Page 9 of To Have and to Stalk
I dragged a hand across my mouth, watching as she disappeared behind a corner.
There was no universe where I could be with someone like her. She was probably a good person, with a normal job and normal life.
And I, Calder Throe, cleaned the Mafia’s money.
chapter
four
CALDER
Hours and one iced cock later, I sat outside a church on the opposite side of town. The sun had long set, and only a single light remained on in the building. The building was like most of them: a large steeple, a big parking lot, a manicured lawn now browned by winter.
I spent the rest of the day trying not to think of that woman, instead studying the information Tish had given me. Bank account. Name. Age. Social Security number. Fucking blood type. She’d given me everything I needed on Terry Parsons.
Terry Parsons was of average height and build, with thinning brown hair and brown eyes. He looked like your typical white Utah dad.
He was also an abusive asshole.
I pulled out my phone, swiping through dating profiles.I wasn’t on the app to date. It was another tool to use against abusers in a divorce, and something told me Terry wasn’t above cheating?—
I froze.
Rich, dark-chocolate eyes, thick lashes with the makeup smudged, pupils dilated. Slightly parted lips—kissable, plump,bee-stung.An almost contradictory expression in her chocolate eyes, like she was both begging and bored.
The woman from the restaurant.
I’d started to scan the profile when the last light in the building switched off.
“Fuck.” Still staring at her siren face, I blindly reached across the console for a stack of papers and my black skull mask.Jesus Christ,she looked like she’d just been fucked?—
Wet.
Something wet coated my hands. I lifted my black skull mask, now drenched in leftover hot sauce packets.
Moments later, Terry walked out of the building.
Fuck.
Shit fuck.
I looked for something—anything—to cover my face. My car was too goddamn clean. Therewereexpired condoms in the glove compartment. I could probably put one on my head?—
No.
Fuck.
I’m not putting a condom on my head. I glanced around, and something red caught my eye from under the passenger seat.
A Santa hat and beard.
I reached for it, mentally thanking the person I’d bought this car from for being so festive. I put the hat and beard on, and slid soundlessly from my car, behind Terry, speaking only when he pulled out his car keys.
“Terry.”
Terry spun around, keys stuck in his hand. He blinked, taking me in.
“Uh…little late for Christmas,” he said.
