Trying to calm my nerves, I blow out a breath, and look up at the plain brick building.
Today was my first time coming to Lee’s apartment, and even though that was only a handful of hours ago, standing here with the night sky surrounding the building, it feels like a lifetime has passed.
I thought it was a little strange that Lee didn’t offer to pick me up, like he has before. But knowing what I know now, plus the weird vibes I was getting from him when I got here, it all makes sense.
Because this is his fuck pad.
“Jerk,” I huff under my breath as I approach the front door.
After the disaster earlier, I decided to spend the entire evening lounging with Mandi. We ordered take out––since my meal, pan and all, went into the garbage––and shared embarrassing stories, trying to make today feel like less of a catastrophe. She did offer me wine, but since she can’t drink with her pain medication, I opted to abstain out of solidarity. Though, I’m heartily regretting that now.
Mandi kept apologizing, but there was nothing for her to apologize for. It’s not like any of us planned for today to happen like it did. And even if it was at my expense, at least Lee got caught for being a cheater. It’s never going to be fun when that sort of shit happens, but it’s better for Aspen to know. And at least she had her brother with as support.
Obviously, I asked about the brother as soon as we heard the back door slam shut after they left.
King. What a perfect name for that man. It fits his royal bearing faultlessly.
It took a moment after they left for me to realize why they went out the back, because they’d parked in the driveway. And honestly, thank god they did. I don’t even want to think about what sort of weirdness would’ve happened if we’d pulled up and Lee saw his wife’s car, or his brother-in-law’s car… How would he have explained not wanting to go in? Would he have just shoved me out the door and ghosted me? Or would he have just kept on driving, without letting me get out? Which would’ve been terrifying. I’d have thought I was being kidnapped.
I shove that freaky thought away and let out another large exhale.
There’s absolutely no reason to think about any of them ever again. As soon as I get my keys back, Lee is dead to me. Aspen looked like she’d probably try to strangle me if she ever sees me again, and King is so far out of my league I might as well forget he even exists.
I mean, sure, he was looking at me with something akin to interest, but that was probably just curiosity because he thinks I’m sleeping with his sister’s husband. But even without that, men that look like literal kings don’t often go for the awkward, chubby girls, with paint-stained fingertips, who drive minivans.
Speaking of… I glance down the street at my pretty blue van and groan.
It wasn’t until my Uber ride over here that I realized I didn’t have my keys in my purse. And since I obviously had them to get here, they must be inside Lee’s apartment. I wasn’t in there long, but I remember my little purse tipping over on his counter while I was preoccupied trying not to drop the lasagna––oh the irony––so they must’ve fallen out then.
If it was just my car key fob, I’d abandon it. I have a spare at home, and it would be worth the cost to replace it, and another Uber ride, just to avoid ever seeing that lying scheming…liar, ever again.
I really need to work on my insult game.
But it’s not just a single key, it’s my keychain with everything––my house key, storage locker, PO Box––so I can’t just walk away.
I’m working up the courage to call Lee and ask him to buzz me in, when a group of teens come bouncing out the front door.
Pretending to dig through my purse, I keep my head down as I pick up my pace, catching the door just before it closes.
That was handy.
The door clicks shut behind me, blocking out the sounds of the city, but there’s still the low buzz of being in a fully occupied building on a weekend evening.
My memory is pretty crappy with directions, but I still have his text telling me his apartment number.
And again, I’m reminded of what a lying bastard he is.
Lee was always so polished, so expensive. The nice clothes, the luxury car, the watch… And it made this place feel off, because it didn’t fit his style.
Now I have to wonder if he stocked the place for appearance’s sake, or if the cupboards and closets are empty. If I’d have gone further into his apartment, would I have noticed there was something missing.
I try to calm down, slowing my steps, and remind myself that I have nothing to stress about. I’m just here to get my keys. I won’t even step foot across the threshold.
His apartment is halfway down the hall, and I pause in front of his door, hand raised and ready to knock.
Maybe I should text him.
I lower my hand.
Is that dumb? What if he’s not even here?
I think about it for a long second then raise my fist again and step closer. He can ignore a text, but he can’t ignore me banging on his door.
My arm is moving forward, ready to knock, when a muffled voice stops me.
Was that Lee?
My hand drops again.
Did he see me through the peephole?
Except the door doesn’t open.
Oh my god, this is ridiculous!
I raise my hand again, set on knocking for real, when a deeper voice cuts through the door.
