Page 7

MARISELA

H e really did try. I’d give him that. His steps nearly soundless as he did his best to maintain a conservative distance between us. Even went as far as to control his breathing so I couldn’t hear him huffing when he rushed around the corner to follow me.

Unfortunately for my shadow man, it was his scent that carried in the breeze and gave him away. Cool and minty. Maybe his aftershave? With a hint of smoke and leather that could be attributed to the stupid mask he was hiding behind.

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. How anyone thought they could blend in dressed like something out of one of those black-and-white horror movies my abuelo liked to watch was beyond me.

Then again, I wasn’t interested in what he was wearing or why. Not when I was more focused on the fact this fucker was stalking me .

I was able to get the slip on Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Creepy with a move as generic as dunking under the dumpster and popping up on the other side.

I inched closer on the tips of my shoes, mindful not to kick at the stray gravel rocks separating us.

Dropped my lips to where I thought his ear should be and whispered, “Who we looking for?”

I stepped back just in time to see the way my voice sent a chill down his spine and had him quaking in his—I flicked my eyes to his feet—nine-hundred-dollar Oxfords. Imported leather. Italian, judging by the distinct sheen. My stalker had expensive tastes. Lucky me.

“A little lamb that seems to have strayed from its flock.” I couldn’t see him grin but I could hear it. Almost like the slight curve of his lips somehow softened his tone.

“This lamb of yours, you sure it isn’t just a wolf in sheep’s clothing?” I lifted a challenging brow, waiting for my retort to stick the landing while my fingers danced towards the pocket knife I’d tucked into the back of my pants, my glare plummeting when my hand came up empty.

“Looking for this?”

I peered up to find him pinching the familiar bright-red hilt between his thumb and index finger. And swiped out a hand to grab it at the same time he lifted his arm, dangling the knife just out of my reach.

“Ut-uh, finders keepers, princess,” he hummed before slipping the little blade— my blade —into his coat pocket.

It took me a minute too long to realize he was talking about more than my knife, though, as he lunged forward and quickly pressed me up against the bite of the cold brick wall.

What was that saying? Something like if you went looking for trouble, eventually it’d find you…

This was my version of that. Except there wasn’t the terror you’d expect to come along with it.

Instead, there was a thrill that traveled to the apex of my thighs and settled there.

I’d wanted this after all. Been dangling my virginity on a string hoping some poor fucker would be tempted enough to take a bite.

Put the big black spot on my reputation that would offer me my freedom.

What I didn’t expect was it to happen in a back alley in the part of town where little girls shouldn’t go walking alone , as Papa would tell me. Especially without their pocket knives, as I would tell him .

But I guess beggars couldn’t be choosers.

I just needed this guy to rough me up a bit first, to make it look believable. Which meant I had to find a way to get under his skin. Shouldn’t be hard to do, seeing as he had no problem peering into strangers’ windows in the middle of the night.

I mean, that was how most sexual deviants got their start, wasn’t it?