Page 8 of Under Your Scars

He lets out an amused huff and I think if he didn’t have that mask covering his face, I’d see a sinister smile painted across his lips. “Well, you’re no fun at all, angel.”

My throat goes dry, and I lean away from him again. Panic rises in my chest. He reaches for my hand, and I snatch it away. Our eyes meet and the tension between us cracks. He pounces on me and when he pins me down to the bed, my chest heaves and I whimper in fear, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. He’s too big. Too strong. I struggle and struggle to no avail and finally, I give up, going slack under the fiery intensity of his stare.

Tears slide down the sides of my face, disappearing into my hairline.

“Are you scared?”

I start nodding before he finishes his question. I see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he lets out a low chuckle. “I promise, I’m the one thing in this city you never have to be afraid of.” He cocks his head to the side. “Why’d you try to take off my mask?”

All I do in response is bite my lip in an attempt to get it to stop quivering. I search through my brain for every possible lie I can come up with. Telling a serial killer that I was planning on turning him in for money seems like a quick way to end up with a bullet in my skull.

“I wanted to see the face of the man who saved me,” I say cautiously.

He gives me a dangerous glare and goes completely still. I gulp, because I can just see it in the tension of his shoulders that I’ve crossed a line I shouldn’t have touched with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole.

“You’ve got it backwards, angel.”

Before I have a chance to ask him what he means, he lets go of me and leaves my apartment so fast I’m not sure he’s even human.

CHAPTER 3

THE ANGEL

Sunday passes in a blur. I spent the entire day trying to get the blood off my floors, to no avail. My apartment looks like a crime scene, and I’m honestly pretty upset about it.

When I get to work on Monday morning, I head straight for the coffee pot. Reeves Enterprises spares no expense when it comes to coffee. In our department break room, there are so many options for creamer and sugar and syrups that for my first two months working here, I tried a different combination every morning. I’m a sucker for the hazelnut creamer though, and I can’t afford my own at home, so I always savor it here.

I wonder if anyone would notice if I took off with the container.

There’s also a Starbucks in the downstairs lobby, and each employee at the R.E. headquarters gets credit for one free drink per month, but Neil always steals it.

Yes, hestealsit. Will swipe it right off my desk. Doesn’t matter what’s in the cup, he steals my coffee because he lives off my misery.

I’m not a violent person, but I’d pay good money to have someone knock out his front teeth or hit him in his bald head.

Neil Hayden is Reeves Enterprises’ best attorney. He’s so good that at Meridian Law School, there’s literally an entire module in our 2L curriculum dedicated to him and his legendary representation. His previous employer got busted for using illegal child labor, and Neil managed to get them out of it without so much as a fine. Charges dropped; civil case dismissed.With prejudice. The man is legendary, and he knows it, which is probably why he’s so damn awful. He could slit my throat and watch me bleed out all over the marble floors and nobody would bat an eye.

I’m not even surewhyhe hates me. I’m not totally incompetent when it comes to my duties here. My best guess is it’s because I’m not fun to look at. I’ve got as much curve as a two by four, and the sex appeal of a plastic bag.

With my hot mug of hazelnut creamer with a splash of coffee in hand, I walk to my desk, and I nearly drop the mug when I get there.

A large bouquet of flowers is sitting on my desk. Scratch that—a fuckingmassivebouquet of flowers is sitting on my desk. Bright, beautiful peonies, roses, gardenias, and baby’s breath in varying shades of purple and white are neatly arranged in a heavy marble vase.

I blink in shock and I’m not sure what to think. There’s a light purple notecard sitting upright against the vase. I hesitantly open the envelope and inside is a card with messy, yet perfectly legible handwriting scribbled across it, almost like it was written with a non-dominant hand.

For my angel.

I throw the card haphazardly in my bag and push the heavy bouquet to the corner of my desk to try and get it out of the way as I power on my computer.

Okay,Elena.Breathe.Don’t panic.

I tap my fingers against the desk and stare at those flowers while I wait for my computer to boot up. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or terrified that the Silencer sent these to me. There’s no business card indicating he hired a service to deliver them. Besides, he’d have to put in contact information and his whole thing is remaining anonymous.

He must have brought these himself, which is an even more unsettling thought because I know there are at least a dozen cameras in the lobby.

How the hell did he get in here?

I don’t have much time to consider it, because before my computer even fully boots up, I hear Neil shouting my name.