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To be fair, they probably never would have condoned me stealing another girl’s identity, taking her inheritance, and using it to get some very disturbing revenge on all the men who scarred me for life.
Just how fucking close are they? Why is she so hell-bent on finding dirt on me? Do I need to kill her? No. No. I can’t kill her. Not unless she’s a rapist. Any chance she’s a rapist?
I am Kennedy Carlyle. Well, actually I’m Lana Myers. Victoria Evans and Kennedy both died, and Lana was born. It’s a wonder I don’t have an identity crisis.
It’s all cloak and dagger right now. That’s what happens when you’re a serial killer dating a FBI profiler who hunts serial killers.
I really don’t like her. Can I cut her? Just a little?
“I don’t feel comfortable with a random stranger sleeping in my house. A badge doesn’t make him noble.”
As he backs out, he honks the horn twice, and a stupid grin lights up my face. I remember my neighbor always honking as he pulled out, as though it was one last temporary goodbye to his wife. Annnnd I’m back to being two steps away from that name tattoo on my ass.
There’s a certain high you get from fooling the world into thinking you’re the lamb instead of the rabid wolf.
But I obviously don’t point that out. A good, sane, non-stabby girl wouldn’t know that.
I’m the best option for keeping me safe. I think it’s adorable that he believes Duke to be more capable than me though.
A serial killer sharing a house with a homicide detective and a FBI agent. Life doesn’t get more complicated than this.
It’s sad that I want to hide my bodies now so that my boyfriend gets a break and can spend more time with me.
I dropped two bodies in one day, but I hardly feel like now is the time to brag about my awesome efficiency.
I don’t know a lot of things about her. But a past doesn’t make a person, and that’s all she’s holding back. I trust that she’ll share that when she’s ready.
I don’t bleed for the world anymore. He saw more than anyone else, and he didn’t bother to care when it mattered the most.
I turn and walk away, and he lets me, because he can’t follow. He can’t make a scene. The Boogeyman could be watching. Let the sick bastard come. I need something to stab.
I’m already too fucking attached. I don’t cry. I haven’t cried since the day the tears stopped falling. Yet tears are breaching my eyes with a renewed vigor as I drive toward Jake’s house.
I survive to avenge the wrongs of the past. Falling in love? It’s the end of a girl like me.
“If he’s innocent, you can’t kill him.” “Don’t worry,” I tell my overly concerned friend. “They always confess their sins to me.”
“Damn it,” Craig hisses, going to grab the emergency wheelchair from the corner. “You try to put me in that thing, and you’ll be wearing it when I’m done with you,” she snarls, stopping him cold.
She never had a Jake. Maybe Logan is the closest thing to Jake she has, which is why she came after someone she thought was playing him. I’d kill a bitch for Jake. Hadley doesn’t deserve to be broken, so she’ll never see that picture.
Where they die, a nail gets taken. His nail will go beside the others, finding a home with other perverted sons of bitches.
“You’re strength comes from somewhere different. Somewhere more pure. Mine? Mine is hollowed out and filled with darkness, Lindy.
I’ve been patient. I’ve thought it all through. Now I just wait on the chips to fall in place, and while they play poker, I’ll be playing dominoes.”
Just as silently, I open the drawer, and pull out the gun I have hidden there. Why is there a gun hidden in my bathroom? Have you ever seen a horror film? The girl always gets stabbed in the shower. Or she runs into the bathroom and locks the door, but has no way to defend herself when the psycho killer breaks in.
“It’s not your fault. I didn’t want to ruin the moment, but I didn’t want to lie either.” “You don’t have to lie,” he says, the words making me bite back more truth than he could ever handle. “It’s amazing you survived.” He has no idea. “I flat-lined twice. Technically I died twice. Then I was reborn. At least that’s how I like to think of it.”
Another grin curls my lips. He’s just healed another small piece of me.
As if my life wasn’t complicated enough, I’m about to head into FBI headquarters. Lovely.
“It’s often easier for someone to believe evil can’t exist inside someone they love, than to admit they’ve failed someone who should be more important. We see it too often. The blind eye effect is what we call it,” I say absently.
But they’re looking for a monster. Not a girl who loves red. Not a girl who is falling in love. Not a girl who died ten years ago.
Besides, no one expects a laughing girl in the breakroom to have recently tortured a guy and dug up dark secrets no one even knew existed.
Shit. They’ve definitely linked this kill to me—well, the me they can’t name, rather. I knew they would. Now I have to let him do his job, trying to find me.
“Donny, you remember my girlfriend, right?” Logan asks, and my heart does little cartwheels for reasons unbeknownst to me. I’m his girlfriend. I have a boyfriend.
No ruthless killer here, boys. Just a harmless woman falling in love. That’s all.
