Page 10 of Watch Me Burn

Thank god.

“How would I get a car?”

Mr. Rashid choked on the air. “A CAR? Like for free? Are you out of your mind?!”

“Nope. I have some money that my grandma put away for me. Not much but enough for some junk on wheels.”

Mr. Rashid sucked his teeth but resigned. “Sure. I can help you with that. Cash only, no loans.”

“Fine by me.” I hung up on Mr. Rashid and headed to my room.

Driving a car to work wasn’t the only thing I had in mind. With everything that fell on my shoulders today, the urge to visit her grew stronger and stronger.

She’s still out there, I thought, and I honestly didn’t care if she doomed me to prison or not. I would force her to help me. I couldn’t live like this, people following me to chant at me and throw eggs, living in places like this with drug addicts.

No. I had to prove my innocence. That fateful day, Anna must have seen or heard something that could help me.

I had to go see her. Make her believe that I wasn’t the mad criminal the law made me out to be, and that justice for her father was never truly brought.

“Anna, I’m coming for you, babe.”

Chapter 4

Anna

I collapsed onto my couch, buttons slightly undone from all the rustle of today.

“Thank god it’s over,” I sighed while flipping an arm over my head. The evening sky cast a glare on my TV screen and I had no blinds, so I grumpily moved to my bedroom.

It’d been two months since I bought this condominium. My mother told me a house would be a more practical investment—even offering for me to inherit her property on the condition we’d live together—but I decided to mortgage this anyway. My brother had done well enough as a dentist with a private practice to finance a small mansion for his wife and kids. And even if I was the youngest child, it still felt demeaning to be relying on my mother and living with her to inherit a home.

Will Jackson wasn’t wrong when he spoke of public defender salaries; this was barely enough to coast by on in Boston. But it sure as hell was a decent start to building my own independence in life, and I felt that I somewhat made a difference.

As my gaze panned to my bedroom, a buzz dinged from my front door. I cycled through my mind to remember if there were any Amazon purchases I made lately. I did order so often that the concierge had given up on holding my packages and simply let the delivery person come upstairs. But my hypoallergenic pillow had already arrived yesterday and nobody really knew where I lived, so I was at a loss here.

Curious, I walked to the door and cracked it ajar.

But even the tiniest crack was enough for an uninvited visitor to slip in! I barely saw him: a hooded figure, tall and intimidating. Well over six feet, he was covered in tattoos, a human wall of muscle!

My scream was cut short, stifled by the stranger’s hand. I hoped my muffled cries would reach my neighbors, but his palm over my mouth trapped my pleas.

Clearly finding me far from a strong match, the intruder gently closed the door behind him, his other hand pushing me against the hallway wall. His rock-hard body consumed my entire frame. Torn between fear and fascination, I didn’t know whether to shudder under his icy grip or let my senses drown in the allure of his earthy, pine-infused scent. There was a certain captivation, a forbidden temptation, despite the danger. Obviously, my mind was going nuts from the audacity of this home invasion.

My whole body was on fire as he brought his head close to my ear, his hand still firm over my mouth, I got a clearer look at him. It was only now that I was able to scrutinize his features, recall the contours and edges that belonged to a boy of my younger days.

No!

Fucking!

Way!

I gasped under the tight pressure of his hand as an icy shiver ran down my spine. Was this really happening? Or was I dreaming? Another nightmare, maybe?

“Promise me you won’t yell when I take my hand off?” he growled. I nodded aggressively, gasping for air once he finally let me breathe.

Holding my throat, I opened my mouth to howl for the skies. There was no way I was letting Ethan Wayne kill me in my house, just like he killed my father!

“Hey, what the hell! You promised you would keep your mouth shut!” Before I could succeed with my plan, he pressed his body against mine even harsher. His face was now inches from mine, his breaths hot and rapid, tickling my skin as if we were lovers.

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