Page 27 of Killer Attraction

I paced around my living room the best I could until I was too tired to stay on my feet—which, in my condition, didn’t take long at all. But the movement, the pattern of my steps, helped me to think.

The first thing I should have done was call it in. To report I knew who the killer was and I was injured. Instead, I did nothing except ignore Victoria’s calls. Eventually, she would get tired of me ignoring her and show up, but until then, I needed to figure out what I was going to do.

But four days later, I was no closer to deciding anything. Although, at this point, it seemed like I couldn’t report anything. Not without some suspicion cast on me. I’d called out of work the last two days with the flu, not because I had a serial killer boyfriend.

Ironically, it wasn’t a complete lie. I’d barely been able to function since I’d woken the morning after my living nightmare. Things like washing up, changing my clothes, or even changing my bandages seemed too big and incomprehensible. So I ignored them. Hell, I barely ate or drank anything in the days that followed.

Not to mention, because of my inability to take my head out of the sand and confront what had happened, it also meant that I hadn’t even looked at what Nate had done to me. Which meant I hadn’t cleaned the wound, either. And I was pretty sure it was infected, if the fever and chills were any indication.

I was so screwed.

The flu excuse, as predicted, only got me so far with Victoria.

“I swear, V, I’ll be fine,” I muttered as I pulled another blanket over me on the couch. My refusal to go back to bed had nothing to do with Nate or the memories there. It was just easier with the wound on my side to sit on the couch rather than lie in bed, or at least that was what I told myself.

“Maybe I should come over and take you to the doctor or at least one of the urgent care clinics.” Her worry was appreciated, but I couldn’t let her bully me into that. I couldn’t explain to a doctor what had happened to me.

“I already told you, it’s the flu. There’s nothing they can do. I have some cold and flu medicine I’ve been taking, and it’s helping a bit.” That wasn’t a complete lie. I did have the medicine, not that I had actually taken any of it.

The lies were getting to me. I wanted to tell her so badly, so why didn’t I? Why was I still protecting him?

Not to mention, why didn’t he kill me? I was a loose end, a witness to his crimes. Instead, he stitched me up and put me in my bed, making sure I had a bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of unopened water on my nightstand for when I woke. He could have come back at any time to finish the job, but he didn’t.

What if he ran?

The thought made my blood turn cold. Did he leave?

Of course, he did. He’d be stupid not to have fled as he would have had no reason to believe I didn’t report him the moment I woke up.

Because it was what I should have done.

“Aiden? Are you listening to me?”

Shit, I’d spaced out and forgot I’d been on the phone.

“Sorry, Vic. What did you say?” I grimaced at how much of a bad friend and partner I was. But I couldn’t worry about that when I had more pressing matters to attend to.

Just as she started to repeat herself, there was a knock on the front door.

“Sorry, V, someone’s here. I’ll have to call you back.” I hung up and winced as I pulled myself off the couch. But I didn’t leave behind the large blanket I had wrapped around my shoulders. Instead, I pulled it tighter as I yanked the door open without even bothering to look to see who it was.

When I saw him standing there, my vision swam, and I had to grab a hold of the doorframe to keep upright.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

NATHAN

I agonized over what to do, even going as far as changing my mind at least a half-dozen times. It was so unlike me. Normally I didn’t care about such things—about people. When I made my mind up about something, that was it. I didn’t care enough to change my mind.

But when it came to Aiden, he mattered.

I waffled between the urge to run and find somewhere new to settle so that I could maintain my freedom and the desire to make sure he was alright. Of course, I didn’t think it would be four days later, and I still wouldn’t have heard from him—or, more likely, the police.

To be honest, I’d been pretty certain that within twenty-four hours, the SWAT team would have been breaking down my door, and a big man with a gun in my face would have been begging me to give him a reason to shoot. But none of that happened.

In fact, it was as though none of it happened. The radio silence from Aiden was the only clue to the reality of the events from that night.