Page 76 of Oliver

“You can’t stay here, Penny. You’re alone.”

“So, where am I supposed to go?” she asks stiffly, and I hide my amusement. Here’s the spicy girl I love.

“You know where.”

“Ramsay’s? I don’t belong there.” She flings out a hand and I grab it before pulling her to me.

“You belong wherever I say.”

Her eyes go wide before they narrow. “Is that so?”

“Yes. Pack.”

I let her go and move toward the door while she stares at me. I figure she needs a minute to regroup. Besides, I haven’t checked the house yet.

Everything above the stairs seems to be in order although I make a mental note to ask about Dixie’s open door before heading to the main floor.

The living room is dark and quiet. The kitchen is equally so, but I pause by the sliding window. There’s a weird smear across the glass and when I flip on the light, I see why.

Resting on the mat is a dead animal, which from here may be a cat but I’m not keen on looking too closely. Still, the odds of getting Penny out of here without seeing this are slim, so with a sigh, I search around for a garbage bag, marveling at the seemingly fifty boxes of aluminum foil before grabbing the rubber gloves from the sink and exiting out the back door.

The balmy heat hits me like a heavy weight and I suck in a breath before wrinkling my nose. Shit. Whatever poor creature ended up here, it’s been dead for a while because it fucking stinks.

After peeling it off the mat, I shove it in the bag and stand, only to freeze. What the fuck is that?

My pulse thumps and I lean over, peering at the fleshy colored stick before I realize, it’s a fucking finger. Someone left a dead cat and a human finger for Penny.

What the fuck?

Grinding my teeth, I look around before swiping it up in my gloved hands. Judging by the size, it’s a man’s finger. But who’s?

I can’t exactly throw it in the fucking garbage, so I set it aside and dispose of the dead animal before retrieving one of those boxes of foil and wrapping the finger inside.

I’m not clear on what I plan to do with it. Putting it in my pocket isn’t high on my list of bright ideas but if I leave it here, I’m risking it being found.

Penny appears in the threshold, making the decision for me. She eyes me with a weird frown, but I ignore it and grab her bag.

“Let’s go.”

She’s suspiciously quiet as she follows me to my car but all I can think about all the way home is the fucking finger in my pocket.

Who put it there? Why?

Chapter 24

What’s a soul but another thing to steal?

Penny

With a groan, I roll over and bite back a squeal. Holy shit. I’m in bed with someone.

When I peek beyond my covers, I find Oliver’s smooth skin facing me and mentally sigh. Wow. He’s beautiful but with the tattoo—an eagle in flight with its wings spanning his shoulder blades—he’s breathtaking.

What does it mean to him?

A desire to be free?

All the way to Ramsay’s last night, we argued until I finally wore Oliver down and he admitted that Bone approached him worried about Dixie. The fucker has some explaining to do, but in the meantime, it makes me reconsider Oliver’s motivation.

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