Page 83 of Massacre Monday

“And to show you where we can hang out for vacations… If I get one.” His long black lashes drop as his eyes focus on the floor.

It’s difficult to swallow the lump that forms in my throat. I’ve made a big mistake thinking this man is a tyrant of some sort. Attempting toownme or take away my identity.

He’s vulnerable and needs me by his side to protect him as much as he is me.

Like a partner.

It should scare me how much he sees of me. How he’s gathered all the broken, shining, ridiculous pieces of who I am, and held them like they mattered. No one’s ever done that. No one’s ever wanted all of me the way he has.

So instead of getting angry that he brought me here to get me away from whatever danger may be back home, my chest constricts as I walk toward him and let my hands rub his bare arms. He lifts his eyes to mine and that makes me grab his waist and pull him into me in a warm embrace.

“What will they make you do?” I ask.

I want him to talk about it, and I’m ready to listen. I’ve been so focused on whathewould makemedo that I’ve neglected the other part of this story. The one where we both are beholden to an unseen force.

“I’m supposed to be CEO of my father’s company.”

“But you don’t want to be. What? Do you want to be a hockey player?”

Hair falls across his brow as he shakes his head. “No. I’d like to travel around. Maybe be a scout or a team owner. Just not be the same as my dad. I mean, I love him, but it’s not me. It’s especially unfair because my younger brothers would both die for the job. That’s not my assignment, though.”

Heat from his thumb sears my cheek as he strokes it along my skin and peers down at me with such tenderness, my heart melts. “But I’ll do it if you want to stay in one spot.”

I smile with a small shake of my head. “Nope. I want to travel, too. Aside from that, I’m not sure what I want to do. I’ll figure it out when we’re on the road. I go where you go.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t do it. To protect you, I need to do whatever they say.”

My brain struggles to find some solution, but it seems impossible. “I’m starving and can’t think.”

His serious frown turns back into his signature smirk. “We can drive to a restaurant. There’s also food in the RV fridge. I don’t know how to cook, but I’m great at choosing a good place to eat.”

“Come on. I’m making something for you.”

The small kitchen is well stocked, like he wasn’t sure what to buy, so he tried to cram in as much as the little space could hold.

“Eggs, bacon, bread, milk, cheese… You got everything. What do you like?” I ask as he sits at the dining table, drumming his fingers on the surface.

“You.”

I roll my eyes. “What do you like to eat for breakfast?”

Holding his palms up, he waves them dramatically. “You.”

“Besides me. What do you like to eat?”

“You and some bacon would be good. Maybe a Pippi egg sandwich with cheese. And tomato.”

I grimace at the tomato, but something about the way he told me exactly what he wants makes me feel like I’ve grown to know him. As I prep everything, I wave a serrated knife at him while he messes with his phone.

“Why do you think someone is out to get me? Doesn’t it seem like Gwen’s murder was some sort of ritual?”

His black eyebrows grow closer together. “It could be both. I’m not sure… But the fact someone put her face on your door is pretty clear. Not to mention, I discovered some concerning things in Professor Hall’s past.”

She’s the last name I expected to hear. “Professor Hall?”

“Yeah. She doesn’t have much of an online presence, but her father did. He was a professor at NU and a famous photographer. Story per the news is, he committed suicide.”

“Per the news… What’s the actual story?”