“…bought this under your own name, you stupid piece of shit.”
I freeze.
“No! Don’––t” Lee starts.
But whatever he was about to say, gets cut off with a pop.
Adrenaline fires in my veins. My fight or flight triggered by a sound I don’t understand, but that I instinctively know is bad.
I lower my now trembling hand as a thud sounds from the other side of the door.
My feet walk me backward, away from Lee’s apartment. Away from dark energy swirling behind that door.
He just fell. Everything is fine.
I’m sure it’s fine.
My butt bumps into the wall, startling me. And the “oops” is out of my mouth before I can stop it. A stupid lifetime reaction to always feeling in the way or out of place.
I press my lips together, but it’s too late. Because the door directly in front of me swings open.
My eyes land on the chest that’s at my eye level, and my gaze drops to the scene on the floor inside the apartment.
Feet. Legs. The torso twisted to the side. The face turned toward me. Looking right at me. With open, unseeing eyes. The dark circle in the middle of Lee’s forehead. The slowly growing pool of angry dark blood beneath him.
Fear, like I’ve never known before, floods my body.
He’s dead.
I’m looking at a dead person.
“You.” A somewhat familiar voice snaps my attention back up to the man in the doorway.
To the killer.
To King.
He opens his mouth, but I don’t wait to hear what he has to say. I turn and I run.
“Fuck!” King’s snapped word makes me pump my legs faster.
I just saw a dead man!
My stupid little flats slap against the industrial carpet with quiet thwacks.
I’ve never seen a dead body before!
A door slams shut somewhere behind me. Lee’s apartment?
Maybe King went back in to…I gag through my ragged breathing…clean up the murder scene.
I pass another apartment door hiding another oblivious resident, and that’s when I realize I ran the wrong way. Not toward the front, where people are coming and going. No, I’m running away from it.
A sob wraps around my throat as tears spill down my cheeks.
I can’t turn around. I can’t chance passing Lee’s apartment again.
Ahead of me, at the end of the hall, is a thick metal door that says exit above it, but I don’t know where it leads. It has to be the side of the building, but I don’t remember where that is.
Just get out.
Maybe he’s not following you yet.
Needing to know, I crane my neck around to look behind me. And the sob already building in my throat turns into a scream.
Because King is right there. Already caught up to me. His blazing eyes inches from mine.
My lungs strain, and the moment they compress to release my scream, a huge palm closes over my mouth.
The contact is enough to make me finally lose my footing, even before King’s large body crashes into my back.
The impact knocks the scream out of my chest and has me flying forward.
Not wanting to see the ground coming, I squeeze my eyes shut, and stretch my arms in front of me to brace my fall.
And then I feel…a muscular arm wrap around my waist.
My eyes pop back open.
My feet dangle above the floor as the arm around my middle supports my weight.
We hardly even slow down.
The hand over my mouth is still pressing down, making it hard to breathe.
I’m not a runner. And fright mixed with sprinting is enough to put me near hyperventilation and sucking in breaths through my nose isn’t cutting it.
King jostles me, his arm loosening just a touch as he sort of bounces me, like he’s trying to boost me higher.
His arm tightens again as he grunts, “Heavy.”
This bastard.
Still terrified, his shitty comment is enough to spur me out of this frozen state.
I claw at the hand over my mouth. My filed short nails barely even scratching his skin.
“Knock that off.” He gives me a little shake. “I like ‘em heavy.”
He’s kidnapping me. Kidnapping me, probably to kill me, but it almost sounds like he’s smirking.
And like ‘em heavy. What does that mean? Is he going to silence of the lambs me?
The arm surrounding me does that loosen-jostle thing again. “Legs up, Honey.”
Out of reflex, I comply, lifting my legs with my dwindling strength.
King slows for one stride, and I blink at the sight ahead of me a second before my feet depress the bar across the center of the thick metal door, releasing the lock, and letting King walk us straight outside.
Did I just help kidnap myself!?
The light above the exterior door is yellow and dim, and King strides us out of the illuminated half circle in two strides, the thick summer air swallowing us with every step.
I can hear traffic behind us as King walks us down the side street.
Toward the dark.
This can’t be happening.
This really can’t be happening.
I start to thrash. Panic making me flail wildly, trying to make noise but it’s my lungs that are screaming now.
Please ancestors, if you get me through this, I promise to work on my cardio.
King turns off the sidewalk and jogs, taking us across the street, straight for a large blacked out SUV.
