Page 40 of Web of Lies
"That makes sense." He gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Further down the street, we reach Kyle's car. He pulls open the passenger door for me, and I climb inside. He hands me the pizza, slams the door shut, circles the car, and slides into the driver's seat. By the time the engine roars to life and he eases us back into traffic, a sigh of relief rolls off my lips as I sag into the seat.
Thirty minutes later, I'm sitting on Kyle's couch with Dumpster curled up in my lap, purring softly as I scratch her chin. The adrenaline from the incident still courses through my veins, keeping me on edge. Every sound in the apartment startles me, from the ticking clock to Kyle opening and closing cabinets in the kitchen. My heart stutters with each sound, my mind instantly leaping to the worst possibility. I keep glancing over my shoulder, expecting to find eyes watching me, waiting in the shadows for the right moment to pounce.
Eventually, Kyle joins me, setting down a bottle of whiskey and two glasses on the coffee table before sitting down on the sofa beside me. With a twist of his wrist, he unscrews the cap and pours a drink for each of us.
"Are you sure I'm safe here?" I ask as I take one glass.
"Yes," he says without hesitation. "I drove around the block three times before pulling into the underground parking lot. At this time of day, the building is locked down, and you can only enter with a code. You can't access my floor without a keycard and an additional entry code. The fire escapes are indoors. There's an armed doorman and a security guard downstairs. I'm not saying they could fight off an army, but they provide another layer of protection." He raises his glass to his lips. I mirror the motion, downing the drink in one go. The familiar burn of the liquor slides down my throat and calms the adrenaline clinging to my chest.
"Okay," I murmur as I lean forward to pour myself another drink.
Kyle's eyes bore into me, observing my every move, and I know exactly what question is on the tip of his tongue.
"You want to know what's going on, right?"
"It would definitely help if I knew what you're dealing with," he says.
My eyes follow the ice cube as I twirl it in my glass, watching it clink against the sides before I take a small sip. "Do you know about the Butcher?"
His eyebrows shoot up instantly, replacing the previous note of worry with confusion. "I've heard about him. But what does that have to do with you?"
"Well, I've been looking into the case."
Kyle furrows his brow as he pours himself another glass. "Why?"
"Curiosity." The answer rolls off my tongue quicker than intended.
He pauses, narrowing his eyes as he looks at me. "Curiosity, or is Mr. Hunt looking for him?"
"It's my own curiosity," I insist, meeting his gaze. "Mr. Hunt warned me to stay away from it. But I didn't listen."
"And now you think the Butcher is after you?"
"Yes." I nod. "A couple of weeks ago, I broke into a restaurant that I got a tip about. It supposedly serves human meat. I thought it might lead me to the Butcher. And... I actually found a bunch of people's medical records." Kyle's eyes widen as he stares at me as though I've grown another head. "While I was there, someone showed up. I think it was him. If I hadn't had my taser..." I trail off, the memory of that night sending a cold shiver down my spine. "God knows what he would've done."
"So, do you think he was trying to break into your apartment tonight?"
"Yes. That, or—" I stop myself, biting the inside of my cheek, before revealing my truth to him. My chest tightens under the weight of it: aside from the Butcher, it's Jackson and his people who are out to get me. I tilt my head, avoiding Kyle's gaze. If he finds out, everything between us might change. He fits their profile perfectly. In their eyes, he's a target; in his, I may be the enemy. I'm not here to turn him in, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm a rat in the wrong territory.
"Or what?" Kyle asks, his hand landing on my thigh. His thumb traces lazy circles against my skin. "Talk to me."
"Nothing." The words tumble off my tongue as I rest my hand on top of his. "My mind's a mess right now." I don't know what's real and what's paranoia. Who's safe, and who isn't?"
Kyle sighs, sinking back into the couch. His jaw tightens, his expression a mask I can't read. "Hunt was right, Riley. Youshouldn't have stuck your nose in the Butcher's business. If he's really onto you, you're in serious danger."
"I know," I murmur, stealing a glance at him. His eyes hold a mixture of concern and quiet judgment. Then, he twists his hand in mine and links his fingers with mine.
"I'll help you," he says with a shrug.
I jerk back, my eyes meeting his, looking back at me. "Help me? What do you mean? I don't want to drag you into this."
"I'm already in. There's a good chance that whoever is after you saw me pick you up. We either try to find them first or they'll come for us."
I let his words sink in, my eyes fixed on his, searching for a flicker of doubt or hesitation—anything that would show he had second thoughts. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes." He doesn't miss a beat. "I can be irrational and reckless, but I’m good at what I do. So, let's deal with whatever comes our way."
