Murderous Intent
I mulled over the chances of how the necklace made its way back to me. Did someone drop it off? Did Gren get it back for me?
My hand shoved in my pocket as the edges of the key poked my fingertips.
I had a horrible feeling about this.
I sighed, pulled my hand out, and clicked the seat buckle in, twirling my thumbs—suddenly self-conscious of how I looked in this god-forsaken outfit.
Lucien jumped in on the driver’s side and turned the ignition a couple of times before it eventually started. He desperately needed a new vehicle because this 1991 Jeep Cherokee had seen better days, but I couldn’t tell him that again. It would be like insulting his pride and joy—his baby.
And I really couldn’t judge; I didn’t have the money to even buy myself a vehicle.
Lucien cupped his mouth and shifted away, one hand holding the steering wheel as we drove off.
A glimpse of a smirk stretched across his face as some weird, muffled gasping noises escaped his mouth. I leaned toward him and inspected his odd behavior.
Lucien’s tight gray shirt betrayed him; I saw everything . His whole body trembled from his bulging pecs to his fingertips.
The nerve of this man. “Are you seriously laughing at me?”
Lucien erupted into a fit of laughter. Between wheezes, he gasped out, “Your outfit”—he sucked in another breath—“is gold. Hold still.” He rummaged through his joggers and pulled out his phone. “Let me take a picture to commemorate this beautiful moment.” He leaned sideways; his back pressed against the car door as his eyes remained on the road.
Lucien’s deep chuckle tickled my ears as I threw my hands up to shield myself from getting an unwanted photo. “Hey! No. This outfit will be burned at the stake, and there will be no evidence left behind,” I threatened him.
“Such malice inflicted on such a lovely outfit for no reason.” Lucien sighed, his voice exuding extreme amounts of sarcasm.
I reached out to bat his phone away, but he quickly snapped the photo and shoved it into his back pocket with a shit-eating grin.
How cruel. Yet, I couldn’t help but return his smile. Lucien’s laughter was infectious.
“See, you’re already feeling better.” He shot me an eyebrow wiggle. “And come on, it’s kinda cute.”
How long did this man plan to ridicule me?
He laughed again—so hard he had to physically dig his hand into his left side to stop and wiped literal tears running down his cheeks.
I groaned. “Yeah, yeah. Soak it in now because this will never happen again.” I stuck my tongue out and scrunched my face into a frown.
I glanced outside the car window, curious if Gren trailed behind, but nothing besides the dim red taillights reflected off the paved road.
“Never say never.” Lucien winked and gave me another cocky grin. Without fail, his dimple sprung out, shining like a beacon in the dark. “And if you’re worried about your outfit, here.” He took off his black trucker’s hat and placed it backward on my head. “There. Much better.”
Somehow, I highly doubted it.
I glared at him with an obvious pout, noticing his messy light blond hair had a dent, but surprisingly, he didn’t look bad if I was into that boy-next-door face.
“Oh, by the way. I hope you don’t mind. We’re going out tonight and Lynne begged me to invite you.”
“Way to make a girl feel special.” I paused. “Uh, sure. Sounds fun.” I forced myself to sound pleasant, but it came out more high-pitched than I intended.
My stomach churned from my words. Was it because I didn’t know Lynne yet?
We pulled up to my lousy apartment complex littered with sketchy people who waited for their next fix beside their cars. Numerous times, some creep had sneaked up behind me and asked if I had a lighter. It scared the living daylights out of me each time, but I held back my obvious discomfort and always told them about Cee’s gas station right down the road.
Luckily, Lucien walked me to my door so I didn’t have to deal with another one of those situations.
He stopped right under my door frame, his jaw hanging open.
“Who ... who did this?” Lucien’s face twisted from his sweet expression into pure rage. “Was it that asshole, Jacob? I swear to god I’ll kill—”
“Hold on, it wasn’t him.” I rubbed my forehead, attempting to come up with a good lie while trying not to laugh at how he purposely got Jared’s name wrong. “I, um. Kicked down the door because I locked my keys inside, and the manager was off.”
Lucien creased his eyebrows, not believing a word of it. “You know you could have called me or at least a locksmith.”
I dangled my phone in front of his face. “Battery died and I couldn’t remember your number. Just my luck, huh?”
Lucien’s phone vibrated and he glanced down.
Without tearing his face from the screen, he said, “I think I should wait until you get your door fixed. Lynne says she’s taking care of a pest problem so I can stay here—”
“No.” An awkward laugh bubbled out of my throat. “I mean, it’s fine. The manager is in the office. I’ll handle it.” I grinned, hoping he wouldn’t pressure me further.
“All right. I guess I’ll see you tonight then?”
I had an urge to tell him no. I really didn’t want him to leave, but I wasn’t his girlfriend. I didn’t have the right to ask. And I also didn’t have in me to keep lying to him.
So I nodded in agreement and let him walk away from me.
I switched on every light and rushed to my dining room table. My eyes remained focused, not daring to look at the open bedroom door, nor any dark corners. Instead, they remained on the view outside the window—right on Lucien as he jumped into his Jeep and drove out of the parking lot.
My guts wrenched as he disappeared from my sight.
Nervously tapping my fingers on the side arms of the chair, I tried to ground myself. Sweat beaded near my brows, but the room held no warmth. On the contrary, a stark chill saturated the air and nipped at my neck.
A huge black blob smashed against the window, and a bloodcurdling shriek shot out of my mouth.
I almost died from heart palpitations but quickly recovered and steadied myself.
Gren pressed against the window, tilting his beak as his black eye blinked slowly at me.
Annoyed that things kept jumping out of nowhere, I still pressed my hand on the glass and let him hop in.
I dropped my chin and pointed my index finger at him. “Never again.”
My heart or sanity wouldn’t survive another jump scare. It seemed my life had turned into a horror flick, and no matter how many times someone or something popped out, I couldn’t stop screaming.
“Something’s wrong. You have to leave now.” Gren urged me forward, flailing his wings. Quakes of trepidation encased his body as he scanned the apartment.
Gren spoke again, but he talked so fast I couldn’t comprehend a word. “Hold on. Hold on. Breathe.” I reached out my hand and smoothed his feathers down.
“The others.” Gren hesitated and his vocal cords caved and his voice came out clipped. “They’re gone.” He shook his beak, not saying another word.
I opened my mouth but shut it. How could I comfort him when I couldn’t even comfort myself?
I got up and paced around and ended up settling by the stove beside the old, crusted pan of mac and cheese sitting there for god knows how long. Two, three days? A week?
My hands gripped the side of the oven, and I threw my head back and grumbled.
The possibilities were endless.
Valeria could have killed them to scare me, or someone else could be taking out the obstacles to get to me.
Should I skip town? Ah, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t afford it.
Gren’s feathers trembled, and it amplified my stress.
“It seems we’re both in a bit of a bind,” a deep voice growled from behind me.