Doubling my efforts, I kick my legs harder. My feet grazing his shins, but never connecting like I want them to.
Until one does.
An angry groan follows my hit, and our movement suddenly stops.
King bends at the waist, putting me face down over the concrete.
I attempt a shriek, but he doesn’t let go. If anything, his hold tightens, making it easier for me to feel his agonized moan as it travels from his chest, into my back, and down through every inch of my body.
“Savannah,” he growls my name, his breath against my neck, shooting tingles down my spine.
What the hell, body?
King straightens and staggers two steps until I’m sandwiched between him and the back of the black SUV. Putting even more of him against even more of me.
He’s still making pained sounds, and I think I must’ve gotten him in the nuts with one of my kicks.
Half of me cheers but the half that was raised to always be exceedingly polite, feels guilty. Which makes the first half of my brain remind the second half that he just killed someone and politeness is the least of my worries.
King’s forearm is shoved up against the underside of my boobs, pushing them up higher, and his weight on my back squishes them into the hard surface.
“Ow!” My cry is muffled against his suffocating palm.
“Look,” he grits out, shifting his weight pressing his temple against my ear. “You can keep struggling, I can duct tape your hands and feet and mouth, shove you into the back of my Suburban, and shoot anyone that comes across us during the process. Or you can be a good little girl and sit in the front seat and no one has to die.” He pauses. “Well, no one else.”
He says it like it’s nothing.
Like killing his brother-in-law is nothing.
“I’m gonna move my hand, and if you feel the urge to scream, remember the gun tucked into the back of my pants. Remember that anyone I kill will be on your hands. And if it goes loud, I’ll need to leave quickly. Which means a bullet in your head too.”
His casual tone makes it all so much worse, causing tears to stream down my cheeks.
He flexes his fingers. “Are we on the same page, Honey?”
I nod as best I can, and he finally drops his hand from my mouth.
I don’t scream.
I can’t be responsible for someone dying. So, I just hang there, in his grip, gasping for air.
“Same goes for running.” The arm around my waist slackens as he lowers me until my toes touch the ground again.
Pebbles shift under my thin shoes and my knees sway.
I’m scared. Terrified. Yet l I still can’t help but think how impressive it is that he carried me all this way. With one arm.
He slowly pulls that arm away from me and I steady myself against the vehicle, trying to catch my breath, hoping to come up with some amazing plan.
But then he nudges me.
“Let’s go.” King isn’t even winded, apparently that heavy breathing from a second ago was just from pain.
With no amazing plan coming to mind, I let him guide me to the passenger door.
He keeps one big palm on my back as he opens the door with the other.
I don’t think for one second about the way my shorts are riding up my ass, or how climbing into this monstrous vehicle will put my butt right in his face, because I’m too busy remembering every episode of 20/20 that reminds you to never get into the car with a stranger.
“Put your seatbelt on.”
I blink at him, but tears are still blurring my vision.
Have I been crying this whole time?
“Put your seatbelt on,” King demands again as his shoulders fill the open door frame.
Even if someone were to walk by right now, they wouldn’t even see me.
And if they did…
I can’t let someone die for me.
My hands are shaking so bad it takes me two tries to even grab the seatbelt.
My kidnapper sighs. “I’ll do it.”
Before I can stop him, King plucks the belt from my grip.
With one hand still on the doorframe, he leans into the vehicle, twisting his body and putting us chest to chest, as he reaches to click in my seatbelt.
Those wild golden eyes, that I thought I’d never see again, are so close. The small amounts of light from the streetlamps overhead reflect off his irises, and I don’t know if it’s more or less scary that I still find him so attractive.
“Stay,” King whispers, then he’s gone. The door slamming shut in his wake.
My chest expands. My subconscious mind having held its breath with him so close.
What feels like one second later, King is sliding into the driver’s seat next to me. And a feeling of guilt swamps over me. I didn’t even try to run.
He tosses something over his shoulder, and my eyes follow the motion, feeling a little stupefied at the sight of my purse.
When did I drop that?
When did he pick it up?
Of course, he couldn’t leave it sitting in the hallway. Can’t have any evidence that I was there. Except for my car keys sitting somewhere inside that apartment.
And of course he threw the purse too far back for me to reach.
I don’t have a single thing in there that could be used as a weapon, but I do have a phone ––which is great for calling the police right about now.
The engine roars to life, and I leave my dead, not-quite-boyfriend’s apartment with his killer.
