Kissing the Killer(10)

“We’re in this together now, Emma,” he said. “Like it or not, we have to figure this shit out together.”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked again.

He just shrugged. “Good night. If you get lonely, come join me out here.” He smirked and then lay down on the couch.

I retreated back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I got into his unfamiliar bed, my head spinning, totally unsure about what was going on.

He could have killed me at any moment, but he didn’t. He could have taken me any time he wanted, but he put clothes on my back instead. He could have kept me locked in that closet, but instead he was letting me sleep in his own bed.

Brooks was a killer. He’d murdered my father and countless other men. But he was being kind to me, even if he was a little cocky.

I didn’t know what I was feeling. I couldn’t decide if he was lying to me or if he was telling the truth. Part of me believed him, and I knew that a lot of what he was saying was pretty logical.

Still, I’d promised myself that I’d never let myself get owned by another man. I’d spent too long acting as a slave for my father.

I had to get away. Even if Brooks was telling the truth, I had to run. I’d rather take a chance and die out on my own, a free woman, than let him control me.





5





Brooks





In my dream, my mother was alive. I was a kid again, and she was smiling down at me. She took me by the hand and led me outside, into the park.

As we walked toward the jungle gym, she talked. I couldn’t understand her, but she sounded happy. Slowly though, her face began to morph. The skin around her face became bruised and beaten, black and blue, old and decaying.

I woke up with a start just as my mother turned into a skeleton before my eyes.

My apartment was empty and quiet. I was on the couch and the early morning sun was streaming in through the window. I’d gotten maybe three or four hours of sleep at most, and I probably wasn’t getting much more tonight.

I sat back and sighed. I had a small television set up against the wall, a coffee table, a little kitchen table, and that was about it. The place felt bare because it was. I spent most of my time out on jobs, at clubs, and occasionally at the Barone mansion. I just didn’t have time to decorate or any of that shit.

As I scanned the room, I felt like something was off. Something was wrong. I slowly got off the couch and walked toward the bedroom door. I eased it open gently and peered inside.

The bed was empty.

“Shit,” I said.

I went through the whole place, which took about thirty seconds. Emma was gone, absolutely gone.

I quickly got dressed and slipped my gun into my jeans. I had to find her before anyone else did, or else she was dead and I wasn’t too far behind her.

Damn girl. She was a lot more difficult than I had imagined. Strong willed and with a big fucking temper to boot. I never would have guessed that she was going to come at me like she did. She was like a fucking wild animal when I let her out of the closet, a beautiful fucking wild animal.

I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to see her strip. The girl had a body like nothing I’d ever seen before, and my cock was hard just thinking about her. Those lips and that fierce expression on her face, angry and resentful, hatred etched across her eyes, it just made me more fucking excited.

I wanted to slide my thick cock between her legs, feel that dripping pussy. I was willing to bet I could tame her wild streak with my fingers and my tongue, get her begging for my big cock to make her come again and again.

But I could worry about that another time. Right now I needed to find her.

I pushed out of my apartment and hit the stairs, taking them two at a time. I had no clue when she left or where she was going, but I had to try to find her.

I stopped in my tracks as I got to the bottom of the stairs. Emma was curled in the corner next to the front door of the apartment building. I walked toward her cautiously until I realized that she was fast asleep.

Did she get down here and forget how to use a door? It wasn’t locked, so she could have easily just opened it and left.

“Emma,” I said, standing over her.

She didn’t stir.

“Emma,” I said again, more loudly, and nudged her with my toe.

She jolted awake, sitting up and looking around wildly.

“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re safe.”

She stared up at me defiantly for a second before looking down at the ground. “I wanted to leave,” she said.

“Door’s right there.”

“I don’t have money, or anywhere to go.” She looked back up at me. “I’ve never been out of Chicago.”

I frowned. “Really?”