Page 48 of Aftershock
As I walked Hope home after work, all I could think about was him. She smiled when I told her he’d been everything I could’ve wished for, without me going into detail. She said happiness looked good on me. And she was glad we didn’t have to resort to cutting off his balls.
We laughed as I handed her my shoulder bag and went back to the hospital to wait for Alaric outside.
That’s how obsessed I am. Stalking him after he already claimed me as his.
And he, intuitive as ever, almost caught me. When his eyes swept the street, I stood about fifty feet away. With my hoodie pulled low and my head bowed, I pretended to text someone while sneaking glances at him from the corner of my eye.
A minute or two later, he gave up.
I expected him to continue on his route home, but Alaric had other plans.
To my complete surprise, he’d turned into a predator before my own eyes.
Pressed against a building, studying some drunk I didn’t recognize, Alaric was mesmerizing.
The longer I watched him, the more his stolen boxers heated in my hoodie pocket. The urge to run home and do dirty things with them was fierce.
My curiosity was stronger.
So I stayed at a safe distance, peeking from behind a wall as they went into the alley and then slowed to a stop by the dumpster.
There, he surprised me again by acting like he and the drunk were friends. Called himbuddy. Said he was taking him home.
Lies.
Friends don’t knock each other out, which is exactly what Alaric did by pressing his fingers into a spot on the man’s neck until he dropped.
“Here we go, almost there,” Alaric mutters now as they round the back of his building and stop at a metal door.
Just like in the alley, there’s no one here but them and me. I’m tucked into the corner, hidden from view, watching him keep pretending they’re buddies.
He and the man he knocked out.
Have I been wrong about him? Is the doctor persona just a mask he wears so he can kidnap people and possibly murder them without anyone ever considering him a suspect?
Was that what he meant when he said he was bad for me? Because he’s a criminal?
No.No. I don’t buy it for a second. None of this adds up.
Why would Alaric work his ass off to save lives one second and then do…this?
Not to mention, a violent person wouldn’t care about anyone’s feelings the way he cared about mine.
I remind myself that he asked for my consent. He made me come first.
He gave me this sweet nickname, little devil, for crying out loud.
It’s then that I decide he isn’t cruel. No fucking way. Not my savior.
Before the night is over, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.
Squinting, I study Alaric’s face as he shifts the slouching man over his shoulder again and again. His expression is so calm it almost makes me believe he actually likes this person.
But on closer inspection, I catch the tic in his jaw. The way his lip curls into a barely perceptible snarl.
He doesn’t like this guy. Doesn’t enjoy kidnapping him.
He hates him.
