Alex clenches his jaw, his fingers digging into my hips as he closes his eyes, needing a moment to compose himself. “Why didn’t you come to me, Mace? I hate that you were just across the hall, hurting.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I was so ashamed. I still am,” I admit. “I’ve never wanted to be that girl that people look at with pity—like I’ve already seen people doing today. I couldn’t stand the thought of you looking at me like that too, and if we’re really being honest, I didn’t know if I could come to you. Whatever this is between us is still so new, and I don’t know where we stand. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

  “Let me make it clear for you,” Alex rumbles, his arm locking around my waist and pulling me in, our bodies pressed tightly together. I suck in a gasp, that same tension snapping like an elastic band between us, my heart racing. “I’m going to fall in love with you, Kyah. A week from now, a month. I can’t be sure, but it’s happening whether you want it to or not, and I don’t give a shit if that scares the shit out of you.”

  I swallow hard, knowing I should be terrified by his admission, only I’ve never felt so at ease. “I’m not an easy person to love,” I warn him.

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” he tells me.

  “But I don’t even know your last name.”

  His brows furrow, and he watches me through a quizzical stare. “Is that important?”

  I nod, knowing I had a reason for wanting to know, remembering this morning I felt like it was some kind of big deal, only now it seems so irrelevant. “I . . . maybe. I’m not so sure anymore.”

  He grins, his gaze softening. “It’s—” An insistent, thumping knock sounds through my apartment, cutting Alex off, and both our gazes snap toward the door. “Are you expecting anyone?”

  I shake my head, unable to figure out why I suddenly feel on edge, and as I climb off Alex’s lap and watch him get up to answer the door, my hands start to shake. Perhaps it has something to do with Viper’s warning this morning, letting on that perhaps Crew wasn’t who I thought he was. But that leaves the question—who the fuck was he then?

  Alex glances back at me as he makes his way across my apartment, but when the knocking sounds again followed by Nat’s demand to hurry up and open the damn door, I breathe out a sigh of relief. “You know this chick?” Alex confirms, his fingers hovering on the door handle.

  “Yeah, my best friend, Nat,” I tell him. “If you don’t let her in, she’s just going to scale the side of the building and break in through my bedroom window.”

  Alex laughs. “Shit. Wouldn’t the fire escape up to your living room window be easier?”

  “You’d think,” I tell him. “But Nat doesn’t do anything the easy way.”

  Alex smirks then twists the handle and pulls the door wide open. Nat steps forward, expecting to find me in front of her before pulling up short, her eyes going wide. Her gaze trails over him, clearly liking what she sees. “Well, hello, Mr. Sex On Legs,” she says before double-checking the number on the front of my door, making sure she’s barging into the right apartment. “Who the hell are you?”

  I roll my eyes and force myself to my feet, bringing my comforter with me and wrapping it over my shoulders. “This is Alex,” I tell her, watching as her sharp gaze shifts to me. “He’s the neighbor I was telling you about.”

  “Ahhh, yes. The big-dick energy dude who slams you up against walls and tells you he wants you to beg for it,” she says, assessing him all over again, this time looking at him in a new light, her brows arching with interest as a wicked smirk pulls across her lips. “I approve.”

  “Uhhh . . . thanks,” Alex says, his gaze darting between me and Nat.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  Her expression sobers, and just like that, I realize she knows. “I had a call from Big Jim,” she explains. “He told me what happened and thought you could use the company. Though if I knew you were already busy with your hot neighbor, maybe I would have waited an hour or two and let you get your rocks off first.”

  I roll my eyes and walk into her, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug, my comforter now around us both. “No rocks were getting off,” I tell her, barely able to manage a smile. “He wants me to die of sexual frustration, remember? But between you and me, I think he’ll cave first.”

  “Ummm . . . You realize I’m still here?” Alex mutters, waving a hand to get our attention. “And for the record, I’m not caving, but we won’t need to wait long. You’ll be on your knees begging in no time.”

