Page 7 of Caught in His Sights
His lips curve into a smirk, and the nose of his gun dips. “You sound very sure of yourself.”
“Because I am.” I take my research and my obsessions seriously.
“But your last article got it wrong.” Caleb’s tone turns accusing. “The one about the casino.”
Is he mad about being misnamed, even though it was his intention?
“I notified my editor of the error, but it wasn’t my call.” My fingers twitch at my sides before I force them to still. “You get more clicks than Damien. Or so my publisher says.”
This seems to please Caleb, who takes a step closer to me, his intense dark eyes studying my face.
One wrong move could be my last, so I hold my breath, not wanting this encounter to end too soon.
The smile slips from Caleb’s lips, and the gun lifts once more. “Do you know why I’m here?”
I nod toward the weapon. “Based on the all-black outfit and firearm, I’d say you came to kill me.”
My mind races, curiosity where fear should be. “So, what’s Damien up to right now while pretending to be you? What will your alibi be for tonight? Another trip to the casino with the blond? Win a fortune or lose a fortune at the roulette table? Anything to be sensational and keep people looking in the wrong direction.”
It’s a theory I’ve toyed with since I first noticed the twins swapping places, with headlines landing the next day about fatal accidents for corrupt people in power.
One shoulder lifts. “Not that anyone would ever connect a billionaire playboy to my murder. I doubt you let yourself be caught on video coming into the building.”
The security cameras at the back are all broken, anyway.
“You’re smart.” A smirk plays on his lips. “Cute, too.”
A tremble goes through me.
He steps closer, his nostrils flaring as he inhales. “And you smell nice, which is surprising in this shitty apartment complex.”
I study the narrowing distance between us. “Soap and showers still work, even in squalor.”
He chuckles, the sound even better in person than the fake laughs from his interviews.
His head cocks to the side, curiosity lighting his eyes. “You don’t seem afraid.”
“I’ve been expecting to die one way or another for a while now.” I take in the blankets that cover the walls, hiding water damage and stained paint. “Which article got me put on the Rockford’s elimination list, anyway? I’m not the only gossip columnist talking trash about your family.”
“The story you wrote about the Sunrise Apartments being knocked down. The Rockfords are trying to improve the neighborhood, and you made a lot of accusations that shone us in a bad light.” He bites his bottom lip as his gaze sweeps over me. “It’s a pity.”
The absurdity of the situation drags a laugh from me. It’s the only serious piece I’ve written that Lily approved for print, and only because it had the Rockfords attached to it. Of course, the article centered on the site of my brother’s disappearance would be the one to put me in Caleb’s sights.
He smiles like he’s in on the joke. “That amuses you?”
“I have dark humor,” I say, bitterness sour on my tongue.
“So do I.” Caleb’s eyes never leave mine. “Are you going to beg for your life, Oliver?”
The sound of my name on his lips, said in a low, dangerous tone, sends a shiver of pleasure through me. “Would you like that?”
He leans in, the gun still pointed at me. “It’s part of the fun.”
A numbing sense of calm sweeps over me, and I step closer to him. “No, I’m not going to beg. There are better ways to spend my last words.”
“Oh?” He stays still as I approach. “Like what?”
With the muzzle pressed to my chest, I stop in front of him. “I think you’re cute, too.”