Chapter 9
NINE
LIAM
The wrongness of breaking in pales in comparison to the satisfaction of having been near Kat.
Instead of guilt, pleasure sweeps through me every time I remember the gentleness of her face as she slept.
Inhaling the scent of coffee, I stand by the kitchen window, holding my cup of dark roast, staring out at the people passing by below. It’s deliciously wrong, I think, as I take a mouthful of the hot drink. Kat has become an obsession I can’t let go of.
Not that I want to.
The coffee tastes no different to usual.
But for the past few days, I’ve drank it every morning while thinking of her. Had she noticed the stone when she awoke, or had it fallen from her hand and rolled under the bed? Did she dream of me?
I’m on my second cup when a quick knock jolts me out of my thoughts of Kat.
‘I know you’re in there. Stop ignoring me.’
Ellie.
Oh shit.
A scrap of pale pink cotton hangs out of the coffee machine’s filter basket.
I can’t serve Ellie her roommate’s panty coffee.
The taste might not be as distinctive as I’d hoped crotch-coffee might be, but the thought of consuming Kat was too much to resist. Explaining why a woman’s underwear is replacing the coffee filter would be too much to bear.
She knocks louder and more impatiently.
‘Just a minute,’ I shout. ‘I’m getting dressed.’
Lies. What I’m doing is tearing across the kitchen and grabbing the panties, tipping the coffee grounds into the bin and stuffing them into my pocket. For a moment, the warmth of them gives me pause as I imagine them fresh off her.
No. No time for that. Answering the door to my foster sister with a lob on would be unforgivable.
I unplug the coffee machine so I can claim it’s broken if Ellie wants a cup.
Taking a breath, I open the door, only to be nearly bowled over by Ellie, who doesn’t wait to be invited in.
‘You need to open a window. It smells in here.’
‘And a good morning to you too, Ellie.’
‘I’m not just being a twat,’ she says with a roll of her eyes. ‘It smells damp.’
She looks around the flat with a face that would have fit had she walked into a sewer. Tentatively, she takes a seat at the kitchen table.
‘Seriously. You need to move.’
‘It’s fine here.’
‘No, it’s a shit hole.’ She holds up a paper bag before dumping it on the table. ‘Mum sent me with fairy cakes.’
‘She could have just brought them on Thursday like she usually does.’
‘I was passing anyway.’ Ellie’s nose scrunches as she eyes the bare walls studded with cracked plaster. ‘So… are you offering me a drink?’
‘I’ve got tea or beer.’
‘No coffee?’
‘Nah, machine’s on the blink.’
‘It smells like coffee in here,’ Ellie raises her brows.
‘Yeah, it worked earlier.’
‘I can have a look for you…’ The seat scrapes as Ellie slides it back.
‘Ellie, just take a tea,’ I groan. She pauses before pulling her seat back in. Letting it go. Thank god. I can’t serve her panty-tainted beverages.
‘You’d better share your fairy cakes at least.’
I nudge the bag to her while I make the tea, and she tears it open, revealing six perfectly baked cakes. The tops were sliced off and split before being fixed back into the icing. One of my favourites, despite them looking ever so dainty.
‘So, how are you? Mum said you looked like you got in a fight when she saw you last.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You always say that.’
‘Mmm.’
The look she gives me makes me feel more like a true sibling than anything else ever has. Withering, and like she doesn’t believe an ounce of what I say, and not a bit of politeness about it.
‘How’s uni?’ I’m burning to ask about Kat. But she doesn’t know that I know she exists.
‘Good. Looking forward to graduating and getting a job. I’m so over being a student now.’ I pass her the tea, and she wraps her hands around the mug. ‘My roommate’s been a bit weird though.’
It takes everything not to press her about Kat immediately.
‘Weird how?’
‘Super jumpy lately.’ Ellie frowns. ‘She thought someone broke into the flat a few nights ago just to leave a rock in her bed. Isn’t that wild? I suppose you can’t really blame her, with the car and all.’
‘What happened?’ I dig my nails into my palm and remind myself to breathe.
‘Someone vandalised her car. In the university car park.’ She shakes her head. ‘They slashed two tyres and scratched words into the door.’
My pulse feels like it’s going to burst out of my skull.
‘What words?’
