Page 6 of Only for Him

“Some days, I think about doing it myself.” And she draws a line across her throat.

There’s longing behind her words. It’s sharp and ithungers.I feel the weight of her rage like a brick in my own fucking fist. And my heart thrills at this.

It’s not every day I find someone just like me.

I lean closer, wanting to see her one more time in profile. She is beautiful, yes, but also furious, and I want both in equal measure. I wonder what she’ll look like when she finally screams my name.

My phone hums in my pocket. I slip it out, thumb over the cracked screen and see the text from Rosa:

The girl is safe. He’s all yours.

A dark smile crosses my face.

There will be another time for Detective Cantiano.

But for now, there’s work to be done.

3

GISELLE

I climbthe stoop stairs two at a time, keys gripped between my knuckles. The walkup is old. Five floors of chipped banisters and a carpet that’s seen a thousand footprints more desperate than mine. It’s less than I can afford, and more than I deserve.

Even from outside, I can smell the cacophony of scents from every floor. Burned rice on one, sweat and baby powder on the next. The tell-tale scent of skunk weed on the next. My ankles are raw from the straps of my low heels, and each step towards the front door is worse than the last.

I fumble the lock, the world swimming a little from the long night and the memories I’ve tried not to let ferment.

Then, it happens again.

The sense of being watched blooms in my sternum, hard and insistent like fingers wrapping around my throat.

Adrenaline spikes through my body and chases away what little alcohol remaining in my system.

I twist around, hand reaching for my gun.

Nothing.

Just the sigh of the city at night and a roach zigzagging toward a crack in the sidewalk.

Instead of my gun, I grab an earring and twist.

Flash.

A bright light explodes across the darkness. So bright and fast that it leaves me half-blind. My gun rises by instinct and I spin, barrel forward, to search the block for the source of the light.

Wait… no it’s not.A shadow moves, and I get a peek of a now-familiar pair of blue eyes before the hulking shape of a massive man seems to melt into the shadows. Somehow they’ve burned themselves into my mind since I last saw them at the gala.

And in that instant, I know two things:

One, he followed me home.

Two, he knows where I live.

My breath catches in my throat, my heart drumming a confused and erratic song.

I should call it in, if only to establish a paper trail early. Russo will take me seriously. He knows I’m not in the habit of calling wolf. If anything, I have a reputation for the opposite.

But I don’t call it in. I wait as my heartbeat slowly returns to normal, and keep waiting—partly to see what happens next, and partlyhopingthat I might see those blue eyes again.