Page 23 of King of Hollywood

We both had our strengths. His was creating what I assumed to be quality knick-knacks and mine was…lawn work? Yes. Lawn work. Stalking. And carrying dead bodies—but I was trying to expand on that, as it wasn’t necessarily a marketable quality.

Couldn’t put that on my goddamn resume.

Or my profile on a dating website.

Even if it was a very useful skill, depending on who you asked.

“You want to fix my lawn?” Felix cocked his head to the side, staring up at me with those lovely, dark eyes. “I mean…” He chewed on his lip. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, Felix. “That would be nice, actually. Someone keeps complaining about me—and yard work is really difficult when I can’t go out during daylight. It’s always too late by the time I’m up to start mowing. I didn’t want to be rude—I know you work early in the mornings.”

When he laid out the facts like that it made me feel even worse that I was the one complaining about him. I supposed I’d never thought about it from his perspective. Every Saturday morning, like clockwork, I was out mowing and trimming my yard so it remained picture perfect. Felix couldn’t do that. He was trapped indoors till the sun went down—and like he said—he couldn’t very well start yard work at night.

There were several kinds of sun allergies. I’d researched them extensively, and while I didn’t know what Felix possessed, I could only assume it was bad. Perhaps he had Solar Urticaria? And exposure to the sun caused hives.

Either way, working at night was not ideal.

It was loud, yes, but more importantly it was dangerous. There were a lot of blades involved—and the idea of Felix out in low visibility trying to trim his hedges because I’d complained was—no.

No.

“I’m going to take care of it from now on.” Confidence felt good as I stared down at him, heart thudding. “Don’t worry about it. No one is going to complain about you ever again.”

Because I won’t be, I thought but wisely didn’t say.

Apparently I didn’t need to drink alcohol to have annoying regrets.

“Will it wake you if I start tomorrow morning?” I asked, shifting to look at the lawn more critically. I’d need to get out my weed whacker, that was for sure. A lawn mower was not enough to tackle this beast. If my sister, Melissa, lived closer, I’d ask to borrow her riding lawn mower. She’d just gotten a John Deere 7345R, and had been bragging about how smooth a ride it was. It felt like I’d blinked and she’d popped forty kids out.

I could barely keep track of their names.

Okay, so that was a lie. I knew all their names. And had their birthdays memorized. And made sure to send money for them.

“I’m a deep sleeper,” Felix grinned, leaning against the doorframe, watching me through his lashes. The little beauty mark beneath his eye mocked me. I’d never thought a mole was kissable before—but his certainly was. “It’s never bothered me when you do your lawn in the morning.”

Fuck, that hadn’t even occurred to me.

Ooops.

“Okay,” relieved, I twisted back to look at him. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Marshall.” Felix laughed, his forehead still leaning against the frame as he watched me retreat. The only reason I could tell anything was amiss was because his hands were trembling. I wasn’t certain why—maybe he was nervous around me after what we’d been through—but I’d just have to train him to trust me.

I had the capability of great violence, but I already knew that I could never raise a hand to Felix.

That wasn’t who I was.

I hoped after our date, perhaps he wouldn’t look so haggard—perhaps he’d feel safer knowing I was looking out for him.

“Have the police bothered you?” I asked, keeping my voice quiet. I probably shouldn’t have brought that up—especially after we’d already said our goodbyes, but it was a thought that had been plaguing me. Felix had killed at his own home, after all. He’d brought his kill here—and that meant there was less room for error—not that there was ever much room for that, all things considered.

“No,” Felix shook his head. There was an almost guilty look on his face. “I don’t think they will, either.”

“No?” I frowned, curious. “Why do you say that?”

“I just…yeah. I don’t think they will.”

Over-confident, but that was okay. I’d make sure he had an alibi if I needed to. I would take care of this. I made that vow to myself.

Because he was an investment—just like my car, or my stocks. And that meant he needed to be looked after.