  I can’t resist glancing toward him, a sultry smile spreading across my face. “That sounds like a challenge, Parkour,” I say. “You better not be starting something you can’t handle, because between the two of us, only one is going to be begging, and it ain’t gonna be me.”

  Alex laughs and leans into me, his hand low on my back as he presses a kiss to my cheek. “Uh-huh. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mace,” he says, pulling back, then with a wink that almost has me crumbling to my knees, he says, “Good luck reaching for your monster dildo tonight. I know you’re gonna need it.”

  And with that, Alex strides out of my door, his rich, delicious laugh trailing behind him.

  18

  KYAH

  Rolling out of bed, I hold my breath as I creep across my room, peeking my head out into the living room and staring straight at the window, finding it open once again. It’s been a week since Crew was killed, and a week since I came home to find my window wide open.

  At first, I was more than willing to shrug it off as nothing more than a coincidence, but when it happened the very next day, I knew this was something more. Now, every single morning, I’ve woken up to find the window wide open. The only question is, is this a neighbor playing some stupid joke, or is this something a little more sinister?

  Letting out a heavy sigh, I grit my teeth before padding across my apartment, subtly looking around and staring into all of the dark corners, certain I’ll find someone staring back at me. Only there never is, and at this point, I’m about ready to scour the internet for a straitjacket. Surely I’m going insane, right? Because the only other option is that someone is coming into my apartment at night, and that shit doesn’t sit well with me.

  Hell, I’d bet every dollar I have that it’s Viper. He can be a fucking weirdo like that. But what am I supposed to say? “Uhh, Hi, Mr. Viper, Sir. Would you possibly mind letting me know if you happen to turn into a psychopathic stalker every night and sneak into my apartment? Mmmkay, thanks.” Shit. He’d laugh in my face and then say some bullshit about being the Vice President of the Grim Reapers, and if he wanted to see me, he wouldn’t need to stoop to levels like stalking, he’d just kick my fucking door in and take me caveman style.

  Crap. It really isn’t Viper.

  A shiver sails down my spine, and I quickly grab the window and slide it back into place, making sure to lock it, just as I’ve done every other day this week, which has me wondering how the fuck it’s getting opened in the first place since it can only be unlocked from inside.

  That thought sends another shiver down my spine.

  Shit. I’m in trouble here. I can’t say I’ve ever wished to have a ghost living in my apartment, but a ghost seems so much better than the alternative.

  Not wanting to spend a single minute longer than necessary in this apartment, I rush through a shower and scramble to get ready for work. Today’s my first day back at High Voltage Ink, and honestly, I’m not sure if I can handle walking through the doors. I haven’t been back there since the day it all went down.

  The cops kept the shop locked up for a few days while they investigated, and by the end of the week, they’d done everything they needed and allowed Big Jim access to clean the place up. I can’t imagine how hard that would have been. I didn’t see what state the shop was left in after the cops were done, and I can only assume all the blood had already been scrubbed clean, but it still would have been hell for Big Jim. Crew was like a son to him, just as I’m the daughter he never had.

  Big Jim canceled all of our appointments for the weekend, giving everyone time to grieve, and now, Monday morning, I’m supposed to head back to High Voltage Ink and get on with life as though there isn’t a big chunk of it missing.

  Heading out the door, my gaze shifts toward Alex’s. He usually makes an effort to come out and say hi when he hears me walking out, but knowing that my station at work is going to be a mess and I’ll need the extra time to go over my schedule and fit in some of Crew’s more important clients, I’m leaving a little early today. I wouldn’t be surprised if Alex was still out in the streets, working out and putting on a dazzling show for the women of Brooklyn.

  He’s been giving me space over the past week, trying not to crowd me as I grieve for my lost friend, but for the most part, he can’t resist checking on me at least twice a day. He hasn’t kissed me again, and while I desperately crave to find out what else Alex has been holding back, I also respect his self-control.

