Page 5 of Entangled
Of course, the stupid staircase is one of those winding fairy tale ones that wraps around the tower. And it’s narrow as fuck. It’s a good thing I’m not trying to deliver a television. The music grows louder as I climb. A female voice croons something about a lioness, and I wonder if I’m about to interrupt a feminist meeting.
I pause on a small landing for what appears to be a closet. Or maybe a bathroom. Who the hell knows? Judging by the weirdness of this residence, it could even be a sex dungeon. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I glance at the landing above me.
I shouldn’t be here.
I grip the handrail and debate my next move. Six more steps and I’ll reach the noisy room. Light spills onto the stairs from the open doorway. A shadow flits past the entrance. Intrigue hijacks the part of my brain telling me this is a bad idea. I’ve made it this far, so why stop now? I’ve got a job to do, after all.
“RPS,” I call once more, hoping she’ll hear me this time.
Nope. Growling, I haul myself the rest of the way up and stop in the doorway. I open my mouth to speak, but the words die on my lips. My heart stops. I grip the doorjamb for dear life.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
All I can do is stare at the dancing woman in the gold cat mask. She’s practically naked, save for the cheetah print garter belt around her waist, scrap of fabric that barely qualifies as a thong, fishnets, and gold-sequined pasties covering her nipples. Long blond waves cascade down to her ass. Even without her face visible, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her focus is riveted to the tripod and full-length mirror across the room as she sways to the music, one hand moving between her legs.
Holy fuck, she’s filming herself.
While. Using. A. Vibrator.
Heat arrows down my spine. My balls tighten. My cock twitches in my pants, and the involuntary groan leaving my chest startles even me.
Suddenly, she catches sight of my reflection and whirls around. We lock gazes. Terror widens her bright green eyes. I open my mouth to tell her I’m not a threat, but I’m still too dumbfounded to form words. She releases an earsplitting shriek and flings her arm in my direction.
I grunt when something slams into the center of my chest. Before I can see what hit me, she rushes across the room, ready to plow into me.
“I’m sorry, I—” Scrambling backward with my hands held up in surrender, I lose my footing. “Fuck!” I topple down a half-dozen steps like a giant, leggy tumbleweed.
Then everything goes black.
2
ROWAN-ANASTASIA PUNZEL
Mood Music: “Lioness” by Beckah Shae
Is he dead?
Adrenaline zings through me as I grab the metal baseball bat I keep hidden behind my dresser. I cautiously approach my intruder, who’s lying on his back on the landing outside my studio door. My breath catches when I’m close enough to get a good look at him.
Wow.
The man is gorgeous. Burglars have no business being this attractive.
Which means there’s definitely something wrong with me. I should be afraid, angry he invaded my privacy. Not enticed by a criminal who saw me nearly naked. Of course, my clouded judgment probably has something to do with the fact that the only men I’ve seen in fifteen years are my father and the guy who delivers my packages, but that’s another story.
My gaze slides from his snow boots, up his long legs encased in black pants, coming to rest on his forest green jacket. The name Flynn is embroidered beneath the familiar logo for Ryder Parcel Services.
Shit. I killed the delivery man.
I expected Tony later this afternoon. This dude certainly isn’t the middle-aged gentleman I befriended six years ago.
“Sir, are you dead?” Holding my breath, I descend the few steps he’d fallen and squat beside him, relieved to see the slow rise and fall of his broad chest. Too bad the confirmation of his breathing does nothing to drown out my brain’s anxious hum. If anything, the buzzing grows louder. “Who are you, and where’s Tony?” I place the bat on the step above me and tap the heavily muscled arm strewn across his face. “Hello? Can you hear me?”
He groans and shuffles his legs, drawing my attention to the sparkly gold object wedged beneath his thighs.
