Chapter 9
Holly
Now
My ego does not, in fact, keep me warm.
I don’t get why people romanticize New York winters so much.
They are absolute ass. An icy breeze whooshes past my face, biting into my skin, and I pull my coat tight.
My feet pick up the pace, trying their best to get me to the nearest train station.
I trudge through the icy streets, my feet aching and my toes numb as the biting cold seeps through my thin-soled heels.
A black Prius pulls up beside me. The passenger window rolls down and I’m pretty sure my entire face twitches.
“Fancy seeing you here, Hol,” Theo says with a burgeoning smile. I want to stab it.
He rests his forearm on the steering wheel and leans forward to get a better look at me. His dark hair flops over his forehead and he brushes it back, revealing his eyes that look more blue and striking than usual against the backdrop of the snow.
I want to stab them too.
“Going for an evening stroll?” he adds.
I inhale a small breath. Exhale. And then resume walking.
“Oh come on, love,” Theo steps on the gas, staying by my side. “It’s dark.”
“Good observation.”
Theo absolutely cackles and I bask in the sound of his laughter for a beat.
My heart splits in two with the overwhelming need to make him do it again and — whoa, what the fuck?
Where the hell did that come from? The cold is making me delirious.
Or maybe it’s that weird-looking muffin I ate at the hospital cafeteria a few days back. Food poisoning?
“It’s starting to snow, Hollister.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“You’re going to fall sick.”
“I’ll be fine.” I pick up my pace. “You can drive along and leave me alone now.”
“No can do. Goes against my code of ethics as a doctor.”
“Well, in that case.” I pause to look at him. “You can drive along and leave me alone, Dr. Carter.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. He tilts his head to the side and watches me with a smile and a tiny gleam in his eye.
His laugh might make me feel like a million bucks, but that smug smile makes me feel murderous. More than usual. He’s looking at me like he’s got me all figured out. I don’t like it.
He wants me to get inside his car? Sure.
It’ll make gouging out his eyes that much easier.
The mental image of his eyeballs squelching against my thumbs calms me down.
A few strategically placed liquor bottles and I could make his death look like an accident.
But that seems like a waste of alcohol. I could just blame it on the weather.
Any kind of storm — rain or snow — is always useful in these kinds of situations. Really, the possibilities are endless.
“Holly?” he speaks up, interrupting my thoughts.
“What?”
“Get in the car.”
“I’m perfectly capable of walking home without your protection.”
He snorts. “Noted, but I can’t have a psychopath wandering the streets unsupervised.”
On the outside, I might look all calm and collected, but internally I’m freaking out.
Is he joking or does he know something? Is he trying to insinuate something?
Am I being paranoid again? And psychopath?
Just because I kill men doesn’t mean I’m a psychopath.
Some people are just worthless shit stains who deserve to die.
It’s as simple as that. If anything, I’m doing the world a favor by hastening their end.
I’m not a psychopath. That’s actually a very hurtful stereotype.
Not all murderers are psychopaths. Just like not all murders are crimes. I’m just…passionate.
Theo honks twice. I flinch. “Get in the car,” he says.
“No.”
A few snowflakes fall across my shoulder and his eyes graze the spot before lifting to meet mine again. “I don’t have all day, Holly. Get in the car. Now.”
“I don’t like being told what to do.”
A brief pause and then he leans forward, opening the door for me. “Don’t make me drag you inside.”
An icy gust of wind chooses that exact fucking moment to whip past me and I audibly shiver.
Theo’s brows knit up. “Love, please. Get inside before you catch a cold.”
It’s the strange concern in his voice and that damn “love” that ultimately melts my resolve.
Begrudgingly, I get inside, inhaling the clean leather scent.
The second I shut the passenger side door, I feel some tension in my stomach, thinking about how when you are in someone’s car, you’re their captive.
But then, Theo turns a dial on the dashboard and heat blasts through the vents, and I instantly feel better.
“Better?” he asks.
I cut him a scathing glance.
“I think this is where you say thank you.”
I consider strangling him then and there, already feeling his neck muscles giving way under my fingers, and hearing the satisfying crack of his neck snapping. “It’s not my job to soothe your fractured ego.”
