Page 41 of Beautiful Killer

Zeke’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know if the burglary was random or not, but if some guy wants to hurt you, Sunny, I’m not going to make it easy for him. I’m not letting him come any-fucking-where near you.”

I kept pushing; self-preservation had well and truly kicked in. Staying here longer would not be good for my emotional health, I knew that much. “I’d be just as safe in a hotel. I can afford a good one, one with excellent security.”

“You’re not leaving,” he said in a tone that did not encourage further argument.

What the hell could I do? This situation was insane. And not just the part about some guy hanging around my house, maybe wanting to hurt me again. The way we’d met, the way we’d ended—walking into the King Agency and coming face-to-face with him after weeks of nothing. I was trying to give him an out. Why the hell wouldn’t he take it? I hated the thought of him being forced to spend time with me. As awkward as it was, I needed to get that across to him.

I drew in a steadying breath. “Look, I know having me here isn’t what you want. Last night was . . . it . . . it happened. But you don’t need to feel responsible for me because we’ve had sex a few times.” Okay, we’d had sex a heck of a lot more than a few, but I wasn’t getting into specifics. I curled my fingers against my sides, so tight my nails dug into my palms, and I forced myself to continue. “And you . . . don’t need to sleep with me, as a way of keeping me here.”

His knife and fork clattered to the breakfast bar and his head shot up. “What?” he growled.

I held his dark stare, determined to get this out. “You’re a protective kind of guy, and you feel like you have to protect me . . . because of everything. You feel responsible, and you did what you thought you needed to do to get me here, I get it, I do . . .” My words just kind of evaporated at the look on Zeke’s face.

“You think I fucked you last night . . . because I feel guilty? You think I tricked you, pretended I wanted to fuck you, as a way of getting you here . . . to protect you?”

Okay. Yeah, put like that, it sounded kind of ridiculous and more than a little insulting. “Look, maybe I’m wrong . . .”

“You think?” The stare he aimed at me made my pulse race. A mix of anger and a heat so intense I felt scorched from it. “I fucked you, Sunny, because you’re gorgeous and whenever I look at you my dick gets hard. I would have protected you whether getting you under me was on offer or not.”

I swallowed, hard. I’d offended him. Idiot. I was just so used to being alone, to those close to me being dishonest. Pretending to be something they weren’t to get what they wanted from me. Abandoning me when I couldn’t deliver. “I obviously interpreted the situation wrong, I’m sorry.”

He stood, his eyes darker than I’d ever seen them. “I have to leave for a bit. You’re safe here, but don’t leave the warehouse,” he said, ignoring my apology completely.

I straightened. “You’re going?”

“I shouldn’t be long.” Then he strode across the warehouse and up to his room. When he reappeared, he was wearing a clean shirt and his boots. He swiped his keys off the counter. “Be back later.” Then he walked through the door and out to the garage. His car started a few seconds later. Then I was on my own.

My stomach rumbled and I looked down at the breakfast I’d made. I already felt ill over this whole messed-up situation, and the idea of greasy food now made me feel kind of queasy despite my hunger. I cut off a piece of bacon, dipped it in egg yolk and popped it in my mouth. As soon as it hit my taste buds, saliva filled my mouth, and not in a good way. I dropped the fork and ran for the downstairs bathroom, only just making it to the toilet. I heaved and emptied my stomach. There wasn’t much there. I realized I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. My Chicken Parmesan must still be in Zeke’s car.

I groaned as another wave of nausea hit.

I sat there dry heaving for what felt like hours. I was either going to bring up an internal organ or die, but then slowly, ever so slowly, I started to feel better. Enough to make it upstairs and lie down. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d obviously picked up a bug from somewhere. God, that was the last thing I needed.

I fell asleep a few minutes later.

Zeke

The warehouse was silent when I walked in. It was late afternoon by the time I finished checking CCTV footage, desperately trying to ID the guy I’d seen outside Sunny’s place. I watched him at her door, then her window, before I showed up and he ran off. Christ. None of the footage was clear enough to get a clean image of his face. Which meant the fucker was still out there—and as dangerous as ever.

I was positive this guy was linked to the burglary, he had to be, which meant Sunny wasn’t going anywhere. Despite her sudden desire to get the hell away from me. I shoved a hand through my hair. The shit she’d said this morning . . .

Fuck.

I shook my head, dumped my phone and keys on the counter and headed to the downstairs bathroom. I knocked on the closed door. “You in there, Sunny?”

Nothing.

She was probably just upstairs, but fear spiked through me instantly, and there was no reining it in, no matter how irrational it was. I was moving across the room and pounding up the stairs a second later. If she’d left . . . if anything happened to her . . .

My feet ground to a halt when I reached the top. She lay in the middle of the bed, on her side, hair spread across my pillow—fast asleep. Sleeping beauty.

Yeah, fuck, she was beautiful.

Breathtaking.

That she could even entertain the idea that I’d had sex with her for any other reason than I’d wanted her . . . it blew my mind. What did she see when she looked in the mirror? Who had hurt her so bad she didn’t trust her own instincts? Because that’s what it boiled down to. I made it clear how badly I wanted her, hadn’t hidden a damn thing, not as far as my desire for her, yet she still doubted my motives.

You left her. You told her you were done and you stayed away for two fucking months.