Page 48 of When I Accidentally Snagged a Serial Killer

Mom steps inside with the milk and cigarettes. She makes it two steps before she sees the landlord on the floor. Then she sees me, and her eyes lock onto my torn shirt. The gallon slips and hits the floor with a heavy thump, bursting open. Great.

Her lips pull back in a half-snarl. “What did that son of a bitch do to you?”

“Mom—”

She storms across the room, grabs my shoulders, and frantically looks me over. Her skin has gone pale beneath the fury. “Did he fucking touch you?”

“I’m okay. Gage got here before⁠—”

Mom whirls toward Tyson. “Oh, hell no.”

She lunges. Gage stops her before she can introduce the heel of her boot to our landlord. “Ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am. Let me—” Mom twists in his grip, finally gets a proper look at him, and freezes. Her eyes widen. The shock registers all over her. “Wait a fucking minute.”

Gage shifts his weight, suddenly far less comfortable restraining my mother than he did knocking out a grown man.

“Why the hell is Gage fucking Cannon in our apartment?”

“Wait. How do you know who Gage is?”

Mom’s features twist—like I’ve asked how she knows who Taylor Swift is. “Are you kidding? I subscribe to his channel. I’m a top fan.”

“Shiiiit.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. Of course she is. Mom has exactly four reliable addictions: cigarettes, alcohol, sweets, and cat videos.

“Your Christmas pastry series was excellent,” she tells Gage. “The picture of the kitties in their little Christmas outfits with their identity pastries? Adorable.”

His chest puffs slightly. “Thank you.”

“Perfect,” I groan. “My mom is fangirling in our living room.”

She blows fume through her nostrils. “Why is my favorite internet pastry chef holding me in a headlock?”

“It’s not a headlock.” Gage releases her but stays close enough if she makes another run at Tyson.

“And why are you here?”

There’s absolutely no dignified way to do this with our landlord unconscious on the carpet. “Mom, Gage is my boyfriend.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh.” She focuses on Tyson again, glaring cruelly. “That motherfucker promised me.”

All my amusement dies. “What?”

Mom points toward him—with her middle finger. “He wasn’t supposed to touch you. That was the deal.”

My chest caves in. “What deal?” I say more quietly now. “Mom. What fucking deal?”

CHAPTER 14

Gage

“What fucking deal?”

Jubilee’s voice is quiet now, all humor gone.

Her mother doesn’t answer. Her focus sinks to the carpet and stays there. This isn’t my conversation. Every instinct I possess wants to cross the room and hold Jubilee until she stops shaking. Instead, I lean against the wall—close enough if she needs me, far enough so I’m not intruding.

Jubilee hasn’t said much about her mother. Only that her name is Anne. Anne moves toward the couch now, catching the armrest on the way down. “Sit down, Juju Bean.”