Page 97 of I Know Your Secret
She’s back home. My pacing can cease. Thankfully, I made a trip to her house today to drop off her belongings. I listened to her softly snore.
It took her until 2:00 a.m. to fall asleep, which was very unlike her.
I got great amusement out of her finding my additions to her e-reader and hearing her phone conversation with Allison.
I was highly disappointed when she poured perfectly good wine down the drain, thinking it was contaminated, but I’m trying not to fixate on things I can’t control.
I have a job I need to focus on.
Even if all I want to do is sneak into Greer’s house and fuck her senseless.
I should be digging my heels into this new case that Helms put me on, but instead, I’m shoving my key into Greer’s door.
Bear greets me, and I give him a good rub down. Strange how much I missed the little asshole after a few days apart. Even when Greer didn’t know who I was, Bear and I were close.
When I take up my post beside her bed, feeling more at ease the longer I loom, I exhale shakily.
She’s like a fucking drug that I can’t quit. I couldn’t think straight knowing she was here. I couldn’t focus until I had my hit.
After the last job I took her along on and everything that happened afterward, I know she’s processing a lot. Usually, I wouldn’t give a shit. Still, I need her far away from what I’m doing for the moment, so I’ll slink back into the shadows and make her think I’m behind bars while I figure out why the hell Helms gave me so much more information than I’m usually privy to before a hit.
Greer turns over in her sleep, a small whimper escaping. “Koen,” she breathes.
My mind stops racing, and it feels as though my heart skips a beat.
I step closer, narrowing my stare.
Is she awake?
This is precisely why I started slipping shit into her wine.
Her eyes are closed, her pouty lips spread open slightly.
Is she dreaming of me?
It’s not too far-fetched with everything going on in her life.
Everything ties back to her deranged stalker, who fucked her ten ways to Sunday and then got arrested.
She’s had a rough couple of years.
I grin at the thought.
Tormenting my pretty little poison is what I live for anymore.
It used to be taking lives that kept my sick brain straight. Now, it’sher.
Another small moan stutters out of her as she rustles, and instinctively, I reach for her.
My hand spreads over her stomach.
Shit.
I freeze, hoping like hell she doesn’t rouse. Before, I worked my way up to touching her. But that was also before she was aware I could get into the house.
Her phone’s on charge beside her bed; she knows I was here.
She’ll be hyperaware of her surroundings from now on.
