Page 51 of Bake the Town Red

“You love me.”

“Yes.” I didn’t let go. “I love you.”

“I love you back.”

I stayed with her throughout the entire day. A year later, tragedy struck. Ian came back with a vengeance. Slaughtered every neighbor throughout the building for failing to help him save Dahlia all those years ago.

Sitting up, I tap my fingers on my dining table and look around my dark apartment. I’m wide awake even though it’s pushing two in the morning.

Where is she?

Back in her apartment, probably. Sleeping.

I could stay here. Ishouldstay here.

We’re cursed. We’re cursed. We’re cursed.

Boots. Jeans. My favorite black hoodie.

There’s hardly anyone outside on my walk over to Dahlia’s home. The late night’s chill seeps through my clothes no matter how fast I walk. My home is far, far behind me, and I’m still not anywhere near warm.

I’m determined, though. This pain in my chest. This longing that pulls me to her.

My hands go to my hoodie pockets. I lower my head. Pick up my pace to match the beating of my heart.

Every pore in my body comes alive the closer I am to Dahlia.

A sleeping Dahlia. That’s how it won’t count. If she’s asleep. If she’s not up, then we’re not actually together. I won’t be a complete bastard who’ll be responsible for her death.

Just a taste. Just one fucking taste.

Damn her fire escape for dropping without a fight. For putting her—yes, even a murderer like her—in danger. Someone could creep up and hurt her.

Only they won’t. As long as I’m out of the picture, no one will touch her.

She’ll be safe.

The climb to the second floor is one I’m familiar with. My muscles don’t protest on the way up. They take me up there, to her.

No one hears or cares that a man in a hoodie sneaks up here in the middle of the night. That’s a given. No one’s ever called the police when I hang out here in the shadows. I don’t imagine they’ll start tonight.

I peek into her apartment, searching for her. The lights in the living room are out. As are the ones in her room. Darkness permeates beneath her closed bedroom door.

Even if I can’t see her, I’m sure she’s sleeping.

For five nights in a row, she’s been killing people. Disposing of their bodies all by herself. Wakes up at the crack of dawn to start over.

Bake, sell, kill, repeat.

There’s no way she’s up at two-thirty in the morning.

This is the best time to have her. The only time I can have her.

The lock on her window and I are friends by now. It gives, and I climb inside Dahlia’s apartment.

My heart doesn’t beat the same when I’m in her space. Not slow or fast. Different. Everything’s different around her.

Unhinged. Feral. Wild.

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