luckily, Meg doesn’t notice, too preoccupied with directing me to move the furniture where she wants it.

When we finish, she shoves her hands in her pockets, eying me wearily. “Don’t hover. I promise I’ll be okay. I’ll call or text if I need anything.”

“Relax, Meg. I won’t hover because you’re no longer living with Uncle Bryson. You know how to reach me anytime you need me.”

“Thanks, Stryker.”

Nodding, I step forward and hug her. We may not besiblings, but Megan has always felt like my younger sister. Our five-year age difference has never deterred our bond. I’ve always looked out for her.

My thoughts go to Uncle Bryson. I hate that he’s battling cancer. It should be my piece of shit father, who abandoned my mom and me when we were young, suffering.

Meg steps back, and I shake the thoughts away, not wanting to bring her down. She’s beginning a new life at Stone Ridge University and deserves to enjoy life as a twenty-year-old college student chasing her dreams.

“The girl I was talking to in the hallway is Brooke. We met at New Student Orientation. She and I are gonna have dinner in the dining hall if you wanna join us?”

I debate for a few seconds before shaking my head. There’s a chance I might see Mallory if I go with them, but it’s slim.

My time would be better used by hacking into her life. “Nah, I’m good. I have some stuff to do for work. I’ll grab something on the way home.”

“Thanks again, Stryker. You’re the best.”

“Anytime, pipsqueak. You know that.” I ruffle her hair, making her laugh before she pushes me away.

I wave before I walk out her door, my thoughts already on the strawberry-blonde goddess I met earlier.

I’ve never felt anything like this before. One chance encounter, and she already possesses me, taking over my mind. My body craves her, an unquenchable thirst that consumes me.

I pass the elevator and head down the hallway toward her room. My pace slows as I draw closer, my thoughts churning as I wonder if she’s inside.

You’re mine, Mallory. I will possess you, just like you’ve possessed me.

CHAPTER 5

Mallory

Ishiver, crossing my arms over my chest as I walk outside, debating whether to turn around and grab a jacket. It’s much cooler up here in the mountains of Stone Ridge, warning me that summer is ending and fall is near.

I keep moving, deciding against the jacket. My pace is brisk as I think about the events of the past few months. I’m glad to be on campus instead of being controlled by my parents.

They spent the past three months dragging me around the country, setting me up with one handsome actor after another in their quest to convince me to give up my dreams of going to college. They insist I should follow in their footsteps and join the Hollywood elite. But there’s nothing that excites me less than that world.

My mom never understood my disinterest in the actors she set me up with. She was appalled that I love men with tattoos and a bad boy vibe.

Sure, I’ve had sex with a few actors, but I didn’t enjoy it. Either my peers were exaggerating about how great it was, or I was with the wrong men. The only thing they cared about was getting themselves off and to hell with me. The number oftimes I finished myself off with my fingers or a vibrator made me want to stay home, read an erotic novel, and use my toys instead.

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