Page 27

“HOLY SHIT!”

It was the complex where I’d been staying. The profile of the buildings was unmistakable. No less than four police cars were parked out front, lights flashing, yellow tape strung around a central vehicle. The tape had Greek letters printed all over it, instead of the word CAUTION.

I watched the words flash across the bottom of the screen in English. They lagged a few seconds behind the story, but they were undeniable:

— THE TWO MEN WERE FOUND DEAD IN A CAR OUTSIDE THISEIO, WITH NO APPARENT WOUNDS OR MARKINGS. POLICE ARE INVESTIGATING. FOUL PLAY HAS NOT YET BEEN RULED—

I turned, open-mouthed, to look at Randall. “That’s my place!”

He stood there casually, still munching loudly on his cereal.

“Oh my God, they were watching my place!” I gasped. “Just like you and Holden said…”

He wasn’t even looking at the television. He was looking at his cereal, which was topped with a messy crumble of the chocolate wafer cookies I’d picked up at his request.

“Forget what I said about American cookies,” he said, pointing down with his spoon. “These things you bought here, in the red and gold foil packaging…”

“D—Did you…”

I nodded toward the screen. The newscast has already moved on to another story.

He ignored me. Wiped some milk from his beard.

“Randall!” I said sharply. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

His eventual shrug was almost imperceptible. He was still shoveling milk and cereal and cookie into his mouth. Crunching down louder than ever.

“Anything to do with what?” he mumbled, before turning to walk away.

Fifteen

ANDREA

The shampoo felt good as I massaged it into my hair. Real shampoo. The same kind I’d found my first week here, that left my hair shiny and full and—

“Move over, cupcake.”

My eyes flew open. They stung almost immediately with soap.

“Randall! What the hell are you doing?”

“Showering.”

It occurred to me we’d had this conversation before. Only this time he was under my shower stream. Half blind, rubbing my eyes, I could feel his hard, wet body slipping against mine.

“But—”

“The other shower’s broken now,” he said, pointing. “Look. Head’s missing.”

I looked. The shower head was missing.

“More like you probably unscrewed it,” I said accusingly.

He shrugged as he soaped up. “Six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

My vision returned and there he was, all soap and muscle and colorful tattoos. Both arms were sleeved shoulder to wrist, as well as the back of his left hand. I saw skulls, birds, dragons, flowers. A big anchor, inked into his ribcage. Further down near the curve his hip, a three-masted sailing ship crashed over white-capped waves against a bright blue sky.

His tattoos were hot, but I was more interested in the rest of him. Every inch of Randall’s body was cut with long, striated muscle. Hell, even his muscles had muscles. And he had that sexy ‘V’ down at his lower abdomen, too. The kind that pointed downward on either side of his pelvis…