Page 9 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats

“Thank you,” I say, my voice hoarse.

The man pulls his gaze from me and settles it back on Steven, looking from his torso to his head.

“I need to get this cleaned up,” he says nonchalantly.

“I can help you.” I move to go to the kitchen, but this stranger grabs my arm with a hand like a bear’s. It’s huge. His touch is gentle, though, so different from what I just watched him do.

“I have someone to take care of it for me.”

“You do?” My words come out as a whisper. He nods firmly, dropping his hand. “Oh, okay then.” I lick my lips, taking a step back and looking around. “What am I supposed to do? Do you need a cover story or something?”

He frowns, looking at me like I’m an alien. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you saved my life. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.” He doesn’t respond, so I move to him again, careful not to step in the puddle of blood that’s still growing. “He would have killed me.”

“Yeah.” It’s all he says before stepping away and pulling a cell phone from his pocket to make a call. “Yes,” is what he says after a moment of holding the phone to his ear. “As soon as possible.”

He ends the call, putting the phone back in his pocket before walking into the kitchen like he’s familiar with it. The sink runs and then he returns, hands and face free of blood. It’s probably soaked into his clothing, but because he’s in all black, you can’t see it. I glance down at my Sherlock Holmes t-shirt that used to be white once upon a time. It’s more grey now, with a few stains and holes. The words221B Baker Streetare across the top, and that’s the only design on it. My sweatpants are black, and this isn’t my typical outfit to leave the house in, but Steven had to run out to get some weed and told me to go with him, and so I did. Like I had a choice…

“What do you need me to do?” I ask again.

“Nothing,” he answers. “Enjoy a life of freedom.”

He gives me his back and doesn’t hesitate to walk to the door, pulling it open and letting in a gust of cold air. He’s going to leave, just like that. My prince comes to rescue me and then just leaves? That’s not how this is supposed to go.

“Wait!” I call just before the front door closes. He pushes it open, raising a brow as his eyes find mine. “I can’t—I don’t know how… I don’t think I can.”

Something in his eyes changes as he stares at me. They darken just a bit. I don’t know what I’m asking this man for or why I think he’ll care at all. He just committed murder, something that will get him in jail for the rest of his life. I’m sure he wants to get the hell out of here. He already did me the biggest favor in theworld, what more could I want from him? But I can’t stay here like this…

“Come with me,” he finally says.

I’ve never moved so fast in my life.

We walk down the sidewalk, heading in the general direction of Boston.

“How far do we have to go?” I ask.

“Far enough,” he answers, and I don’t know what that means. Does he live around here? In another state? Across the city? Around the corner?

“The cops will want to question me,” I say.

“Yes, they will.”

“What am I supposed to say?”

He shoves his hands into his pockets and keeps walking as if I asked about the weather and not something that could have us both in jail for the rest of our lives.

“Don’t know yet.”

“Should I be worried?” I ask, getting a little nauseous over this whole thing now that we’re leaving the scene. It’s officially bad. Had I stayed and been a cooperating witness, things would be different for me. But I’m covering it up. I’m an accomplice. If we’re caught, I will do jail time too.

“Not unless you plan on talking about what just happened.”

“I don’t. I won’t, I swear.”

He nods, turning down a side street as a gust of chilly wind rustles my hair. We walk for another twenty minutes before he pulls out his phone and brings it to his ear.

“All set?” he asks. “I’ll send the payment.”

---