Page 8 of Never Die for a Sinner
“I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Yes, she is,” I mouth to the ceiling.
Look, I’m not bitter. I’m all for women having sex lives and hook-ups, so long as everyone follows the rules and no one gets hurt.
What I’m not for is being woken up for the third night in a row because Levi’s trying to get laid.
“What happens here stays between us,” Levi croons, and can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Yeah, I’ve heard everything about you,” she laughs softly. “Promise to call, and then you disappear. The eternal bachelor.”
God, could he get any more predictable?
“It’s not like that with you,” Levi lies. I know it’s a lie because he’s said the same thing to the last three women he’s brought home. Like I said, I see and hear everything. It’s definitely not a blessing. “With you . . . it’s different.”
“It’s different,” I mock under my breath, rolling over and covering my head with my pillow. I can’t hear what she says, but I’m sure it’s something along the lines of Oh, please, Levi. Whisk me to your room so we can keep your housekeeper up all night howling like wildebeest in the wild.
Okay . . . maybe I am bitter.
I don’t hear what else is said, but I do have the privilege of hearing the bedroom door slam shut and then something hit it a moment later.
Maybe it’s his head, and with any luck, she’s knocked him out.
Rolling back over, I stare at the ceiling in defeat.
1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . .
I glance at the clock when the first moan hits.
Three in the morning. Looks like sleep is out the window for me . . . again.
Wonderful.
Slipping from the bed, I cross to the dresser on the other side of my rented room and open the top drawer. I don’t have many clothes, but what I do have conceals the box hidden underneath it all.
“God, you’re amazing,” Random Woman #4 moans across the hall, and I reach for my phone resting on my nightstand, reading over the message again.
Unknown: One week.
The room feels smaller suddenly, the shadows in the corners creeping closer. I swallow hard, ignoring the sounds from across the hall while I try to quell the chill slipping through me.
Like I’m being watched.
Ava: Who are you?
The reply is almost instant, and it fills my heart with dread.
Unknown: You can call me Black.
I count to three, something I started doing not long after I started at Cross Estate. It doesn’t help, but it’s what the mentally sound people do when they’re feeling anxious, so I like to pretend I’m the same.
One . . .
Two . . .
Three . . .
I shiver, even though my room is warm, and check the shadows in the corners for any ghosts lurking with oxygen masks and beady dark eyes.
