Page 33 of Monster Mate

She nodded. “On our first date after he paid for the car repairs, he started talking about how much easier everything would be when we were married. We’d never talked about marriage before. Hell, we’d never even slept together. I had no idea why he was talking like we were already engaged. At first, I laughed. I thought he was joking. But he wasn’t.”

Roxie told Riordan about how Neil’s face had turned red, how clipped and angry the conversation became when she told him they were nowhere near ready to talk about marriage. Then she told him the part that still chilled her to the bone.

“He said, ‘You can’t even afford to fix the blinds in your bedroom or the dishwasher in your kitchen and you think it’s a good idea to refuse me so easily?’ That’s when I realized he was talking about things in my house I’d never mentioned. Things he couldn’t possibly have known.”

“Unless he’d been in your house.”

She sniffled. “I didn’t say anything at the time. Just told him I needed some time to think. I put some money down on the table for my half of the restaurant bill and got out of there as quick as I could. When I got home, I searched my place from top to bottom and found two cameras and two recording devices.”

Roxie felt Riordan’s muscles tense. “He stalked you like prey.”

“He did. That’s when I started digging. Turned out he wasn’t related to anyone in the nursing home. He’d followed me there. He’d probably been stalking me for months before he approached me at work.”

“Tell me you didn’t confront him,” Riordan said on an infuriated hiss.

“I didn’t. I went right to the police and filed a restraining order.” She snorted. “Not that it did any good. He confronted me at work the day he was served.”

She rubbed the scar on her temple. “I guess his plan was to knock me out and either kill me or kidnap me, because he punched me without even saying a word. I wasn’t ready for it, so it knocked me down. I hit my head on the bumper of my car. It didn’t knock me out, though. Thank God. And I’d never told him about my martial arts and self-defense training. So, he was pretty shocked when I kicked his legs out from under him and twisted his arm behind his back until it snapped.”

“That’s my girl,” Riordan said against her temple.

“I told him I was calling the cops. He told me he’d kill me before he let me leave him. And you know what? I believed him. I believed there was fuck all the cops could do for me, and one day, I’d let my guard down and that motherfucker would kill me. So, I ran. I grabbed Waldo and Winston, and I ran.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “And here I am.”

She squealed when Riordan flipped their positions, pinning her under him. “And I am so fucking glad.” His mouth captured hers and he kissed her breathless before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers. “Thank you for trusting me with your story. You’ll never regret it. I promise you.”

Roxie kissed him again, because she didn’t want to tell him what she was thinking.

No. I won’t. But you might.

CHAPTER 21

“You can’t do that!”

“The hell I can’t!”

Winston rolled his eyes as Riordan crowded Roxie up against the kitchen counter and tried—again—to get her to listen to his plan. “I don’t know what’s worse. Listening to the two of you bicker like an old married couple, or listening to the barnyard noises coming from your room when y’all are making up.”

Roxie blinked. Winston could hear them having sex? Gross!

But that wasn’t the point. The point was that Riordan was trying to make a logical argument for hunting down and killing her ex. Sure, the guy was an abusive, stalking asshole, and she certainly wouldn’t shed any tears if he met an unfortunate (or very fortunate, as the case may be) end. But that didn’t mean Riordan should go after him.

“You’ll get caught,” she argued. “Then you’ll go to jail. Forever. Murder, even for monsters, is frowned upon.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t get caught. I’ve read all about how people get caught, and I wouldn’t make those mistakes. No DNA left behind—not that they’d be able to identify my DNA even if they found it—and I’d have an alibi.”

“I’d alibi him,” Winston grumbled, yanking a carton of milk from the fridge and drinking directly from it. He belched. “That fucker deserves what he gets.”

Riordan gestured to Winston. “Thank you. See? This can all be taken care of today. I’ve already tracked down his current address.”

She sputtered. “How’d you do that?”

“I traced his credit cards.”

He said it as casually as she might suggest ordering a pizza for dinner. As if just anyone could trace someone’s credit cards. He’d probably read a book about it.

But again, not the point.

“It’s not worth the risk,” she insisted.

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