Page 57 of Death Rydes Shotgun

“Hello?” I say uncertainly, not recognizing the voice on the other end.

“I-is this Harmony?”

“It is.” My eyes glance to Ryder’s, who’s watching me with bored eyes.

“Oh, thank God you haven’t changed your number after all these years. It’s Stacey, Blaire’s mother⁠—”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Middleton. What can I do for you?”

“Have you heard from Blaire? I saw you talking to her at the carnival. You do know what happened there tonight, don’t you?”

“Yes.” I shift my feet back and forth, while chewing on the skin around my finger.

“Well, I haven’t seen her since before…” There’s a brief pause. “...well, since before Marcus Knight was killed. I figured she was held up talking to the police, but once we were all released—I can’t seem to find her.” She chokes out a sob.

A knot forms in my stomach as something insidious ignites in Ryder’s eyes.

I have to swallow a few times before I can respond to Mrs. Middleton’s question. “No, ma’am. I haven’t seen her since we parted ways. Try not to⁠—”

“Don’t you dare tell me not to worry, Harmony. You know what this town brings on Halloween night, and there has already been one murder!” Mrs. Middleton doesn’t hide the sheer terror in her voice.

“Let me make a few calls, and I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay. Yes. That would be great. Thank you, Harmony.”

The line goes dead, but I’m stuck just staring at the phone as if it has caused the disappearance of my once best friend. When I know the one who’s actually responsible is standing right in front of me.

I glare up at him, a murderous expression painting my features.

Ryder simply shrugs. “Now, where were we?”

How the fuck am I supposed to make him believe I want him now?

Digging deep, I take a deep, deliberate breath, I push myself up off the floorboards, standing to my full height in the shadow of the corner. I still hold his tiny folding knife in my right hand. I bring the dull back of the blade up to my collarbone.

With a slow, torturous scrape, I drag the point of the steel down the center of my chest, tracing the swell of my breasts through the fabric of my sweater.

“Is this what you want, Ryder?” I drop my voice into a soft, breathy purr that sounds entirely foreign to my own ears. “If I give in... will this make you stop chasing me?”

Ryder doesn’t move a muscle. He stands like a statue carved from stone, his chest rising and falling in heavy, ragged pulses as he watches the steel trace my skin.

“I’ve already fucked you once tonight, pretty girl, and I’m still chasing you. So, what do you think?” His voice is rough as sandpaper.

He takes a half-step closer, his broad shoulders blocking out what little light filters through the rain-slicked window. “The only way I’ll stop chasing... is if you stop running.”

The words hang heavy between us, dangerous and absolute.

I freeze my movement, the knife coming to a sudden halt right over my sternum.

Ryder tilts his head, his brow furrowing as a dark spark of impatience flashes across his face.

“Why’d you stop?” He crosses his massive arms tightly over his broad chest. “Keep going.”

His eyes burn into mine, possessive, unyielding, and commandingly dark. “I want to watch you pleasure yourself.”

My mouth instantly goes bone-dry.

Reality hits me abruptly, like being drenched with a bucket of cold water.