Page 16 of The Heart of Midnight

The tension in his shoulders reaches a peak and then dissipates entirely as he leans into my hand. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while since Muerte has struck and it’s freaking me out that he seems to want you.”

“He can’t have me,” I say more confidently than I should, but for some reason I just know Muerte won’t hurt me. Scar won’t let him, and seeing he cares this much has my stomach doing somersaults. Is this our moment? The one that changes everything? “I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes drop to my lips again as his hand snakes around to the back of my head, tangling in my hair. “And I’ll do what I can to keep you safe,” he whispers. “I just wish that was enough. Goodnight, Avery.”

My heart flutters as he leans in, but the bastard kisses my forehead and turns to leave instead of giving me what I want. I should run after him, I should yell for him to come back to me and demand he face these feelings with me, and yet instead all I do is numbly fall backwards onto my bed. There’s something holding him back, something he isn’t ready to share with me, and one day... I’m going to figure it out. Scarcello Solis can’t hide from me forever.

Eleven

Scar

I need to fucking kill someone. I’m strung so fucking tight I almost threw it all away with Avery, and since I can’t avoid going back over there forever, I guess someone else is gonna have to pay the price.

Normally, I stalk my victims for at least a week to make sure I know their movements and who will likely miss them when they’re gone. I decide ahead of time if I’m going to bury them or leave their body to be discovered, figure out exactly what I want to do to them and how I want to end them, then choose exactly where I’ll take them from.

It’s a methodical, cathartic process that leaves me feeling calm and refreshed, but I don’t have time for that right now. After telling my shitbag boss that I have a migraine and need to go home, I hide my bike and double back to the junkers to slip inside that crappy Pontiac. There’s a trail behind the shop that leads to an access road, and from there, I’m on the highway unseen.

Not knowing where to go has me feeling a little untethered. It’s the kind of feeling that tells me today might be the day I make a mistake that gets me caught, though I’m not sure I could stop myself now if I tried. I may not know who I’m taking, but I know what I want — what Ineed— to do to whoever it is.

My first potential target comes in the form of a girl in a broken down 4X4 on the side of the main highway. Traffic is almost non-existent this time of day and she’s standing by the hood looking like she needs help, making her an easy mark for a guy like me. Yet as I get closer, I see she’s all wrong. She’s blonde, not brunette, and she’s too skinny. Compared to Avery’scurves, this bitch looks terrible. Like a twig that wouldn’t offer an ounce of satisfaction when it breaks.

So no, not her. Congratulations, lady. You get to live.

Instead, I head deeper into Saint City proper and turn into a development that is still under construction. Rumor has it a few couples live here already, but most of these houses are still on the market, making it a perfect spot to hide a body for a few days. Yeah, this will work. In, out, and on my way without anyone even knowing.

After the first couple of streets, it’s easy to tell which houses have occupants and which don’t. My only criteria becomes someone home alone who lives next to one of these newer builds, and I find one quickly enough. The garage is open, giving me an easy way in and telling me two things right off the bat: the husband, if he’s home, isn’t like me. He has no tools, nothing that could resemble a weapon, and his taste in cars is questionable at best. My guess is he’s an accountant type or some kind of executive if he can afford to live here, and in my experience, they’d rather throw money at you than put up a fight.

Too bad for them that money doesn’t mean a goddamn thing to me.

Cock stirring with the anticipation of a kill, I park around the block and slip into the stupid red and black Muerte mask I’m apparently married to now. I was already wearing all black under my coveralls. The only thing I’m missing is the bag I usually bring along with ropes, knives, and industrial grade cleaners, though I’m not worried about it. I’ve always been good on my feet.

Despite the daylight, sneaking through backyards to get to the garage is easy enough, and I chuckle to myself when I find the door to the inside of the house unlocked. I pause to listen forany signs of a dog or other animal who might get in my way, and when I find none, I shut the door behind me and deadbolt it.

The sound of a reality TV show reaches my ears and I follow it with silent footsteps through the spotless kitchen and to the living room. Peeking around the corner, I see a short little brunette curled up on the couch eating popcorn. She doesn’t know I’m here yet. Checking out the rest of the house, I clock the stairs just behind her and a short hallway that leads to rooms with closed doors. My guess is the bedrooms are upstairs, and as my cock thickens to the point where reason leaves me, I realize the planning stage is done already. It’s time to fucking move.

Sneaking up behind her, I wrap one arm around her throat and my other hand over her mouth, dragging her over the back of the couch and toward the stairs. She screams and thrashes and kicks, but she’s barely bigger than Avery. It’s more annoying than effective.

“Stop,” I snap, not bothering to disguise my voice since she won’t be alive to identify it. “I won’t hurt you if you do what I say.”

She screams behind my hand again, pissing me off. I get her up the rest of the stairs and kick open the first door, which happens to be a bathroom, not a bedroom. Whatever. I can do what I need to here. I throw her on the floor and slam the door behind us, getting my first good look at her. She’s got the right hair but that’s about where the similarities end. She’s not one I’d have chosen if I could really take my time like I normally do, yet she’s the one here now and it’s too late to stop.

“Strip,” I command. “Be quick about it.”

Terrified green eyes stare up at me as she scrambles back and curls into the fetal position, begging me for something through incoherent sobs. It’s clear she won’t be following directions.

“For fuck’s sake. Do you want to be alive when your husband gets home?” I ask, bending over to rip the flower-print pajamashorts off of her. “Or do you want him to walk in and find your body in fucking pieces, strewn all over your pretty new house?”

“Please!” she screams, and the sound is so grating to my ears that I nearly knock her out. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll give you whatever you want, we have money! Jewelry! Whatever you want!”

Tilting my head, I offer her a single, deep chuckle. “What I want is you. What’s your name?”

“S-Sara,” she stutters. “What’s yours?”

I ignore the obvious probe and move a little slower as I rip the white tank top off her body. She isn’t wearing a bra, but the sight of her tits does nothing for me. They’re big enough, sure, but the shape and colors are wrong. They’re not Avery’s.

Who cares? I’m only here because I can’t fucking have her anyway.

“What’s your name?” she asks again, trying and failing to cover herself with her arms. “I told you mine.”

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