Page 36 of My Killer Blind Date

He turns his face to me. I almost don’t recognize him. He’s all harsh angles and dangerous fury. For a second, we look at each other. He blinks once, like he’s waking up. Shakes himself. Then nods. Climbs off the guy and dusts off his pants. The wannabe thief scrambles away, skidding off into the crowd, and a kind stranger hands me my purse.

‘You OK?’ Liam says, brushing off his shirt.

My heart is going to gallop out of my chest. ‘Yeah,’ I say. But I’m not. Watching Liam transform like that and so easily overpower someone has me scared. It’s a little too easy to imagine the person he was straddling could have been me, alone, in his apartment. Or Zoe.

‘Want to make sure everything’s still in there?’ he says, gesturing to my bag.

My voice comes out shaky. ‘Sure.’ I rummage through my purse to check, but it’s just for show. Liam got the guy so fast, he wouldn’t have had time to remove anything. ‘All here.’ Weaponry included. Even Ramone the squirrel is miraculously intact.

Liam gives me a small nod. He looks away from me. I can’t read his mood.

‘So … quick bite to eat, then back to your place?’ I say, trying to keep my tone light.

He pauses a beat too long. ‘Actually, I’d better call it a night.’

‘Oh. You’re not hungry any more?’

His eyes finally lock on to mine. They’re like smoldering coals, burning with dark energy. ‘I just remembered I have an early meeting.’ He cracks a grin, but it seems forced, like a mask. ‘Better get home and get some beauty rest.’

I swallow. So I’m not getting into his apartment tonight. Maybe that’s for the best.

‘Well … see you later.’

‘Yeah. Get home safe.’ He eyes me, almost like he’s considering if he should lean in for a hug or a kiss. Then, before I can respond, he stalks off into the dark.

I stand there until he disappears into the crowd.

Now I’m legitimately shaking. From cold, from fear, from overwhelm. From the violently teetering seesaw of thoughts and emotions that has pulled me all night between extremes. Zoe is dead. Or maybe she’s not. Liam’s a killer. Or maybe he’s not.

The first two dates, Liam was Mr Perfect. A well-mannered gentleman who always said the right thing. But tonight I saw a different side. A side that feels dangerous.

Who are you, Liam Porter?

Chapter Eleven

‘And back to downward dog,’ says the yoga instructor in a soothing voice.

Ass in the air, I struggle to find a good grip on my yoga mat. My palms are that sweaty. Wow, I really hate sweating. Especially this freaking early in the morning.

‘So then you get on the Ferris wheel,’ whispers George from her effortless downward dog beside me. ‘And what happens next?’ She’s been trying to get me to do Monday morning six a.m. hot yoga with her for years, and I finally caved. Maybe because I knew she’d grill me about Liam. Maybe because part of me does want to talk about him. And hot yoga seemed better than her Tuesday triathlon training, which she’s also been trying to get me to do with her for years.

‘Left foot forward, and flowing into warrior two,’ intones the instructor.

I thrust my foot forward and fling up my torso. Finally upright! I flip my ponytail back as the blood rushes from my head, ignoring the itch from the sweat trickling down my back.

‘Yeah, that’s when things got intense,’ I whisper, adjusting my pose a bit. My balance is not the best. ‘He kissed me—’

George yelps, loud, eliciting a frown from our instructor.

‘Sorry! Hamstring!’ she crows, giving me a big, juicy wink. She lowers her voice again. ‘Keep going.’

‘And it was nice.’ I can’t help smiling. ‘Really nice.’

‘Tongue?’

‘Tongue.’

‘Good lips?’