  I haven’t been in the right frame of mind to start something new, and as if sensing that, Alex has backed off, just doing what he can to offer me comfort when I need it. But that doesn’t mean he’s dared to move the mistletoe monster cock. That’s still hanging proudly above my door like some kind of trophy. Not gonna lie, I kind of wish I had gotten the chance to clean it before he went and stuck it up there, but it is what it is, and I’m just going to have to learn to live with it.

  The walk to work goes by all too quickly, and before I know it, I’m standing outside High Voltage Ink, holding my breath. I’m worried that walking inside those doors will send me into a tailspin, but seeing Big Jim through the windows all alone, I suck it up and push through the door.

  Jim’s head lifts as he hears the chime above the door, and he stretches a forced smile across his face. “Hey, Ky. How’re you doing?” he says, stepping out from his station and opening his arms just in time for me to step right into them.

  I shrug my shoulders, not really sure how to respond. “I’m . . . I don’t know. Fine, I guess.”

  “That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard,” he mutters as my gaze slowly moves around the room, expecting to see little drops of blood that have accidentally been forgotten. “How are you really doing?”

  I swallow hard, pulling out of his arms and moving to my station before dumping my bag onto my chair. “I just . . . I don’t know how to feel. I have so much guilt for being this angry with him, and it’s so selfish. I should be focusing on how much I miss him, and I do miss him. I miss him so much. Since the day I met him, I haven’t gone a week without hearing from him or getting some ridiculous text, and yet every time I think about him, all I can remember is the way his fist felt cracking against my jaw.”

  “You’re only human, Ky,” he tells me. “It’s not selfish, and you sure as fuck shouldn’t feel guilty about it. You did nothing wrong, and no one’s going to hold it against you for being angry. You have every right to feel that way. Crew was one of your closest friends, and he hurt you. Whether we lost him or not, it was still going to take some time for you to be able to move on and learn to trust him again. Hell, even if you decided to never trust him again, that’s okay. That’s your decision. But don’t feel guilty for having a human response. You can love and hate him at the same time.”

  I swallow hard and nod, grabbing my schedule and flipping through the pages for a distraction to keep my tears at bay because if I have to keep soaking up Big Jim’s words, I’m surely going to break.

  Realizing I need a few moments to myself, Jim nods toward my sketchpad. “Why don’t you put all that emotion into a design?” he says, moving around his station and preparing for his first client of the day. “It’ll give you somewhere to channel all of that bullshit.”

  My brows furrow as I glance toward my sketchpad, intrigue building in my chest. I haven’t picked up a pencil all week, too afraid of what kind of designs might come out of me, but Big Jim is right. I need somewhere to channel all of this guilt, and where better to get it out than a design? Perhaps I could do something dedicated to Crew. After all, there’s a blank space on my arm that he never got around to completing.

  With my mind set, I quickly sort out my schedule and start making calls, trying to squeeze in as many of Crew’s clients and hating how I have to explain over and over again why I’ll be taking over all of his appointments. Then after making sure everything in my station is exactly where it should be, I focus my attention on my sketchbook.

  I start working on a design with angry, harsh lines and quickly get lost in it, hating the darkness that stares back at me. A hooded skull with hollowed-out eyes resembling the grim reaper, its teeth almost fang-like as it reaches out toward me, looking as though it’s trying to pull me under, and as I finish the initial outline of the design, I catch my breath.

  It’s haunting, terrifying even, like something out of a nightmare. The design is elegant and yet angry as though you’ll never truly know its real nature, just like Crew. There’s a viciousness about it, and yet it's still so charming.

  A hand comes down on my shoulder, and I jump, my eyes going wide. I was so focused on my sketch that I didn’t hear anyone behind me. “How are you doing, Ky?” Big Jim asks, glancing over my shoulder at my design, his eyes widening in surprise, though I can’t quite work out why. I usually spend hours a week making designs that are just as haunting as this. “Your first client’s here.”

