42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Ethan

Kayla naps as I drive back home. Home. She actually called my house home after everything that happened. This woman is a miracle. A thoroughly fucked miracle, that is. She looks every inch like a woman that has just been fucked in a forest and I can't stop glancing at her even though I should be focused on driving.

"This is such a nice neighborhood," she mumbles sleepily when I take the last turn into the cul-de-sac I live on. We live on. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. "Nice front lawns, people walking their dogs, kids playing…"

Something about her words rings alarm bells in my mind, but I can't pinpoint what it is. I eye my neighbor's front lawn, noticing there are indeed tiny figures running around. "Those are Mrs. Fernandez's grandkids. They don't live here but visit from time to time and—Wait, did you say people walking their dogs?"

"Yeah. I saw this guy in the morning when we were leaving. And the other night, when we were coming back from Georgia's. I remember being grateful I don't have a dog because I wouldn't be able to get up in the middle of the night to walk it."

I pull into my driveway and press the button on my garage door remote, my mind running a mile a minute. "What did he look like?"

"Umm. I don't know. He was wearing a black hoodie with the hood up, so I didn't see his face. I didn't even see the dog, just the man standing next to some shrubs with a leash in his hand. Isn't that weird?"

I roll into the garage. When Kayla reaches for her door, I put a hand on her wrist. "Stay in the car, please."

"What?" Her eyes widen when I pull a gun from the glove compartment. "Ethan? What's going on? Is that…ohmygod, was that guy from the FBI? Because of your…thing?"

As much as I want to laugh at her calling me being a serial killer "my thing", I can't bring myself to relax. A man walking a dog. Without a dog. It might be nothing. It might be something.

I check the notifications on my phone to make sure Kayla's theory isn't true. "It's not the FBI. I have a back door to their system and a subroutine that would alert me if my name ever came up in any of their investigations. But…" I hesitate, not sure how to explain it so that she doesn't think I'm crazy. "The only person on this street who has a dog is Mrs. Forbes, and she doesn't walk it at night. In fact, she doesn't walk it at all."

"So? Maybe she just hired someone to walk it? Or someone else got a dog? Or someone from another street is coming here with their dog?"

Kayla doesn't sound convinced, and I don't blame her. She must already think I'm a nutjob, and this isn't improving that impression. "I know it sounds crazy, but…" I trail off with a sigh. "Call it an instinct, but I don't like this. Which is why I'm going out to see this dog person myself and you'll wait in the car. Okay? Please?" I add on a second thought, not wanting to sound like I'd lock her in the car if she didn't agree. Even though I would.

"Alright." She shrugs. "The guy was kinda creepy, so… I guess I don't need more stalkers. Just be careful."

"I will."

By the time I get to the place where Kayla saw the man, he's gone, but an ominous tingle at the back of my neck tells me I'm being watched. And if it's not the FBI—which it isn't—and it's not some fellow serial killer hoping to make friends, it leaves only one person. Benjamin Fucking Adams. Which also means I'm not the target here. Kayla is. And I'm going to kill that fucker before he gets anywhere near her.

I touch the gun in the waistband of my pants. I don't pull it out because I'm not about to get arrested for waving my—very much legal—gun around in a quiet neighborhood, but anyone watching me will see I'm armed. As a deterrent, it works, because one of the parked cars speeds away, its tires squealing as the driver guns the engine. I tap the license plate into my phone and run it through the DMV database, the first system I've ever hacked at the ripe age of fourteen. Needless to say, their security hasn't improved since then.

The car comes up as registered to a rental company. Not very helpful, but better than nothing. I'll work on hacking their system later, but right now, I need to get back to Kayla. I'm not leaving her side again. Ever.

To my relief, Kayla is still in the car. She's moved to the driver's seat, fidgeting when I cock my brow. "I thought I'd drive in case you needed…um, a getaway driver? Is that a thing?"

I gawk at her, not sure if I should be awed or furious. "So, if it really was the FBI after me, you'd drive a serial killer through their blockade while they shoot at us? Jesus Christ, woman." I rub my face.

"Well…yeah? Obviously, we wouldn't be like Bonnie and Clyde, but I'm not letting them arrest you. Besides," she adds with a cocky grin, "I can always say you kidnapped me and made me do things, so I'm pretty much safe."

I'm definitely spanking her bratty ass again. "You're not safe from a stray bullet, Kayla, so don't even think about getting involved if the FBI ever does try to bring me in. And this isn't the FBI. I think it's Adams."

"Benjamin Adams? Why would he be after you? I mean, obviously you're the one who bugged his house and leaked the video—thank you for that, by that way—but he doesn't know that, does he? Actually, wait." She frowns. "Michelle did say he was mad at you because he knew Director Smith asked you to help with Aaron's case. But would he stalk you when he can't know for sure if you planted the cameras?"

"Why would you think it was me?" I tease, even though she's absolutely right. "I'm a popular, upstanding citizen, in case you haven't noticed. I don't go around breaking into people's houses and planting hidden cameras." I allow myself a brief smile before switching back to being serious. "He's not after me, Kayla. I think he's here because of you."

