Page 43 of Executing Malice
Had douche bag done something to him? Had he hurt him and left him somewhere to bleed out?
But why would he? It wouldn’t make sense. They don’t know each other. Douche would have no reason to...
So, where is he? He never leaves his bike. I’ve seen him out there in the pouring rain, just sitting there for hours.
Maybe he had to pee.
Maybe he’s gone to eat.
Maybe he’s with another girl. Maybe he has her in the butcher shop basement. Maybe he’s kissing her right now.
I’m not a jealous person. I never have been, but the brewing inferno snapping through my gut, raging up my chest is a different beast. It’s murderous.
Bloodthirsty.
It has my fingers curling into the handle of the door and yanking it open. The rush of autumn tugs at my top. Ruffles my skirt between my legs as I charge out onto the sidewalk ... and freeze.
What am I doing?
Am I seriously going to confront the guy who broke into my house because he may have moved on to someone else?
Yes.
Because why?
Why did I stop being attractive to him? Did he realize I’m not actually what he wants? Maybe I’m too boring. He seems to have some wild taste. But I could have learned. Maybe I’m toolumpy. I get I’m not smooth and slim like some women, but it hadn’t stopped him from eating steak off my stomach.
Maybe he realized he doesn’t want that. Maybe he tried it and it wasn’t his thing.
I bite my lip, willing back my tears.
I know I’m being ridiculous.
I don’t know this man from Adam. Literally never even seen his face. He’s every red flag in the damn book. I should be thrilled that he’s moved on. Not feel gutted.
Maybe a large part of it has to do with the fact that he’s the first guy I’ve wanted back. The only guy who has touched me and my body hasn’t recoiled. I’d begun to think I had a problem, that something was wrong with me, but I want him to touch me. I ache for him.
I need him in a way I have never needed anyone and...
As if summoned by my pathetic desperation, he steps out of the alley between the clinic and the pharmacy. The sun shimmers off the black dome over his head and catches across the plastic visor over his eyes when his chin tips. It cocks and I know he’s spotted me. That look alone sends a cacophony of sensations and emotions flooding through me.
Relief.
Anger.
Pain.
Fear.
Happiness.
Fury.
So many all colliding together until I can’t be sure if I’m happy to see him or I need to throw up.
I turn and hurry back inside.
I need to think. I need to process everything that just happened, including earlier. The absence of my biker had momentarily diluted the reason I’d gone to the door.
