Page 5 of Bound to a Killer
I’m not one to blatantly stare, especially at a stranger. Yet his eyes hold me still, a silent gravity keeping me in place. An invisible tether, taut with an unspoken pull, stretching through the expanse, my stomach tightening until it robs me of breath as he closes the distance.
I clear my throat and roll my shoulders back, forcing myself to stand straighter.
His gaze drops to the rest of me, settling on my legs, locked with cold, their trembling betraying me in my flimsy skirt. I’m far beyond my ability to endure any more of the biting winter air.
Heat crawls into my cheeks, shame burning there asjudgment flickers across his face. I know I look ridiculous out here like this. I don’t need to be reminded, nor do I want to spend another second idling in the creeping drafts that have slipped through every gap and crevice, courting frostbite.
“Thanks,” I grit out, knuckles straining white as I tighten my hold on the backpack strap slung over one shoulder. The weight of his gaze bristles down my spine, and I shift my stance, heat crawling up my throat, leaving the rest of me rigid. I don’t have to keep standing here.
“I’m okay,” I say, attempting to sidestep him, embarrassment gnawing inside me. But he just shifts with me, his jaw tight as he nudges in the same direction, eyes flicking down at my soiled shoes and bare legs. “You’ll get yourself sick walking out dressed like that.”
No kidding.
Shifting my weight onto one hip, I crane my neck up, attempting to appear as though I’m not intimidated by him towering over me. “I said I was fine. But thank you.”
I struggle to keep the tremors out of my limbs, my feet fidgeting against the pavement to hide the trembling. My lashes flutter as they struggle to remain open against the harsh winds whipping past us, my hair flying along with it. I’m reaching the point where it physically hurts to breathe just standing.
I still have half the distance to go.
I should’ve known better than to think I could make it; should’ve known anger and stubborn pride were never going to keep me warm enough to last.
“Come on, let me give you a ride,” he says, his tone sanded down just enough to make it sound less like a demand, edging me closer to giving in. My chest tightens, breath snagging in my throat as I inch closer to giving in.
I can’t just get in a car with a stranger. That’s the first rule they drill into you in girlhood, the bare basics of survival. Whodo I look like? Some kind of kid easily lured by candy from a creepy man in a van?
I’m a lot smarter than that.
But the longer I stand here, the more my certainty wavers. His voice is steady, his stance unyielding, while I’m one strong gust away from losing all feeling in my legs.
That’s the only reason I consider it. What good am I if I end up collapsed on the sidewalk?
I won’t last much longer out here. Besides, he’s not some wrinkled creep offering candy. My eyes flick to his shiny black car—not exactly a sketchy white van, either.
Something flickers behind the stony set of his features, his hand reaching for the back of his neck. “You go to Hillside, right?”
A swarm of butterflies floods my stomach when his gaze finds mine again, the intensity in them sharpening the pressure I find coiling low in my stomach. “How’d you know?”
“You’re wearing a backpack,” he says, his eyes sliding behind my shoulders. “And it’s the only school around this area.”
I bite my lips, nodding because that makes sense. It’s the closest school, and I still won’t make it to class on time if I keep walking. With him, I’ll be there in four minutes.
He takes my silence as permission to press. “I have business right next door, so it’s already on my way. It’s up to you, but it looks like you could use the ride.”
Pride almost has me turning him down again as I shift on my feet, ready to brush past him and keep going, but the next heavy gust blows between my legs, grinding down my resolve until it crumbles, carried off by the wind. “You work at the law firm across the street?”
His eyes hold mine for a beat. Unblinking. Then…“You’re perceptive.” The BMW flashes with a click as he lifts a hand to unlock it, already turning around, expecting me to follow. “Hurry if you’re coming.”
Urgency strikes me as he reaches the door, swinging it open without casting me another glance. There’s something in his tone. It feels final. Like he isn’t going to offer again. I rush after him without really thinking, not fully processing my actions, only aware of the bitter cold nipping into my skin and the warmth that’s about to slip away from me if I don’t act fast enough.
I climb into his car, choking back a quiet sob as my chilled thighs meet the heated leather seat. It’s a fancy car. He really is a lawyer.
I shrug off my backpack and guide it to the front so it rests between my feet, my poster board wedged alongside it. His door clicks shut as he pulls at his seatbelt and switches off his emergency lights.
The car beeps, a quiet but persistent sound, urging me to also buckle up. I fumble with the strap, knuckles bumping into the center console as a wave of anxiety seeps in. What if he was lying? I can’t believe how quickly I agreed, how easily I just got in. I guess survival instincts override logic once circumstances get bad enough.
I glance over at him before I can stop myself, catching the subtle twitch in his jaw as he steers us past a flashing yellow stoplight. My eyes trail to the inky skin peeking above the collar of his leather jacket, then drift up into his silky tufts of dark hair, slightly tousled and brushing just above his brows.
“You don’t look like a lawyer,” I blurt, instantly wishing I could swallow the words back down. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply?—”
