Page 10 of Death, Interrupted

“Wow, Joey. Really making me work hard tonight. Great job.”

Sliding inside, I was hit with an intense smell immediately. A mix of protein powder dust, stale cologne, and underneath it all, a sharp blast of burnt food. The whole place reeked of a men’s locker room. I nearly gagged in my helmet, shaking my headbecause, of course, this was Joey’s natural habitat.

I moved slowly, letting my boots land softly on the tile, my knife loose in my hand, visor fogging slightly from my own breath. Every sound I made felt louder than it should’ve, and my pulse somehow throbbed louder in my ears than usual.

My heart was thudding way too fast and way too loud, almost like it was trying to break out of my chest. Nerves clawed at me, and for the first time on my killing spree, I had to ask myself if I was actually scared. With the others, it had been effortless. Every strike pumped me full of euphoria, leaving me buzzing and high with pure adrenaline. But now, standing here with Joey somewhere in the house, all I wanted was to turn around, walk back out the door, and pretend this whole thing never happened.

But, no. I had to go through with this, and I needed to make it perfect.

I crouched down low, scanning the space, every muscle tight with anticipation. He was here somewhere. Moving around in the dark like some wannabe badass. Maybe he was upstairs and had now turned on a light, and maybe he was standing in front of the mirror flexing. The thought of him flexing alone in his house made me snort, which I immediately regretted and had to clap a hand over my visor to muffle the sound.

Which didn’t do shit,obviously, since my handnever actually cupped my mouth. It only made another sound I hoped Joey didn’t hear.

I slid further into the living room, listening for any sounds. But there was nothing. No voices, no TV, no music.

I decided then that he had to be upstairs.

Where else would he have gone? I saw no stairs leading down to a basement, and when I came through the back door—which,TMI, I hope one day a woman would let me enter through hers—he wasn’t around either.

I moved up the staircase one step at a time, careful not to put too much weight into my steps, but the damn wood still creaked. My grip on the knife tightened. My palms felt slick inside the gloves from nervous sweat. I forced my breathing to slow, but it didn’t matter. My pulse was hammering, loud enough I swore he could hear it from wherever he was.

At the top, I froze. A glow came from the end of the hall. It was a bright light that drew me closer immediately. He had to be in there. I crept forward, and by the time I reached the doorway, my chest was tight, my visor fogged, and my fingers ached from how hard I was holding the knife.

Being a serial killer wasn’t easy, and I mentally patted myself on the back to encourage me. To keep going and end this once and for all.

You can do this, man.

I could hear movement in the room, and when I leaned in just enough to look inside, I was met with a scene I could only roll my eyes at.

Holy shit…he’s actually standing in front of a mirror, flexing!

What. A. Dick.

And I was right! Ha! Maybe I should try my luck at the lottery.

He stood there with his back to me, shirtless and in tight, white boxer briefs, with his arms raised, biceps thick, shoulders pulled back as he flexed from one angle, then another, like he was some trophy-winning bodybuilder. His chest swelled, veins traced down his forearms. He curled his arms tighter, then spread them wide, admiring himself with a smug half-smile.

I wanted to sneer and gag, but my eyes wouldn’t look away.

Damn, he’s one handsome fella.

I mentally slapped myself hard across the face.

No. No way. I wasn’t doing this. I wasn’t standing here admiring Joey fucking Elrod. He didn’t deserve anything but my utmost disrespect and hate.

But then my brain betrayed me again.Those shoulders are massive. That chest is solid. And his arms—fuck, his arms look like they could snap me in half—

Stop it, my voice hissed in my head.Stop thinking nice things about him. He’s the enemy. He’sdisgusting. You hate him. You’ve always hated him.

And yet…damn.

How am I supposed to take that big fucker down?

I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached, and the sudden realization hit me that I was jealous. But that wasn’t even the craziest part. I wasadmiringhim. So much so that I actually wiped the corner of my mouth with my tongue because I started drooling.

Uh, I mean…not drooling. Definitely not drooling.

I was betraying myself in the worst way possible, and it fucking burned.