  “What?” I mutter, whipping around to see Aaron, one of my regulars, waiting by the reception desk. “Shit. Sorry. I was so lost in my own world, I didn’t hear the bell.”

  “All good. He only just got here,” Big Jim says as I hastily pack away my sketchbook and glance over my station before deciding to do a quick sanitize despite doing one just after I walked in. But hell, one can never be too clean, right?

  Jim keeps an eye on me as I hurry around my station, his gaze narrowed.

  “You’re staring,” I point out.

  “I think you should use that piece to finish out your sleeve,” he tells me, leaning back against his table, crossing a foot over the other as casually as ever, as though completely unaware of how his words have sent me into a blind panic. Though they shouldn’t. This is just a normal conversation between us. He couldn’t possibly know how I had to dive into the darkest pits of my soul to capture the perfect essence of Crew Ledger in that design, and now he thinks I should wear it on my arm like some kind of badge of honor, representing the man who almost crushed my jaw.

  Shit.

  “I don’t know,” I mutter, turning away, fearing he might see the panic flashing in my gaze as Aaron makes his way back to my station.

  “Just say the word and I’ll clear my schedule,” Big Jim says.

  I flash Jim a tight smile. “I, uhhh . . . yeah. I’ll let you know,” I tell him before turning my attention on Aaron and putting an end to the discussion. “Long time no see,” I say to Aaron. “I hope you’re ready. We’re in for a long one today.”

  With that, Aaron holds up a set of headphones as a cheesy smile rips across his face. “Oh, I’m ready. Music and all,” he tells me. “I don’t think I’ll survive if I have to listen to the shit Big Jim calls music for the next three hours.”

  “Hey, I heard that,” Jim throws across the shop.

  “You were meant to,” Aaron teases, and just like that, he whips his shirt off and drops down onto my chair. “Alright, let’s do this before I turn into a little bitch and chicken out.”

  Precisely three hours later, I stand with Aaron as he gazes into the mirror, a dorky smile stretching across his face as he takes in the new ink that takes up a large portion of his back. “Holy fuck,” Aaron grunts. “Have I ever told you how fucking amazing you are?”

  I laugh, one of my first real laughs in over a week. “You might have mentioned it once or twice.”

  “I second that,” a voice sounds from behind me, making me jump.

  I whip around, finding Viper standing barely a few feet away, and I mentally scold myself for not paying attention to the bell chiming over the door again. Maybe this is why someone is so easily getting away with screwing with my window every night. My mind is blocking everything out. Perhaps this is some kind of natural coping mechanism for my brain, trying to protect itself, but right now, all it’s doing is fucking with me.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask as Viper steps into me, his hand falling to my waist as he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my cheek.

  “Just came to check on you,” he says, his gaze subtly shifting toward Crew’s empty station. “You doing alright?”

  “I’d be doing better if people quit asking me that,” I quip, not wanting to discuss my feelings with Viper. Hell, having to come clean to Big Jim this morning was bad enough.

  “Message received loud and clear,” Viper says.

  “Hey, listen,” I say, moving with Aaron back toward my chair to start his aftercare as Viper makes himself at home in my station. He leans against the table, almost mimicking the stance Big Jim was in earlier, only Viper has to go one extra step and cross his big arms over his chest in case passersby didn’t already think he was intimidating enough. “I, ummm . . . I think I owe you an apology.”

  “The fuck you do,” he mutters.

  “No, really,” I continue. “Last week I came at you and made ugly accusations without a shred of evidence, and you didn’t deserve that. But not only that, you resisted biting my head off, despite how badly you wanted to.”

  “You don’t know that’s what I wanted.”

  “Yeah,” I scoff. “I do. It was written all over your face. But either way, I’m sorry. You were really cool about the whole thing when I didn’t deserve it.”

  Viper nods, accepting my apology, and something tells me that’s all that’ll be said about it. He’s not the type to linger on a topic or draw something out, which is surprising seeing as though he’s been relentlessly hanging on to the idea of making me his old lady for years, despite my constant refusal.