Chapter Six
Cole
On the off chance whoever was looking for Frank does call the authorities or gets into his apartment, I want to get that heart before it’s too late.
“Wait, you’re going back up there now?” Noelle steps closer in her cute little pajamas.
I can see the way the cold air makes her nipples pebble.
My gaze lingers on her a moment too long because she steps back and crosses her arms over her chest as if that will protect her from me.
Hard nipples are one thing, her ass cheeks hanging out of her shorts are another.
She’s dressed to provoke all the lustful feelings from a hot-blooded man like me.
I doubt she intended for anyone to see her when she put these on tonight but damn, it’s doing something to me.
“You’re not going to hurt me, right?” She takes a pointed step back.
Feeling a little bold, I stalk toward her with a hungry gaze that fixates on that beautiful face. “Why? Cause I’m the big bad serial killer who goes around raping women?”
For every step I take, Noelle takes another away from me.
“That’s not part of your MO.” I know that, but the way she says it makes me wonder how much she knows about me.
“Have you been studying me, beautiful?” My mouth stretches into a satisfied smirk.
“Of course,” she fires back, so self-assured. “You’re one of Detroit’s most notorious serial killers. This time of year, it’s hard not to go down the rabbit hole. You can’t go online without seeing something about the Serial Killer Santa.”
“I see.” Every step toward her makes her scent grow stronger, cherries and vanilla.
Fitting since there’s cherries on her pajamas.
Although my eyes have been locked on hers, I don’t miss the way her chest is rising and falling with such intensity.
It’s not rapid like a cornered animal afraid for its life.
No, this girl is relishing the thrill of it.
After all, it’s not every day you get a wanted murderer crashing in your apartment.
“Maybe you’re like some of the women in the Reddit forums,” I muse, thinking about some of the comments I see. “The ones who fantasize about me sneaking into their apartments and tying them up. The ones who want to know what Serial Killer Santa feels like inside them.”
At first I was just messing with her, but when Noelle’s eyelids grow heavy with the notion, I start to wonder if maybe she’s one of them. Maybe I don’t frighten her as much as she lets on.
Or even better, maybe I do and that’s a turn on for her.
With one final step, Noelle’s back hits the door jam to her bedroom and a startled gasp leaves those rosy lips.
“Is that what you want, Noelle?” I lower my voice to a gravely whisper. “Do you want me to take you? Bend you over the couch and have my way with you?”
“I–,” I seem to have a catatonic effect on this girl. She’s hardly able to form full sentences in my presence. “I–no. I don’t.”
I don’t believe her. Her pupils are dilated. Her nipples are still hard, and this close every breath she takes brushes her chest against mine. If she was really afraid of me, she’d be screaming, not keeping those enchanting eyes fixed on mine.
But I’m not a monster, contrary to my murderous hobby. I don’t take women without consent.
But if she did consent…No. I’m just here for the night and then I’ll go back to my mundane life until next December.
If I’m not mistaken, she looks disappointed when I put space between us, the cold air from the open window consuming the warmth our bodies created for that brief moment.
In response to the saddened look in her eyes I inform her, “Well, then it’s a good thing I’m a gentleman.”
“You’re a murderer.”
“The two are not synonymous.”
When I head back to the window I’m not the least bit surprised when she stops me. “Wait.” Her voice carries a hint of worry. “You’re really going back up there?”
“Sure am.” Proven by my left leg which is already out the window, planted on the fire escape landing. “Want to come with me?”
Noelle’s shock only lasts for a second before her curiosity takes over.
This is a test, I think she knows it, and I think she’ll pass.
But I’m testing to see just where she lands on the scale of morally gray.
If she was really black and white, she would have tried to find a way to alert someone about me already.
I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she’s very stealthy and she’s already done something to protect herself like record our conversation or send a secret message.
But I don’t think that’s the case. I think she wants to know more about me, I think her curiosity outweighs her sense of self-preservation.
Those gorgeous eyes flit from me to the open window then back to me again, taking my breath away each time she looks at me.
“Let me change into something warmer.” Well it’s a double edged sword, I guess. She’s stepping into my world for the night, she passed the test.
But she’s changing out of those tight little pajamas that make it hard to concentrate.
On second thought, maybe it’s a good thing she’s changing. I need to be alert when I’m working.
Noelle returns a moment later in winter pants, heavy snow boots, and a thick pink coat. Seems like a bit of overkill since we won’t be outside long, but ok.
I love how feminine she is, from the pastel coat to her delicate pajamas to the way her blonde bobbed hair frames her face.
Something about the way she carries herself and embraces all the “girly” sides of herself is wildly attractive.
