Chapter 4 #2
I continue to look down at him until so much time passes that I don’t realize I’ve been here for an hour. If not for a car rolling down loudly on the street, I wouldn’t have glanced at my phone.
It hits me then: my fingerprints are everywhere.
Panic batters in my gut. I can’t get caught. I can’t go to prison. I can’t be caged again.
“Oh, God…” I rush toward the kitchen, grab one of his hand towels, and wrap the knife in it before stuffing it in my pocket.
I don’t know where else I left evidence. I don’t even know how to get rid of it.
But I know someone who does. The thought of calling him pains me, but I have no choice. I have to trust he’ll keep this between us and not kill me for it.
My fingers shake as I find his name in my cell and call. It rings and rings, and he finally answers.
“Yeah?”
“Michael?” I sniffle. “I—I need your help. I did something…something bad, and I can’t fix it alone.” I pause with a soft cry. “I’m sorry.”
His breathing is heavy across the line, and for one moment I’m afraid he’ll tell me to fuck off.
But instead, he says, “Address. Now. And don’t touch anything.”
Too late.
ADRIEL
Well, well. I didn’t see this coming.
Kayla is a little killer.
She already has a way of surprising me. Something no one has ever managed to do. But a stripper and a murderer? She only continues to intrigue me.
Have there been others, or is this her first time? Did she like how it felt? Did she feel remorse? Or was it satisfaction?
She didn’t realize I followed her after I stopped that man from hurting her like he did her friend.
She didn’t see my face, and that was intentional. I don’t want her to see it. To know who I am. Seeing me will only make it harder for me to watch her from a distance. And that’s exactly what I intend to do. Little wolf needs someone to keep an eye on her when she hunts.
And she is a hunter, whether she knows it yet or not. I can see it there in her eyes as she stares at the dead body with a cold glower.
What happened to her? What made her this way?
Did she grow up like me? Did she have parents who didn’t give a shit? Or was she born this way? More nature than nurture?
From the window, I continue to curiously observe her, wondering, waiting to make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.
She called someone, though. I heard a name. Is that who she’s waiting for?
About thirty minutes later, I get my answer when a black SUV shows up, and another behind it. Two guys roll out of the first and four from the other.
I slink behind the shed, spotting them entering the house. Returning to the window, I see her throw her arms around the neck of one of the men, though from this angle I can’t see him well.
Tentatively, he closes his arms around her in a brief hug before he looks at the damage she’s caused.
“What did he do?” His words stomp out of him.
As he continues to speak, my pulse kicks up. Because I recognize it.
No way. It can’t be.
But when he pivots toward me and I catch the thick scar on his right cheek, his eyes almost black, there’s no mistaking him.
Michael Marino.
Fuck!
How the hell does this woman know my brother? Half brother, but brother nonetheless.
Not that it matters much. He’s as good as dead. They all are. And I want my mother to watch it happen.
Want to see her take her last breath, knowing it’s her little darling boy who sliced her open.
She can add it to her little book of memories. The one she keeps under her mattress. Wonder if she knows I broke into her home and went through every bit of it.
But know what I didn’t see? A photo of me.
“Why would you do this, Kayla?” Michael crosses his arms. “Did he try something?”
She nods.
“He…he tried to hurt my friend. I had no choice. Please believe me.” She’s crying pitifully now, like a damsel in distress.
“Where is she? Your friend.”
“N-not here.” Her voice sounds small. Scared.
I grin.
Little wolf is a good liar. I almost believe her.
“The girl ran off,” she goes on. “I stayed because he made me. Please…” She grabs his forearm while the others start wrapping the dead body up in a tarp. “Please don’t tell Elsie.”
“I don’t plan to. She doesn’t need to worry about you more than she already does. This stays here. Do you understand?”
“Of course.” She nods, then asks, “What are you gonna do with him?”
“That’s not for you to worry about. But hear me…”
His agitation radiates out of him. I can see both Michael’s and Kayla’s profiles easily.
“That whole not-wanting-a-bodyguard bullshit? That ends. Today. You don’t have a choice anymore. You will get one assigned to you tomorrow.”
Fuck. That will make things complicated. How can I watch her now?
Gonna have to figure it out.
Don’t worry, little wolf. I’ll be there making sure he’s on his best behavior.
She groans, but I can see it: she doesn’t have a choice in the matter.
She clearly means something to my brother, yet she’s not his wife. That’s Elsie. She must be her friend. But I’ve never seen Kayla around when I’ve followed Elsie. I’ll find out exactly how she knows my so-called family.
“Do we understand each other?” Michael clips out. “There’s a damn killer on the loose. And you know someone is trafficking women for the Bianchis again. They could come after you. They may want to take you back. And now this!”
And there it is.
Her demons.
I instantly want to find the ones who took her and send them straight to hell. Is that what she wants too? Does she want to see them suffer? Is that why she took this asshole’s life?
I can help her. I can bring her darkest thoughts to light. Would she let me? Or would she run?
I’m faster, little wolf. But I won’t hurt you. I’ll keep you safe. Even if it’s from a distance.
“I won’t take no for an answer anymore, Kayla.” Michael continues to stare at her. “Elsie cares too much for you, and I won’t watch my wife hurting anymore.”
“I’m so sick of this!” she hollers, and that woman I first saw at the bar finally makes an appearance. “I don’t want to live my life afraid, constantly looking over my shoulder. I want to live for once in my fucking life!”
He sighs and nods once, like he understands.
But he doesn’t. How could he? People like him will never understand people like us.
And she and I? We’re the same, in a way. I wish we weren’t. No one should endure that level of pain. Especially not someone like her…
My fingertip traces the window, outlining her face.
He steps back and hands her a bag I didn’t see him holding. “I need the clothes you’re wearing. Put these on and put the old ones in here.”
“Why?” She grabs the bag.
“Burning them. Now stop asking so many questions and hurry so we can leave before a neighbor shows up.”
“Okay.”
She steps backward and rushes into another room, disappearing from view. But I follow, inspecting her through another window as she strips her clothes.
As she faces my direction, her eyes appear sullen until her bottom lip trembles, and she collapses onto the floor.
Quiet sobs fall into her palms.
It’s like I can feel the moisture on the pads of my fingers, outline the agony carved into her soul.
My heart drums a little faster. My fingers reach for her, wanting to…
To what? Touch her? Hold her? Make her feel better?
The thoughts ridicule me. I don’t do that. I don’t provide comfort. I don’t even know how.
She collects herself a minute later and swipes her forearm under her eyes before she puts on the jeans and t-shirt Michael brought. Quickly, she slips the other clothes inside the bag and marches back out. Like nothing ever happened.
I follow back to the other window just as she’s handing him the bag.
She peers in my direction for a brief moment, and I quickly retreat, wondering if she caught sight of me.
And this tiny flicker of hope springs to life, wishing she did. Wishing she knew I followed her. That I know what she’s done. That I’m proud of her. That I will protect her.
“Make sure this never happens again,” Michael’s voice echoes.
Gradually, I glance through the window, seeing her attention on my brother now.
“I promise,” she says, her tone sheepish.
But I know her better than my brother does.
She’s gonna do this again.
And the next time, she won’t need him. Because I’ll be there to clean up her mess.
I’m good at that.
And soon, she’ll learn all of my hidden talents.