Page 15 of Positively Pricked
"Well, yeah," I stammered. "I haven't found the candles."
"Fuck the candles."
I tried not to flinch. "What?"
"Your station," he said. "Find it.Now."And with that, he turned and walked away, but not toward the house. Instead, he walked in the opposite direction, heading toward the rear of his property.
Through the open cargo door, I watched him as he strode across the narrow parking area and into his massive back yard. He kept on going, making his way around the swimming pool, past the pool house, and into the woods beyond.
I felt my eyebrows furrow.Well, that wasn't weird or anything.
I couldn’t see him anymore, but Icouldfeel the remnants of our encounter, haunting me like a bad dream.
Jerk.
And where was he going, anyway?
Inside his estate, there had to be at least a hundred guests. Was he ditching them?
It sure looked that way.
I blew out a long, unsteady breath. He was right about one thing – forget the candles. If I hadn't found them by now, they obviously weren't out here. And besides, I'd been gone far too long for a simple errand.
I scrambled out of the van and slammed the door shut behind me. With my heart still racing, I dashed back through the rear entrance and returned to my catering station – well, what was left of it, anyway.
And it wasn't good.
