Page 16 of Accidentally Kidnapping the Hitman

My apartment is small and kinda messy, with books and magazines left in piles by the walls and yesterday’s sweater tossed on the sofa. This morning’s empty coffee mug is at the breakfast bar in my tiny kitchen. My neck cracks as I whip my gaze around, peering into every shadowy corner in case Dean beat me here somehow, but there’s no movement.

I’m alone.

Skin clammy with sweat, I turn back to the peephole and stare out into the corridor without blinking. My fingertips twitch as they remember the smooth hilt of that knife.

Can’t believe Ikissedhim.

Can’t believe I pressed up against him like that, rolling my hips to the beat, humping his thigh and sucking on his wicked tongue.

My lower belly gives a traitorous throb at the thought, and my next breath is shaky. I squeeze my thighs together, still watching the corridor like a hawk. Stupid body. It has zero survival instinct.

Because Dean Kinner is a dangerous man. A dangerous man who pretended to be his twin brother and let me drag him all over the city tonight, for mysterious reasons of his own. Why the hell did he let me do that?

Maybe he was bored.

Or maybe he had something terrible planned for me—a violent fate.

But even as the panicked thought crosses my mind, my hind brain dismisses it immediately. If Dean wanted to hurt me, he could have done it a thousand times tonight. And up until the moment my fingertips brushed his knife, there wasn’t a single moment with him that I felt anything less than perfectly safe.

Secure.

Cherished, even.

Oh,god.

A low buzz starts in my backpack, vibrating against my spine, and I nearly jolt out of my skin. It takes an embarrassingly long time for my stressed brain to calm down and recognize the sound: my phone buzzing as I receive a call.

Dean?

Despite everything, I whip the backpack off so fast my shoulder twinges. Then I remember: there’s no way it’s Dean calling me. He doesn’t have my number. If he really didn’t follow me home, he doesn’t know where I live, either. The thought staggers me, and I slump against my front door, head spinning.

Tonight was a random meeting. A one in a million chance.

And there’s no way for Dean to contact me again.

I freaked out and ran away, and now there’s no way for either of us to reach out. I took that one in a million chance, and I tossed it into the wind.Shit.

Did I do the right thing?

It was smart to run from a man with a knife. Rational.

So why does my chest ache like crazy? Why am I blinking away sudden tears?

My hands are clumsy, and it takes forever to dig my phone out of my backpack. When I see Wyatt’s name lighting up the screen, I sniffle and swipe my thumb to accept the call.

“H-hello?”

“Annie,” my best friend says, brisk and familiar. There are faint beeps and the hum of conversation in the background—hospital sounds. “I got pulled into an emergency surgery and forgot to call. I’m so sorry. Were you waiting in the bar long?”

“Um.” My wrist dabs at my nose as I sniffle back tears. Was I waiting long? Not really, because I found Dean and lassoed him with a feather boa. And heletme. “No.”

“You sound upset.” Wyatt’s tone is flat, but it’s not because he doesn’t care. This is how he gets when faced with emotional outbursts: he goes into problem-solving robot mode. Sometimesit drives me completely insane, and sometimes, like tonight, it’s as comforting as a warm blanket. My eyes close, and I take a shuddering breath. “That’s completely reasonable. I’ll reimburse you for whatever activities you had booked, and we’ll do the bachelor party another night. Are you free on the 15th?”

To relive everything that happened with Dean? No, thanks. I am not.

“That’s okay. I know you were only humoring me with the whole bachelor night thing. I wanted it more than you did.”

I canhearWyatt’s frown, even through the phone. “It was important to you, though. I wouldn’t have missed it deliberately, Annie. I promise that I forgot.”

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