Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“Yes.”
“Good,” he says. “That’s good. Because not to scare you, but I think somebody is following us.”
My smile disappears as I turn to face the quiet street. I should have been more aware of my surroundings. There’s always an element of danger being out this late at night. I’m not stupid. I know this. Though the benefits have always outweighed the risks for me.
It takes me a minute to find the person standing in the shadows beneath a fir tree in someone’s front yard. When she sees me watching, she steps forward into the light to show herself. Long blonde hair falls down over her shoulders just how my ex always liked it.
Noah relaxes at the sight of her. He shouldn’t. It’s been guesstimated that one in every hundred people are psychopaths. And some of those are definitely female. Women make up a small percentage of serial killers, but they tend to get away with their murders for longer. They’re also more likely to be motivated by revenge than their male counterparts. Though profit is also a favored reason for womenfolk. Which doesn’t mean there aren’t female thrill killers. They just tend to be a bit of a rarity. I doubt homicide is why she’s here, however. The bitch is just messing with me—which is confirmed when she turns and walks away without saying a word.
Maybe I should use this moment to explain things to Noah. Take a chance and tell him about my past. Though, let’s be honest, my complicated situation and difficult history are hardly going to appeal to someone looking to relax and enjoy life for a while. Ignore my raging hormones. There’s a good chance that friends is as much as we’ll ever be.
“Strange,” says Noah, watching as my stalker walks away.
“Yeah.” I breathe deep and say, “We should head back.”
We’re close to home when a cop car slows down and stops beside us. The way my stomach sinks below street level. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. But this is really not my night. Fuck my life.
“Sidney,” says the man in uniform sitting in the vehicle.
“Officer Smith.”
He scowls at me, and I stare back as blank as can be. Giving nothing has proven to be the best way to handle these encounters over the years.
“Is something wrong?” asks Noah.
“Just checking to make sure you’re okay,” says the officer.
I keep my mouth shut.
“She’s fine,” says Noah.
“Oh, I wasn’t asking about her.” Officer Smith gives me a look of distaste. “We like to keep an eye on the company she keeps. For safety’s sake, you know?”
Noah’s brows draw down in confusion.
Shit.
“He doesn’t know?” A wide smile splits the officer’s face. “Good heavens. You’re taking your life into your own hands here, son.”
“What is he talking about?” Noah asks me.
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Just a whole lot of nothing. I am so cooked.
Officer Smith laughs. “Miss Walsh used to date a convicted felon. A murderer as it so happens. Though they only managed to get him on manslaughter. There are still some who believe she was involved in the disappearance and suspected death of several people. Isn’t that right, Sidney?”
Noah just blinks.
Officer Smith smirks as he drives away. Such an asshole.
I swallow hard. My throat is as dry as can be. “I wasn’t involved. I didn’t know what he was doing.”
Noah just stares at me for a second. And I can feel a sudden distance growing between us. A wariness in his gaze. “I’ll walk you to your door.”
He closes the window and draws the curtains when he goes to bed. And I get the message he’s sending, loud and clear.
CHAPTER THREE
A crashing sound wakes me. I bolt upright in bed at some small, awful hour of the morning. There’s the screech of tires as shouting and laughter comes from the street. My fingers fumble for the phone and taser sitting on the bedside table. It’s been a while since something like this happened. A few months at least. But my brain goes from sleep addled to wide awake in an instant.
The wooden floor is cool against the soles of my feet as I move out of my bedroom, down the stairs, and to the front door. No more noise is coming from outside. Everything is still and silent. As it should be at almost three a.m. on a Sunday. There’s nothing interesting on the security cameras either when I look on my phone. Though I check the front windows, just to be sure. Then I unlock the door to see what’s happened this time.
Lights have turned on in a couple of nearby houses. I don’t know what drunkards and assholes used to do for fun in this town. But harassing me is apparently a guaranteed good time and has been for years. You can’t really blame the neighbors for not liking me.