Page 4 of Arranged Scars
“Among other reasons. I manage a string of clubs and other commercial properties throughout the city.”
“You’re in real estate?”
“Something like that.”
“Do you own those businesses?”
“Not me, exactly, but the organization I’m a part of.”
That catches my attention. I’ve heard men talk like that before. “What organization is that?”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. Instead, he looks at me sideways, always with that confident smile like he knows I’m just about to hear a fantastic joke. “How’d a girl like you end up cleaning apartments?”
I narrow my eyes. “I’m not sure I like that question. What’s wrong with cleaning apartments?”
“Nothing at all. I only mean, you’re an attractive young woman.”
“Oh, and pretty girls all get jobs selling dick pills to bored doctors?”
“You’d probably be good at that.”
I let out a soft laugh. “No way. I’d be terrible. I’d end up talking too much about the horrible side effects.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
“Morbid taste, I think. You know all those true crime podcasts? Those are basically my crack. Unsolved mysteries are like the blood in my veins.”
“You have a dark streak.”
I shift slightly and resist the urge to fan myself. The heat’s getting to me. I swear, he’s closer now. Only five feet apart.
“I guess so. Always have, since I was a little kid. Used to freak my brothers out.”
“That’s a very good skill to have. How many brothers?”
“Four of them.”
“And you’re the youngest?”
I nod and glance over. “How’d you guess?”
“Just a hunch.” He’s definitely closer. What’s going on? How’s he doing this without me noticing? “Honestly, I’m not into the podcasts or the TV shows. But I don’t mind the dark stuff.”
“I have a theory. I think everyone likes fear. It’s primal, right? The adrenaline rush and all that. But lots of people convince themselves it’s wrong so they shut that part of them down.”
“You’re absolutely right. Everyone’s got a touch of darkness in them.”
“I mean, why else would the horror industry be so big?” I lean toward him. Now we’re four feet apart. “Did you know that there are over 40,000 sets of human remains sitting around in evidence lockers, but only fifteen percent of those have been entered into the FBI database?”
“That’s a lot of bodies. How’s there space for all of them?”
“Who knows. The system isn’t built to find people.”
“What’s it built for?”
“To process paperwork.”
He laughs, but now it’s low and edged. He’s closer, three feet away. Way too close. But my heart’s racing and I’m prickled with sweat all over, and I like the way he looks. I like his sharp stare and his boldness. I like the way his eyes roam my breasts and my lips, not hiding what he wants. I like that he’s half hard and not trying to cover it up. He’s dripping with pure confidence.
