Chapter 12 Colson
Colson
My eyelids flutter, and when I open them, it takes a minute for me to remember where I am.
Specter.
I stretch slightly, enveloped in blankets. This mattress is divine. I’m surprised I slept so well in a foreign place, but I’m thankful. Maybe I’ll be able to think straight today.
I roll over and flinch from the pain of my bruised cheek meeting the pillow. Ow. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I grab it blindly, pressing the answer button.
“What?” I grumble.
“It’s Rudy. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I texted him last night after everything happened so at least one person knew where I was. “Just woke up.”
“Wow. It’s almost ten. That’s late for you.”
“I was up late.”
“Is he nice?”
I open my mouth to say something snarky about how he murders people for a living, but I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to keep that to myself. “Nice enough. His bed is dreamy.”
“You slept with him? Girl.”
“No. I slept in his bed.” I rub my forehead, realizing he’s not beside me. “He was a gentleman.”
Rudy squeals loud enough that I pull the phone away from my ear. “Oh my god. He’s so dreamy. You were right to call him.”
“I think so too. Listen, Rudy, don’t tell anyone what happened yet, okay? I have to figure out what I’m doing next.”
“Yeah, of course. Are you gonna stay there a while?”
“He wants me to.” I glance around to make sure I’m alone. “It’s weird, you know? I don’t know him.”
“Cas, come on. Your instincts about people are always on point. Trust your gut.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “I’m trying. I’ll call you later when I know more.”
“Please do.”
I end the call and crawl out of bed to the bathroom to piss.
When I catch my reflection, I groan. The bruise on my cheek is angry, deep purple and red, swelling just under my eye.
At least the club is closed tonight, and I have tomorrow off too.
Maybe by Tuesday I’ll be able to cover it with makeup.
I leave the bathroom and plop down on the love seat.
Where is Specter? Out murdering someone?
I knew he was trouble. Rudy’s right about my instincts though.
He has danger written all over him, but I didn’t expect that.
A hitman? Those are actually real? I know the Mafia is still a thing, but this doesn’t seem like that.
He doesn’t come across as one of those guys at all, and I met plenty of them back in my stripping days.
He’s also the most intense person I’ve ever met. I’ve known my share of men who wanted to fuck me, but never have I been called art. It’s like he somehow sees behind this facade of protection I created over a decade ago, and I don’t know how that makes me feel.
Vulnerable.
Uncomfortable.
But also something else.
Seen.
I drag a hand through my unruly hair. The worst thing I could do is let my guard down and get attached to Specter. I’m not letting myself get romantically involved with a murderer. No way.
The bedroom door opens and Specter enters carrying a tray. He’s only wearing shorts that dip low, revealing miles of hard muscled and tattooed skin. Holy fuck. He’s magnificent.
“Hungry?” he asks.
I nod as the scent of bacon hits my nose.
“Good. I have eggs and bacon and, of course, coffee.”
“Thank you.” He sets the tray on the coffee table and settles next to me on the love seat. “Did you make this?”
“No.” He chuckles, but it’s brief. I doubt he laughs much. “I’m a pretty bad cook. Wraith made it.”
“Wraith,” I repeat. “How many guys live here?”
“Eight right now. Stealth is… away.”
I can tell from his tone that he doesn’t want to say more than that. “That’s a lot of people.”
“It’s a big house. Sixteen bedrooms in all.”
“Damn.” I take the plate he offers me and dig right in. I didn’t even realize I was so hungry. The eggs are fluffy and the bacon is that perfect balance between chewy and crunchy that I love. The coffee is strong as fuck, but I need it.
“How did you sleep?”
“Good, thanks. You?”
Specter shrugs. “I was distracted.”
“By me?”
He shakes his head. “By what happened to you.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He sips his coffee. “I’ll find him.”
“I believe you.” I chew a bite of bacon. “Did you eat?”
“I did, yeah. I’ve been awake a while.” He holds his cup to his lips but doesn’t drink. “Instead of watching you sleep, I hit the gym.”
“How uncreepy of you.”
“I try.” A slight smile tugs at his lips, and I wonder what a full smile would look like on him. Will I ever find out?
I have questions, lots of them, but no idea how to ask them. And questions always lead to more questions, and then he may want to know things about me that I’m not willing to tell him yet. Or maybe ever. Hard to say.
“Segreto is closed today, right? And you’re off tomorrow?”
“You really did stalk me.”
“I wish you wouldn’t use that word. I just took an intense interest in you, that’s all.”
That actually makes me laugh. “That’s what we’re calling it. Okay.”
