Page 13 of Killer Confections (Syndicate Killers #1)

Atlas

This shouldn’t be nearly as fun as it is. I watch the cameras with amusement as Loxley and her friend stare at one another. Both are entirely too frightened to move from the front door and I don’t blame them.

As if flipping a switch, her friend, a woman I recognize as Addison from my intel source, pushes around Loxley. She stomps down the hallway, throwing doors open and yelling threats to ‘fuck up’ whoever may still linger around the apartment.

She’s a brave one. Good call on friends, Short Stack.

My girl looks resigned as she sets the bouquet down on the counter before leaning her ass against it and crossing her arms over her chest as she waits patiently for her friend to finish.

“They’re gone,” Addison huffs, pulling out one of the bar stools and plopping down on it.

“I could have told you that,” Loxley deadpans. “Whoever this is doesn’t want me to see them.”

Her friend swivels back and forth, brows drawn in concern. “You’re taking this much lighter than you should be.”

“I’m terrified,” my girl admits, her gaze straying to the floor as she shakes her head. “But what do I do?”

“You call the police!” Addison shouts, and I scowl at the screen. I quickly remind myself that the loud-mouthed brunette is a close friend, therefore she’s exempt from my wrath—no matter how much I hate the way she speaks to my future wife.

Loxley throws her hands up, giving her friend a sarcastic look. “Yes! Let’s call them, shall we? Should I start with the bouquet of roses left with no forced entry or the clean kitchen with no forced entry?”

Addison’s head whips around to the door, her eyes squinting at the security system before her face crumbles. “Oh, my god, Lox. They have your security code.”

“Yeah, currently trying to work that out in my head without losing my shit.” She responds.

Good girl. She’s catching on.

“I’m going to change the code, then ask Mrs. Olivia if anyone I don’t know has been coming to my apartment,” she decides before moving to the system and following the directions to change her code.

Addison watches her closely, her green eyes full of concern for her friend. “You’re really not calling the police?”

Loxley sighs, locking the system in place before retreating to the far side of the room. She opens a closet, pulling out a pillow and a blanket. “What would I say? There’s no evidence anyone has been here besides clean dishes, Addie. They would laugh at the absurdity of it all.”

“That doesn’t make this any better! Please, Lox. You don’t have to do it tonight, but promise me you will after the grand opening tomorrow? At least file a report.” The brunette begs.

My girl nods, looking tired and wilted. “Sure. Let’s get some sleep.”

Addison seems reluctant to drop the subject, but she doesn’t push further as she takes the blanket and pillow from Loxley. She situates herself on the sofa before the lights are turned out and the apartment settles into a quiet hum.

I wait a few hours for both of them to sleep. I know that after discovering a stalker, slumber won’t find them easy. It isn’t until around three in the morning that Addison’s phone falls from her hands, smacking into her face as she snores loudly, that I decide to make my move.

I pull my balaclava up before heading up the fire exit stairs and peering into the third floor. When the coast is clear, I dismantle the security system before using a lock picking set to open the door silently.

I bypass the woman on the sofa, heading straight for the main bedroom. I press an ear to the door, listening to the sounds as closely as I can. When I hear nothing that may suggest Loxley is awake, I turn the knob and push it open slowly.

The sound of even breathing reaches me and I know she can’t hear me. She sounds like she’s in NREM, which indicates she’s only been asleep for about twenty to thirty minutes. Any sooner and I would have fucked up.

I step into the room, my footfalls so light that hearing a pin drop would be louder.

I move to the bed, standing directly over my girl as she sleeps slightly turned on her stomach, one arm crammed under the pillow and the other beside her face.

Her mouth is slightly ajar, a trail of drool dripping onto the pillow’s casing.

I hold back my snort before cautiously lifting a hand to the outline of her hip under the covers.

I can’t leave without touching her. She’s like a fucking drug and I’m the addict, needing my next fix of her. I haven’t had a hit in years and I’m aching for it.

My fingertips dip, grazing her curves with feather light touches. I picture my gloved hands grabbing at her waist, fingers digging into the supple, pale flesh as I leave bruises everywhere I touch.

I’ve wanted ownership of her for years. I’ve wanted to leave my mark on her body, warning against any others who would dare to think of touching what’s mine.

I move higher, the duvet shifting and I get a glimpse of her cream colored side. I pull my mouth cover down, leaning into her before my lips press gently to the heated flesh. I trail them further along her curves, smiling against her skin when I see goosebumps pebble her arms.

So responsive to my touch even in sleep .

She makes a low sound in her throat, her head moving against the pillow. I give her one last kiss on her rib cage before pulling the covers up her body and tucking her in. I take the note from my pocket, tossing it on the nightstand before I spot Loxley’s phone next to her lamp.

I smirk, grabbing it and typing in my number before leaving.