Page 5 of Falling for a Killer

“Um... American Chop Suey and grilled cheese. I wasn’t aware I’d be cooking for anyone else so I went cheap and easy.”

“So you mean to tell me that if you knew there was a guy with annoying areolas squatting in your family cabin you would have splurged?”

“What a stupid question,” I scoff. “Also yes. You don’t get to judge me when your ski mask isn’t on straight and you had a boner when I got here.”

“I didn’t have a boner,” he rushes out. “And if I did, why were you even looking? I had a gun.”

Another excellent point. “The boner you absolutely had was bigger than your gun. Now move, I need to start the pasta and the grilled cheese. Get the mayo.”

“I was sleeping. It was a half-chub at best, but good to know where your head was.” He finishes up the onion and washes his hands, then grabs the mayo like he was told. “And stop bossing me around. Have you ever said please before?”

“To people who knock, yeah.”

When he reaches out and knocks on the top of my head, I don’t need to see his face to know he’s grinning like an asshole. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”

It takes a few seconds to close my mouth again. I’d like to punch him in the face, but he’s still within arms reach of both a gun and a knife big enough to hurt like hell. It’s enough of a deterrent that I don’t say anything else until dinner is plated and my stomach is growling again. “Enjoy, I guess.”

“I think I liked it better when you were insulting me.” He sits down across from me with the gun to his right, and how quickly he inhales three huge bites makes me wonder how long he’s been on the run. Or if he’s been to prison. “So who’s Ryan?”

He’s still wearing a mask and that gun isn’t far. What makes him think I want to get to know him? Some people might argue that humanizing myself will make him less likely to kill me, butthat’s a lie, and I’ll be damned if I give him any piece of myself that he doesn’t take forcefully.

“Just eat your dinner, big boy. We’ll flip a coin to see who has to leave after dessert.”

Four:

Good Ghosts Don’t Discriminate

The intruder watches me like a hawk as I clean up and dry my hands. I’m more exhausted now than ever, but I’m not sure how this ends. Will he kill me? Will I somehow get one over on him?

I need a shower and a fourteen-hour nap. I’m not sure if I care how I get there. “My name is Joey,” I say flatly, giving in just a little to gain some ground. “Josephine Moran, but I’m guessing you already knew my last name since you found out about my parents. What can I call you?”

“Killer.”

Now I know his sense of humor just sucks.

“I’ll stick with big boy then.” Sighing, I slip my hands into my pockets. “You’re not leaving, are you.”

“No. And neither are you, huh?”

He crosses his arms in our standoff, muscles bulging in a way that has me distracted. I really wish he’d put a shirt on.

“Am I allowed to leave?”

“No. Call me an asshole if you want, but I can’t let you leave yet.”

I nod, lips pursed. “I thought so.” Grabbing my purse, I toss him my keys. “I already ditched my cell phone. You’re welcome to look through my shit if you don’t believe me, but I’m not responsible for whatever you find.”

“What might I find? An arsenal?”

He moves over to my bags and begins to rummage through them, pausing when he finds my vibrators. There are four of them.

“In so many words, yes.”

He stares at them long enough to have heat rising to my cheeks. “Why are there so many?”

When he picks one up and clicks it on, I look away. “Because sometimes batteries die. Sometimes I need... different things. I thought I was going to be here alone for at least a year, what does it matter?”

“A year?” he asks curiously, abandoning his search of my luggage sooner than I expected, and when he stands up to move over to the couch I notice he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s hard. “So no one else is expected to show up? I don’t have to worry about your parents coming here to look for you?”

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