Page 166 of Bake the Town Red

But I can’t deny how nice it was to have him here, playing with me. Giving them a huge dose of my special caramel recipe. Their mouths got a taste of the scorching, sticky liquid. Their nostrils. Ears. They’ll never forget the sweetness of it. Not even in hell.

Tyler slides his hands up to my throat, coasting over my tattoo and landing on my cheeks. He doesn’t talk. Doesn’t need to.

Being in love doesn’t mean my senses have dulled. Something’s different about him.

Something beneath the surface only I can see.

“What is it, Ty?”

“I have a surprise for you.” Tyler lowers one hand to my waist. Runs a hot trail of kisses from my neck to my jaw. To my ear. “It’s waiting for you at home. Ready for tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. The night we kill Johnathan. The night we planned here in my bakery. It’s finally happening.

I almost forgot, with how much I’m desperate for the man I have here. Right fucking here.

With me.

With. Me.

I’ll probably keep saying that to myself for a while. Until it sinks in. Until I fucking feel like it.

I don’t have to chase my man anymore. Don’t have to force him out of his heroic, troubled thoughts.

Nope. He’s here.

Tyler’s here.

Before I’m consumed by my possessive thoughts, I clear my throat. Tilt my chin up. “I felt him this afternoon. In the shop. You had an online conference. I saw that in your schedule, and—”

“I’ll never get enough of you stalking me,” Tyler growls.

“I’ll never stop stalking you, so that’s good.” I clutch his hoodie. “Listen, Ty. I’m serious. You were home and someone had been watching me. Do you think he could be outside? That tonight’s the night he tries to kill us?”

“No.” One word. A decisive shake of his head. “I double-checked earlier this evening. Went over every new comment on FyndUsHere. A conceited fucker like him would’ve announced himself.”

“Maybe he’ll make an exception?” My lips pinch, and I lower my voice in case he’s outside. “Since we’re special and all?”

I already know the answer. I know, because I’m the exact same. No one has been or ever will be murdered in my back-back room between November 1stand September 30th. Doesn’t matter how much I loathe them.

If I break my own rules, what kind of murderer will I be?

A horrible one, and that’s a fact.

“He won’t.”

“Rude.” I sigh dramatically. Tyler laughs at my theatrics every single time. “I mean, I took a target off my list for him.”

Tyler’s eyes brighten when he does what I need him to. Laugh again. His breath warms my skin. The throaty sound sends shivers up my spine.

“My guess is, he’s holding off until tomorrow. Everyone will be out trick or treating. Or going to parties. The date doesn’t mean shit to him like it does to us. What he needs is anonymity.” Ty lowers his voice another octave, whispering in my ear. “He likes crowded places. That’s his pattern. He won’t deviate from it. You’re safe with me.”

“What’s the surprise, then?” Tyler won’t allow me to draw back. To look at him. His hand is an iron branding my skin. “Tyler, you’re being an asshole.”

Another dark chuckle. I’m getting addicted to those. Addicted, as in, I would die without another hit every day for the rest of my macabre existence.

“I’ll give you a hint.”

He raises his head eventually, gazing down at me. His eyes are heated. Both his hands take mine, placing them around his neck. His slide lower to my waist, and he’s leading me as if we were in a school dance.

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