"Oh." She chews on her lip. "Maybe I shouldn't be here then. I don't want to put you in danger."

I blink, my eyes widen, then I blink again. "What. The. Fuck?" The urge is too great now and I guffaw loudly, the sound echoing through the garage. "God, Kayla! Are you serious right now? There's a lunatic after you who already trashed your car, and you want to be alone because you don't want to put me in danger? Me, another lunatic who already stalked and kidnapped you? Jesus Christ, woman, are you even listening to yourself?"

"Well, if you put it like that…" She rolls her eyes. "I guess I am safer here with you. I just don't want to be an inconvenience."

I laugh again. I can't fucking believe this woman. "There's absolutely no way I'm letting you leave now, even if it means locking you in the basement for real. Not until I get rid of Adams," I add darkly.

"Are you going to kill him?"

"Yes." I finally let Kayla out of the car but hesitate before pulling her into my arms. I just confirmed that I'm about to murder someone in cold blood. Feeling the need to explain, I go on, even if it means I might be digging my own grave. "I wanted to kill him when I first saw the security footage of what he was doing to Aaron. I didn't, because I enjoyed watching his life fall apart when the world saw him for the monster he is. Had I known he'd be a danger to you, I would have just made him disappear."

Unafraid, Kayla wraps her arms around me. "I enjoyed that too. Watching him lose everything, I mean. If he simply disappeared, the whole town would mourn the loss of a beloved citizen. Aaron is with his grandparents, by the way. I don't know if you've been following the case or if you care, but he's with his mother's parents, who love him more than anything."

"I know." I pull her closer, placing a kiss on the top of her head, wincing as a twig stuck in her hair pokes near my eye. "I hacked into the CPS database years ago."

Kayla chuckles. "Of course you did. So, what do we do now? How do we find Adams and get rid of him?"

"We? Oh no, bunny. There's no we. Not in this case, at least." The idea of bringing my sweet bunny along when I kill someone chills me to the bone. Kayla might be tough, tougher than I ever expected, but I don't want that darkness for her.

Kayla purses her lips as if she wants to argue, then shakes her head. "Whatever. We can discuss it later." As if there would be any further discussion of this topic. "I really need that shower now. I smell like a sweaty horse who got fucked in a forest and, let me tell you, it's not a good feeling."

I grin, loudly sniffing around her neck. "Nonsense. You smell like a sexy horse who just got spanked and then made love on the forest floor."

Kayla chortles loudly, her body jerking in my arms as she laughs. "Dammit, Ethan. You're so weird. Thank you for today, by the way. It was the best thing anyone has ever done for me. The best first date ever!"

"First date. Right." I chuckle, realizing she's not wrong. I've been in her house, slept in her bed, and had sex with her, but none of those really qualify as dates. "I thought our first date was when you woke up in my cellar," I tease, a twinge of guilt spearing my insides when I remember how scared she was.

"Fine, second date then. Smartass. Anyway, the shower? I really like the utilitarian aesthetics of your garage, but—"

I lightly smack her ass. "Yeah, yeah. Shower. We're going. Stay behind me."

With a gun in hand and Kayla in tow, I do a quick sweep of the house, but the security systems are intact. Adams hasn't tried to get inside. Yet. Not that he would be able to.

Deciding to forget about him and enjoy the moment, I follow Kayla to the bathroom. I wince at the scratches covering her arms, but fortunately, they're only superficial. Still, I don't like seeing her hurt.

She groans as she bends to take off her socks, so I kneel before her and take her foot in my hands. "You shouldn't," she complains, watching me roll the sock off her foot. "I stink."

"Like a horse," I agree, grinning up at her. I love seeing her on her knees in front of me, but I have to admit the opposite is not without merit, either. "I love horses," I note as I brush my nose against her inner thigh, taking in the heady scent of her arousal mixed with both our juices.

Kayla gasps and pushes against me. "Ethan… I'm filthy."

"Kayla, I couldn't care less. If you weren't sore and exhausted, I'd kneel before you for hours, feasting on your pussy. But," I continue before she can muster up a protest, "since you are sore and exhausted, I'll just settle with helping you wash your hair." I pull off her other sock, then help her with the rest of her clothes.

We both let out a relieved sigh as we step into the shower and the steaming hot water pelts our bodies. "Oh yes," Kayla moans. "This is the shit. Hand me the conditioner, will you? I better get started on those tangles."

I'm unable to conceal my grin as I grab the bottle and squirt a big dollop of the whitish substance into my palm. As I massage it into Kayla's tangled curls, she narrows her eyes at me. "What are you so happy about?"

"Nothing," I reply, fighting hard not to chuckle as I think about the loads of cum mixed with the original contents of the bottle. Kayla has already accepted a lot of my darkness, but somehow I get the feeling that my cum in her hair and skin products would come across worse than me being a serial killer, so I'll keep that my little secret. "I'm just happy you're here, bunny."