Page 101 of There Are No Saints

He knows too much about me, and me about him.

I’ve been tempted to do it many times before.

I almost followed through after he deposited Mara in my dumping ground. I should have done it then.

I’m not afraid of Shaw. But I’ve put myself at a disadvantage: it’s not just me versus him. I have to protect Mara, too—if I want to keep her safe for myself, for my own use.

I’m spread thin. Covering too much ground.

This is exactly why I always avoided these kinds of entanglements. Mara complicates my life in a hundred different ways.

Yet here I am neglecting my own work so I can watch her.

It’s addicting. All-consuming. It has a literal physical effect on me when I’m not near her, when I can’t see her. My muscles twitch like I’ve had too much caffeine. The craving builds and builds until I can’t think about anything else. I lose all my powers of focus because my mind is pulled away after her.

Watching her creates the opposite effect. The drug courses through my veins and I’m soothed, relaxed, purposeful once more.

Several hours pass. It’s late now—past midnight. I should go home and sleep in my own bed.

I stay because of the nagging sensation that she’s not safe, not even asleep in her room.

Shaw is going to do something, I know it. He saw us at the party together, and now he’s going to take some action, leave some sign to let me know that I didn’t fool him for a second.

He must be over the fucking moon right now. His plan worked better than he ever could have dreamed.

All he wanted was to entice me into killing Mara. He never imagined that I might form an attachment to her.

And, as difficult as it is for me to admit . . . that’s exactly what I’ve done. I’m fixated on her. Obsessed with her, even.

Which gives Shaw all the power he could desire and more. I’ve put my attachment onto something fragile, something impossible to keep safe and under my control.

It’s exhausting. This level of focus is draining.

Also, I’m starting to realize that what entices me about Mara is the contact high I get when I’m near her. She feels things so intensely that it makes me feel them too.

I have no control over that effect. I can’t choose what to feel and what not to feel, not anymore. Mara infects me against my will.

Right now, she’s so sleepy that she can barely keep her eyes open. Her head keeps nodding forward and then jerking up again, while she sits propped up on the pillows in her bed, trying to sneak in a few more pages of her paperback.

Watching her lashes flutter and the slow sway of her head is making me sleepy too. I’m leaning against the windowsill. Nearly drifting off . . .

Until a shadow moves under the trees behind Mara’s house.

I jerk upright, pressing my eye against the telescope, swiveling the lens to look down instead of across.

I only catch a brief glimpse of the figure disappearing around the side of her house, but I know it’s Shaw. Only he possesses that bulk, that heavy tread.

And only he would be lurking on her street, staring up at her window.

I push aside the telescope and slip my arms into my coat.

I don’t like playing defense.

I’d rather be hunting than waiting.

Shaw exposes himself, coming out alone at night.

I’ve got a knife with me, and my garrote too.

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