His expression is dead serious. “I would never hurt you.”
“I think I know that, or I wouldn’t be here.”
He leans close to me. “And I’ll fucking kill anybody who does. I’ll hunt down every demon and drag them back to hell. Count on it.”
His words leave me breathless. I pride myself on my ability to take care of myself, but it’s kind of nice to think that maybe just this once I don’t have to.
“After you eat, we’ll go to your apartment and get your things.”
“So bossy.” I smile slightly to take the sting out of my words. “Do you always get everything you want?”
“So far.” He brushes his fingers down my thigh. “But that was only after decades of having nothing.”
Maybe he really could understand me. “Specter isn’t your real name, I take it.”
His lips curl into an almost-smile and he nods once.
“You’re not telling me your actual name?”
“That version of me doesn’t exist anymore. Specter is what’s left.”
Yeah, I think he could.
“Is Cashmere your real name?”
“Touché.” I probably have to tell him my real name if I want this backstory about my stalker to make any sense. Fuck. I rarely say it aloud anymore. It’s like my own secret comfort—a tiny connection to the life I had before everything went wrong.
“When you’re ready,” Specter says. “I’m listening.”
I nod, swallowing down the lump of emotions in my throat. “Later.”
“I’ll be here.”
Despite the unpleasantness of it, I pull on my mangled leggings and sweater from last night.
It’s too cold out for me to wear Specter’s oversized shorts, so I’ll endure.
My hair is a mess too without my blow-dryer and round brush, and I can’t believe I’m going to allow myself to be seen in public looking like this.
I wet my hands and drag them through my hair to tame it a bit, but there’s no fixing it.
It’s not like anyone who sees me will notice my hair after they see this glaring bruise on my face anyway.
Ugh. My lips are dry without my bedtime lip oil and my skin is tight from showering without my moisturizer.
I blow out a breath to soothe my discomfort. Specter might have saved my life last night. I can deal with some minor inconveniences.
When I exit the bathroom, he’s standing in front of the windows with his phone to his ear. He’s dressed how I normally see him, in tight black pants that hug his thick thighs tucked into heavy boots and a black turtleneck, his hair slicked back.
He turns to face me, his face a blank mask, but his lips quirk up just slightly when he sees me.
“Yeah, of course,” he says into the phone. “Shouldn’t be long.” He nods, his eyes still trained on me. “Thanks, man. See you soon.”
He ends the call and shoves the phone into his back pocket. His eyes take me in, lingering on the bruise and the bloody tear in my leggings over my scraped knee. I don’t even remember that part.
“Ready?” he asks.
As a nervous shiver moves down my spine, I blow out a breath. “I think so.”
“Hey.” He walks toward me. “You aren’t alone. I’m bringing Wraith too. He’ll keep watch while we’re inside.”
“Why is he called Wraith?”
“You don’t want to know.”
I nod, following him to the door. “Do any of you have regular names? Like…” I shrug. “Grumpy or Sleepy or—”
“We aren’t the seven dwarfs.”
“So no, then?”
He huffs a slight laugh. “Most of our names are somewhat intimidating and generally relate to our… our style, if you will.”
“So, Specter, it’s just another word for ghost, right?”
“Yes, but I got it because of my ability to create a haunting experience.” He opens the bedroom door, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him. “I rarely go for a quick kill. I like to drag it out, menace them for a while, make sure they know they’re being hunted.”
A different kind of shiver moves through me. I should not find anything he’s saying appealing, but my body didn’t get that message.
“You’re a cat with a mouse that you torture before you kill?”
“Something like that.”
“Is it fun that way?”
My question seems to stump him as a deep crease appears between his eyebrows. He doesn’t answer me as we walk down the stairs and wait in the foyer.
“It keeps it interesting,” Specter finally says.
I nod, biting my bottom lip. I have more questions, of course I do, but my attention is pulled to the stairs as a man comes bounding down them.
He’s got long reddish-brown hair in a low bun at the base of his neck, sharp features, dark brown eyes, and a goofy grin when he sees Specter.
His expression neutralizes though as it settles on me, specifically on my cheek.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters. His voice is accented, but I can’t tell from where.
“Yeah,” Specter says. “Ready?”
“No introduction?” Wraith says in a slightly teasing tone.
“Shit. Sorry. Wraith, this is Cashmere. This is my coworker Wraith.”
“I’m his friend too.” Wraith winks.
I smile slightly. He seems to have a polar opposite personality to Specter.
“Come on. Let’s go hunt us a boogeyman.” Wraith pushes past us out the door while Specter shakes his head.