‘You’re next. How creepy is that?’
The rage arrives so quickly, I feel like I’ve been gutted. I burn with rage at the idea of someone torturing my woman.
YOU’RE NEXT. God, when I find the person tormenting her, I’ll carve it into their fucking throat.
But what could anyone have against her? Unless that summer had affected her more than I thought. Maybe she’d grown up as twisted as I.
No. She’s too perfect. There’s no reason I could imagine that anyone would want to hurt her.
The idea of someone other than me trailing her has me roiling in anger.
Ellie is still talking as I stew. About insurance and Kat’s mother. I nod and murmur enough to appease her while she finishes talking, waiting for her to go so I can punch something.
When she goes, I put my head in my hands and let out a deep growl. Kat is mine. Mine to protect. Mine to crave. Whoever is after her will pay dearly when I catch them.
I take the pink cotton out of my pocket and press it to my face, but the smell of her is lost to the coffee.
I stalk the entrance of her alley like a desperate tiger. Back and forth, my gaze trying to find any trace of Kat’s tormentor. I stare daggers at everyone who walks within ten feet of the entrance, getting more than my share of odd looks.
Ellie’s dot remains at the bar across town where she works. Kat’s curtains are closed tight, not even a sliver of the room available beyond. Light leaks around the edges, but that’s all that the flat gives me of Kat.
I decide I’m too obvious, loitering at the mouth of the alley, and cross the road to lurk in the doorway of the betting shop. Darkened as it is at night.
I stand in the shadow across the street and watch until my eyes burn, the hours growing later and later, and the road growing quieter.
Who could this person be? Could it be someone who knew what happened all those years ago? Surely not. Not unless Kat had told anyone.
And why now? Unless, of course, she’s picked up a run-of-the-mill stalker. Given how perfect she is, I wouldn’t rule it out.
The light reflecting off the bricks in the alley goes out, marking my love’s bedtime.
I stay at my post, my eyes stinging until I no longer believe them to be true. I’m close to giving up for the night when a movement in the dark makes me freeze.
A wiry male figure is moving fast toward the alley. He pauses at the entrance and looks around him. It’s too dark to see beneath his hood. Every muscle fires at once, and I tear across the road, determined to get to him before he can get to her.
He clocks me as I close the space between us and takes off. A fast little fucker. His slenderness carries him faster than my more muscular frame can keep up with.
Damn.
My anger fuels my thighs as I push myself behind him, sheer rage making me gain ground.
He cuts between the off-licence and the bookies, and I’m close enough that I can nearly grab his shitty jacket by the scruff.
‘Stop you little shit,’ I grunt, but he takes a sudden left that catches me off guard, sending me slamming into a wall opposite. My shoulder bursts with pain, but I don’t have time to worry about it. I pull myself back up and throw myself after him.
He’s gone.
I stand there with my heartbeat thumping in my ears and failure wrapping its arms around me.
He knew the area. Clearly had scoped out an escape route. That’s more than just opportunistic.
I go back to her. I need to make sure she’s okay.
I’m halfway down the alley and pressing my face to her window when I hear a voice.
‘Don’t move, you creepy fuck.’
Kat.
Oh fuck.
‘Turn around. Slowly. I’ve got a knife, and I’ll stab it right between your legs if you try anything.’
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She’s standing four feet away, next to her open door.
Barefoot on the cold brick in her pink pyjamas, with her blonde hair mussed from sleep.
The kitchen knife she brandishes shakes in her grip, which is all wrong.
She’s more likely to cut herself if she attacks than anything else.
Not that I’d stop her. Kat can stab me all she likes, because I am smitten under her gaze.
Hell, I’d probably beg her to stab me again for a closer look at her pretty blue eyes.
We stand there, frozen, as she takes in my height, the leather jacket, the gloves. The mask with its stupid fucking heart eyes.
‘Who the fuck are you?’
Answering feels like too surmountable a task. I feel like that little boy who couldn’t dare talk to her all over again. Except this time she has a knife rather than a cheese sandwich to offer me.
Even with the car and the fact that a masked man is outside her window, she’s still that unstoppable force I met all those years ago.
Fourteen years. One month. Two weeks. Three days. Fifteen hours. Thirty-three minutes.
My chest burns with need.
‘There you are,’ I breathe.