Page 71 of Stealing His Cupcake (Stockholm Syndrome for the Win #2)
The drive only takes a few hours. Amy directs me to the suburbs of a tiny town with the poetic name Bluebell Springs.
Not to Kayla’s house, she explains, but to her boyfriend’s house.
Apparently, she also moved in with her partner shortly after meeting him.
I sense there’s a deeper story to that since Amy always grins whenever the topic of Kayla’s boyfriend comes up, but she never gives me any details, always teasing me with cryptic remarks and claiming I will absolutely love Ethan Bennett.
Which is weird as fuck, but I’ve learned not to press on her.
Pulling up to the curb of a spacious, two-story house, I check my reflection in the rearview mirror. I don’t give a fuck what Kayla or her boyfriend think of me, but I know Amy wants me to make a good impression, and whatever Amy wants, Amy will get.
The front door opens before we even get to it, and a squealing creature lunges herself at Amy.
Recognizing the waterfall of black curls, I don’t react, even though my first instinct is to put myself between Amy and any danger.
After embracing for a long minute while I stand awkwardly by, Kayla finally releases Amy.
“Wyatt,” she greets me coldly, accompanying it by a haughty scowl.
“Kayla,” I reply in a similar manner, though without the scowl.
Amy would murder me if I scowled at her best friend, so I do my best to keep my expression neutral since I sure as hell can’t muster a smile right now.
I’d much rather be anywhere else but here, especially as it looks like Kayla will have one of her “chats” with me later.
As if the many online and phone ones we’ve already had weren’t enough.
I love that Amy has someone who cares for her this deeply but dammit, this woman is obnoxious.
Amy elbows my side. “Be nice,” she says.
“I’m always nice, cupcake.”
“Uh-huh, sure. Wyatt, this is Ethan Bennett. Ethan, this is my husband, Wyatt,” Amy introduces me to a tall man who has been waiting in the doorway.
Grasping his offered hand, I raise my eyes to his, my body tensing up at the very familiar coldness buried in them.
Fuck. Kayla’s living with a killer and I just brought my Amy right to him.
Wait. Kayla is living with a killer? What the actual fuck is going on here?
Is this a trap? I move to grab my gun before realizing that I couldn’t bring my gun because we took the fucking plane. What now?
My racing thoughts are interrupted by a burst of laughter from Amy and a rather disgruntled grumble from Kayla. “I told you he could tell,” Amy says, still grinning widely. “You owe me ten bucks, Kay.”
Kayla smacks Ethan’s shoulder. “What the fuck, Ethan? I told you to act normal.”
Snorting, Ethan releases my hand. Damn, I haven’t even realized I was still holding it. “This is me acting normal, bunny. The devil knows its own, right?” he asks, smirking at me. “Let’s go inside.”
I pull Amy against my side. “You knew about this?” I whisper into her ear, not eager to join Ethan and Kayla inside.
“Of course. Who do you think helped me find you? Don’t worry, Ethan is good people.”
“He’s a killer,” I protest, then concede the point when Amy quirks her brow. “Yeah, I know, I know. Wait. He was the one who killed Craig, wasn’t he?”
It makes so much sense now. Ethan was obsessed with Kayla and Kayla was staying with Amy. Craig was a danger to both of them, so Ethan took him out to protect his girl. “Fuck. Do you know how long I spent trying to figure out Craig’s murder? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Giggling, Amy rises to her tiptoes to peck my cheek. “Because I made a bet with Kayla on whether you could tell, obviously. Come on. Ethan’s making dinner.”
“Great.” Not sure if I’ll be able to eat anything another killer cooked, I follow Amy inside the house when my phone chimes with an incoming message.
Unknown
Time to pay your debt. Bring guns. S .
Slava. I sigh. I’ve been wondering when I’d hear from her about this imaginary debt I’ve apparently incurred while unconscious. On the other hand, it’s the perfect opportunity to cut this weekend short.
Amy frowns. “Trouble?”
“Our friend called in her favor. I’ll have to go. I don’t suppose I could borrow a gun?” I ask Ethan, since we’re apparently all cool here with being killers and all that. I can’t say that’s ever happened before.
Putting a large baking tray on the table, Ethan shrugs off a pair of oven mitts. “Sure. Need backup?”
What the actual fuck? What are we, best buddies now? Before I can vehemently protest, Amy is already agreeing. “That would be so sweet! Look at them,” she croons at Kayla. “Bonding already.”
“That is absolutely not what’s happening,” I say.
Ethan agrees. “Yeah, absolutely. But Amy would be sad if you died, and if she was sad, Kayla would be sad too, and I can’t let that happen, so I’m coming along.”
Both women squeal. “Yay, road trip! This will be so much fun.”
I exchange confused glances with Ethan. “You’re not coming,” he tells the women.
Kayla doesn’t blink an eye. “Of course we are. We’ll have a spa day or something while you deal with the icky murder stuff, and then we can do some sightseeing.”
“Exactly!” Amy chimes in. “It will be so much fun.”
Another exchanged glance with Ethan, this time a little desperate. It seems that neither of us knows what’s really happening, but one thing is for sure. Neither of us can say no to our women, which means we’re bringing this weird family on a murder trip. Talk about strange things happening.