Page 38 of A Twisted Arrangement

“Really not the time, Jeremy.” Well, now I’m officially happy this guy ghosted me. He’s a complete psycho with an obvious death wish.

I’m pretty sure if I don’t do something soon, Oliver is going to off him in the street, and how the hell am I supposed to explain that?

“Take me home, please. My run’s ruined anyway,” I say with a smile, Oliver’s glare not affecting me at all.

He’s all bark and no bite.

It’s only after I get into the back seat of the car that I put the pepper spray away and watch through the window as Oliver warns him off. Whatever he says has Jeremy nodding and slumped forward, almost like a disciplined dog.

Oliver gets in and doesn’t say a word, clearly going for the mature silent treatment.

“I’m fine,” I say, not ready to talk about what Jeremy had revealed. I need a few more pieces before I’ll be ready to deal with this situation. Oliver’s worked for me for years, but I learned long ago that there are some things I need to take care of myself.

His eyes glance back through the rearview mirror before looking forward.

Okay, so I probably shouldn’t have done that, but it’s not like I wasn’t prepared.

It’s the pounding of my heart threatening to break my ribs and the way I have to clench my trembling fists that gives away the fact that I wasn’t as safe as I’m pretending I was. That a simple misstep could’ve let that guy get too close. I clench my teeth and push that thought away. I’m not that girl anymore. Let them get close—it’s better for fighting technique that way. What I lack in size and reach, I more than make up for in speed and technical skills.

I drum my fingers on the windowsill, already feeling better when suspicion seeps in. “How did you know where I was?”

Oliver stiffens, his hands tightening on the wheel. “Just a guess.”

I close my eyes as the sun turns the sky pink. Damn good guess.

Chapter 20

Matthias

I watchas Oliver’s taillights disappear around the corner. It drives me crazy that I’m not the one taking her home, but I have something very important to take care of. I step out of the shadows and smile sharply at Jeremy.

“Shit.” He stumbles backward instantly. “Hi, I didn’t mean to run into her, I swear.”

“I thought we had an agreement. You wouldn’t go near her, and I wouldn’t have to kill you?” I slide a blade from my pocket and take my time picking at my nails. Part of the torture is always the anticipation. I won’t have long to get this done, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it. “Tell me, Jeremy. Do you think you held up your end of the bargain?”

“Seriously, I was just get...getting...coffee. I didn’t...m...mean to see her. You have to believe me.” He stutters over his words as he attempts to weasel himself out of this situation.

Unlucky for him, that’s never going to happen. “Do I?”

“What?” He’s terrified, and he really should be.

“Do I have to believe you? Because at no point did we discuss the importance of you intentionally meeting up with her. Accident or not, you should have run the second you saw her.”

He’s visibly trembling now, and I half expect him to beg the next time he speaks.

“Does she even know that you attack anyone who dates her?” He takes a step back, body turning toward the road.

I flip the knife in my hand, a flashy move I learned as a teenager. “What she knows is the least ofyourproblems.”

That’s all it takes for him to take off, but I catch his arm before he can take another step.

He’s strong but not strong enough to stop me from wrapping my forearm around his neck and dragging him backward into the alleyway where we can have some privacy.

“I’ve been watching you, and the only reason I let you live is you’ve been good. I guess you fucked that up now.”

“Wait!” is the last word Jeremy gets to say before I slice through his throat, careful not to get any blood on me. There’s a gurgling sound emanating from his throat, but it’s quiet enough that I’m not too concerned anyone will hear him. It’d be a shame to have to buy out whoever witnessed this, but then again, it would be worth it to see the light in his eyes go out.

When he’s finally done and his body’s gone limp, I cut through the fabric of his jacket and his shirtsleeve, revealing his upper arm, where the faint white scar sits on his bicep. The tip of my knife pierces his muscle easily, revealing the black pill-size tracker.

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