Page 15 of Once I Find You

Okay, Mr. Hangman. I’m coming to find you.

CHAPTER SEVEN

This Fantasy Ends Here

KANE

“Yeah. I’ll be there Monday to pick you up from the airport, quit your nagging,” I say gruffly into the phone as my truck pulls up to a stoplight.

“Well I don’t want to be alone at the airport waiting. There’s a killer on the loose, you know.” Mason laughs and I click my tongue.

“God, you fucking wear me out. How long are you staying again?”

“Ah, let’s see what happens. Maybe we can be roommates.”

“Not even if pigs fucking flew. I gotta go, I’m parking.”

“Okay, I’ll call to remind you again tomorrow,” he says before hanging up.

Please fucking don’t. I throw my gear shift into park and undo my seatbelt, grabbing my mask and slipping it on over my head and neck. I slide my gloves on as my eyes flick up to double-check the surroundings before I get out.

Well shit, this is a pretty nice neighborhood. Guess I’m not surprised a man like him was able to bribe his way out of the conviction he deserved. I walk down the street, staying in the middle to avoid motion sensor cameras and lights. Should be simple. He’s supposed to be home from work as usual; his new wife is away on vacation according to her social media, and she hasn’t posted pictures of any pets.

I finally get close to the house, looking around as I find a neighbor who seems to not have bright lights on their side yard and slip through there to reach his backyard. It’s…quiet. His car is in the driveway, so he’s definitely here.

Why do I have such a weird feeling about this? Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I’m being extra careful now that I realize I had been careless getting caught on camera, so there’s no way anything can go wrong.

I quietly get to his back door, grabbing my lock pick, but…it’s unlocked? The fuck? Does a pretentious rich asshole like this really just live without fear? I take an extra look around, and open it fully, letting myself slip inside. I close it quietly behind me and turn back around and just listen.

Still quiet. No snoring? No television left on? My brows furrow as I quietly shuffle, rounding the kitchen to the living room. I can feel the hair on my arms raise, and I slowly reach for the tactical knife attached to my belt, unsheathing it and holding it close.

Not a second later, I hear the floor creak in the darkness. My instincts take over as I rush the figure, pinning them to the wall with ease as I hold my blade up to their neck.

“Wait!” she yells.

What the fuck is a girl doing here?

“Shut your mouth,” I say lowly, pressing the blade against her neck without letting it break the skin.

“U-um but there’s really no one here, I swear!” she pleads and I hold position as I turn my head to look around and listen. The smell of vanilla is overwhelming me.

“How do you know? You live here?” I demand.

“No! I-I just um, I guess I…I can explain! I swear Peter Reed isn’t here!”

My jaw clenches imperceptibly, and I stand there. What the fuck do I do? Who is this? I try to think, but I don’t have much time to decide if she’s setting me up. “Prove it. Scream for help. Make it sound real,” I growl quietly into her ear. If this was a set-up, either that piece of shit or the police would come out to help her. She pauses for a second, and I move my knife to remind her I’m not fucking around.

“H-help! Please! Someone help!” she yells, and nothing. I look around, deciding to release her and step back only a couple feet to flick on the living room light and see who the fuck I’m dealing with.

She straightens up, and though her breathing is deep, our eyes meet. Her brown doe eyes stare right into me, and I stop. Shit. She has wavy, bright copper hair, with the front pieces a bright blonde. She’s in a tight black outfit, like some damn cat burglar. And fuck, is it holding onto her soft curves like it was stitched right onto her.

Focus, Kane. You’re so utterly fucked right now.

I don’t know her. She isn’t…related. A young hookup? She can’t be over twenty.

“Who the fuck are you, and how do you know Peter Reed?” I ask, staying far enough away to escape her sweet smell, but close enough that the threat of my knife lingers for her.

“I—okay,” she says, taking a breath. “I um, honestly had a whole thing prepared but now I guess this isn’t going how I planned so,” she says, gesturing awkwardly with her hands.