Theo hesitates, studying me for a moment. His mouth turns into a thin line, his jaw tightening.
“Just drive,” I say.
“Holly.” There’s no warmth in his tone.
“Thank you, Theo. There? Are you happy —”
Before I can finish my sentence, he leans in and grips my chin. My breath catches. “What the fuck —”
The pad of Theo’s index finger traces the curve beneath my jaw, and I freeze.
Eyes glued to my mouth, his other hand slides over my stomach, around the satin fabric of my dress, till he’s basically gripping my waist, his touch gentle, yet firm.
My heart riots behind my ribs.
The sirens in my brain go off. My fingers twitch involuntarily — a reflex reaction — aching to reach for the scalpel in my purse and shove it inside his throat.
I swallow once, twice, waiting for the inevitable panic attack of being touched without any warning.
But it doesn’t come. Various emotions buzz beneath my skin, but panic isn’t one of them.
This feels…different. I’m not sure what.
A warm sensation moves over my chest, soothing the frantic beat of my heart.
Thawing and permeating through the layers of my skin, all the way to my bones.
Like a blanket of sorts. A coating. A hot glow.
My skin is tingling.
Theo’s gaze is heavy on my mouth and since I’m a moron who’s lost all control over her own body, I choose that exact moment to lick my lips.
Eyes still down, the fucker smiles. Again.
“Someone ought to teach you some manners, Dr. Moore,” he whispers, his eyes finally fusing with mine.
“Get fucked —”
The soft click of the seatbelt interrupts me.
“Now, we can leave.” Theo’s eyes leave mine to watch my throat bob as I swallow and he leans back into his own seat, his hand lingering for a moment before reluctantly pulling away.
He eases away from the curb and cranks the heat up some more.
My heart hammers against my chest and I touch my neck repeatedly.
What…just happened? What the fuck was that and why didn’t I want it to stop?
It’s as though someone just sucked all the air out of my lungs.
“Want some music?” he asks casually.
Heat rushes into my cheeks when I look away. I’d like to be witty and avoid stroking his ego, but I’m so flustered that all I come up with is, “No.”
A few more minutes drift by as he continues to drive. “I could’ve done that myself,” I say.
Theo chuckles and thousands of tiny butterflies flap their wings in the pit of my stomach. “I haven’t even played anything yet,” he says.
“I meant the seatbelt.”
“Ah,” he muses. Sarcastically, I’m sure. “I’m sorry about that.” He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “You all right?”
No. “Just drive.”
His gaze stays fixated on me for a second, before he turns to face the road. “Fifty bucks,” he says.
“What?”
“The fine for not wearing a seatbelt is fifty bucks. Didn’t want to risk it.”
“I’ve seen you wear a Burberry coat to work.”
His eyes stay on the road but the corner of his mouth arches up. “That’s a little creepy, Hollister. You sound like a stalker.”
Oh, how I wish I had my scalpel right now.
“So…music?”
I lean back in the seat, my posture still tense. “You listen to music?” My question is obviously rhetorical, but since Theo Carter is the actual bane of my existence, he answers anyway.
“The screams of your enemies tend to get a bit tedious after a point.”
Of course. I roll my eyes and reach forward and press the play button on his stereo. Nothing happens. So I press harder. “It’s broken.”
“Don’t hit it. Just press it gently.”
“I am pressing it gently.”
“No, you’re not.”
I glare at him. “Fine. You try then. Play something.”
“What would you like?”
The words shoot out of me before I have a chance to stop them, “I want to know what you like.”
Theo’s eyebrows rise, disappearing into his hairline. My words are met with silence. They hang in the air, consuming all the oxygen inside the car. Shocked is an understatement for how I'm feeling. Did I seriously just say that? Out loud?
You can tell a lot about a person from their playlist. My sister, for example, is a major Taylor Swift fan. Which explains a lot, since she’s a better human being than me. Generally speaking. Full of kindness and sunshine. Too good for this world.
My playlist, however, consists mainly of Chase Atlantic and Halsey. Which is basically code for “I'm hot, possibly depressed, and have a real talent for stabbing people.”
So, while I deeply regret having shown any interest in Theo’s likes and dislikes, a part of me is curious about his taste in music.