Page 24 of Beautiful Killer

Julia crossed her arms. “I feel terrible leaving.”

“It’s okay,” I said to her. What else could I say?

She looked down at her phone. “Bobby gets upset if I’m away for too long. You understand, right?”

“It’s fine, really,” I lied. “You can’t put your life on hold for me forever, and it’s time I got on with things and back to the shop. It’s all good. I promise.” My belly squirmed, nerves spiking and clawing at me at just the thought of being alone. But Julia had done more than I ever expected, and I didn’t want to take advantage when the truce between us was still so new.

Bobby showed up a short time later to pick her up. I’d hoped he wouldn’t come in, unfortunately, I was wrong.

His eyes slid over me when he walked in, taking everything in. Bobby was tall and lanky, but also what a lot of women would consider good looking. I knew him, too well, his personality made him ugly in my eyes. He’d also come on to me when we were younger, several times. I’d tried to tell Julia but she accused me of being jealous and trying to steal her boyfriend.

“Babe,” he said to Julia and she rushed to him like she always did, plastering herself to his side.

I’d always hated how she did that.

His gaze slid back to me. “You look like shit, Sunny.” He took in the bandage on my face. “Not so pretty anymore, huh?”

Julia jerked back. “Bobby!”

He smacked her ass and gave her a push toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“I was thinking of maybe staying another night, just to keep Sunny company.”

Bobby shook his head. “I want you at home. Sunny’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

“Bobby . . .”

“I said no, Julia, now get in the fucking car.”

She shot me an apologetic look then hustled out the door behind her cretin of a husband.

The door shut behind them, and I was alone for the first time since the break in. The police still didn’t have any leads, which meant the man that had broken into my home, had come into my room, was still out there somewhere . . .

When bedtime finally rolled around, sleep eluded me again. I lay there, phone clutched in my hand, listening for footsteps, every creak and bump making my heart race. In the end, I dragged the quilt off the bed, went downstairs, curled up on the couch, and watched cooking shows until the early hours of the morning, when I finally drifted off.

I was exhausted the next day, but I forced myself to get dressed, to get ready for the day. I did my hair, giving it extra attention, since I couldn’t do a whole lot with my face. The concealer I’d used didn’t do a great job of hiding the bruising, but I didn’t let that deter me and added some lip-gloss, bright pink, in the hopes it would draw the eye away from everything else. Wishful thinking. I couldn’t spend another day at home, though, and definitely not alone, replaying that night over and over in my head. So I headed to the shop and opened up. I needed to work, to keep my mind busy. Customers stared, but no one asked about the bruises or the bandage. So I pretended everything was normal. I also made a call to the Ashwood Retirement Home and told them I couldn’t make it in for a few weeks. It would just upset everyone seeing me like this.

A couple of hours in I was starting to feel a little better, that I was getting on with things. I’d set myself up at my counter, and was working on some beaded necklaces. That helped as well. Being creative gave me joy. I needed as much of that as I could get.

The door opened and two women walked in. They’d been in quite a few times before. From watching them, it was easy to see they were best friends. I tried not to be obvious, but they kind of fascinated me, the way they teased and joked with each other.

They always bought something as well. It was easy to say they were my favorite customers. The striking redhead usually had an adorable little boy with her, not today, though. The brunette, also gorgeous, had a stripe of blue in her hair, the color seemed to change a lot, and she was wearing black framed reading glasses. She had an edge, all these stunning tattoos. I liked her style, it looked good on her. It didn’t surprise me that she was drawn to my leather work. That line was on the edgier side. She’d bough a few pieces, including a couple of tooled leather and silver cuffs the last time she and her friend came in. She was wearing one now. The redhead went for pieces that weren’t quite so out there. I’d sold her an amazing green and silver beaded necklace last time she was here that looked fantastic with her hair.

I liked talking to them.

What would it be like to have a friend like that?

My lips curled up, but I quickly stopped trying to smile when my stitches started to pull uncomfortably.

The redhead glanced over at me, a warm grin on her face. “Hi . . .” Her words trailed off.

Her friend turned as well, and her eyes widened when she saw me. They put down the items of jewelry they were holding and came over to me.

“Are you okay?” The dark-haired woman asked.

“Oh . . . yes . . . it’s just . . .” My hands lifted to the bandage and I fought a wince. “It’s nothing.”

“Sorry,” the redhead said quickly. “My friend here is extremely nosey.”