She’s demure, that’s the word for it. Demure and feisty at the same time.
But with a mind that fascinates me if she’s willingly going into an apartment where she knows a dead body is waiting.
We’re going to retreive the dead guy’s heart, for fuck’s sake. The majority of the female population would cower at the idea. But not Noelle. She throws on her ladylike pink coat and big girl boots and follows me up the fire escape to find Frank’s severed heart.
What more could a man want in a woman.
As we pass Mel and Rex’s window, they make it painfully obvious they’re still in the throws of passion. Their moans ring out like the carol of bells.
“Yes, get the rabbit,” Mel pleads.
“Where’s my cockring?” Rex replies.
“Oh god,” Noelle groans.
I steal a glance over my shoulder at her and grin. “What’s the matter? You can handle conversations about murder but not the sounds of two people getting freaky?”
Noelle looks affronted by this accusation. “No.” Yeah, that doesn’t sound convincing. “They’re just doing it all the time. I can’t count the hours of sleep I’ve lost since their bedroom is right above mine.”
“I think someone’s jealous.”
“Of Rex and Mel?” She scoffs but there’s no merit to it. “As if.”
“Real convincing,” I tease. I like seeing her all riled up about this. It’s cute. Also makes me wonder how long it’s been for her. “There’s nothing wrong with two people having wild crazy sex on a regular basis. Don’t hate on their intimacy just because you’re in a dry spell.”
I’m watching my hands as I scale the final ladder to the landing outside Frank’s apartment but I hear the audible pop of her lips parting and her jaw dropping just before she scoffs again.
“I–you–you don’t know anything about my life. For all you know, I could have a rotation of men coming through my apartment every night.”
I thought killing people was fun, but getting Noelle all hot and bothered might be my new favorite hobby.
“If you were as sex positive as you claim to be, you wouldn’t be so offended right now.”
That shuts her up, which is good timing since we’re about to enter a crime scene and I can’t have her interfering with my system.
“Ok, ground rules.” I plant both hands on her shoulders which mercifully breaks what I like to call the touch barrier, and grants me her full, undivided attention.
“Don’t touch anything. Even when you climb inside, don’t put your gloves on the window.
Don’t move anything out of place. Stand still, observe, ask as many questions as you want, but don’t interfere with the crime scene unless you want the police knocking down your door. Understood?”
With a little sass she says, “Yes, sir.” I’d love to fuck the sass right out of her and hear her call me sir in a very different way.
I slip inside the apartment first then give Noelle my hand to help steady her as she clambers in after me. Her gaze locks on the dead body immediately. Hard not to since he’s lying in the middle of the living room. Not to mention all the blood, that’s a bit of an eye sore.
There’s no fear in Noelle’s eyes, no grief over the lost soul, no trepidation at the sight of a corpse just a few feet away. She’s curious by nature and this entirely new experience seems to spark something in her brain that’s just out of reach.
Watching her wrestle with her moral compass and inquisitive mind is something to behold.
Now to find the heart. I can’t exactly remember where I left it in my panic. Losing a human heart isn’t something I do on a regular basis, I’m usually much more careful with the organs I take from my victims.
You wouldn’t think tracking down a bleeding heart in a small apartment would be that difficult but in the dark it’s like a game of Where’s Waldo.
Only in my case it’s a game of Where’s the Evidence?
Thinking back to the panic of trying to get out of here before I got caught, I retrace my steps and find the heart in the ziplock bag I stored it in sitting on the entryway table by the door.
“Bingo,” I congratulate myself on successfully finding evidence that could get me thrown in jail for the rest of my life.
Noelle cocks her head to the side as she asks, “You keep the hearts in a ziplock bag?”
“Yea. Why? Where do you keep yours?”
“In my chest where it will stay until I die of old age.”
“Or I cut it out,” I joke. When her eyes grow to the size of snowballs I placate her. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Your chest is way too pretty to cut into.”
A soft blush creeps over her nose and cheeks at the complement. “So you don’t kill the pretty ones?” She spars with me.
This time when I move closer, she doesn’t back away. A fire ignites in her eyes. Excitement. Good. I had a feeling she’d be into this. Not that I’m about to ravage her next to a dead body, though, that would be unsanitary.
In a moment of wild abandon, I shoot my hand up to her throat and encircle her pretty neck in my grasp. Her lips part, a shocked breath escapes her, but she doesn’t look terrified. No, she looks ready to combust. I wonder if she’s known the thrill turns her on or if this is all new for her.
“There’s a lot of other things I’d rather do with you. Killing you would be a waste.”
And to my utter delight and surprise, she replies, “Are you going to keep teasing me or are you going to kiss me already?”