“Might as well kill everyone with your gun.” I squeeze the trigger, sending a bullet into his heart, point-blank.
With my eyes on his, I aim the gun to the side and put a round into the man who died seconds after I entered the room. Just for good measure.
CHAPTER 17
Cassie
“Hi, Hans. I wanted to ask you for my book back. And see if maybe you could kiss me like you did yesterday?” I blink into the mirror, then drop my head forward and groan.
I can’t figure out what to say. And the more I practice it, the more ridiculous it sounds.
But that’s just it. The whole thing is ridiculous. Because my neighbor, who hasn’t said more than a single word to me since I moved in over a year ago, who has literally only ever mowed his yard when I’m not home or gotten his mail when I’m not near enough to even wave, who eats—or throws away—every baked good I’ve ever given him without so much as a thank you, that neighbor banged down my front door, stormed into my house, and demanded to know who I took the sexy photos for. Like a possessive boyfriend who found another man’s boxers in my car.
But he didn’t just demand to know. No, he counted to three. He lifted me with one hand, between my legs, and then manhandled me in a way I’ve only dreamed of.
Clenching my thighs, I lift my head back up and face my mirror.
I look good.
I put on just enough makeup to look like I’m not wearing any while covering the dark circles under my eyes. I’m wearing leggings instead of shorts, a tank top instead of a baggy shirt, and a soft bralette instead of no bra—which is my compromise for having to wear any sort of bra on a Saturday.
Basically, I picked the opposite of everything I was wearing last night.
I’m sure I’m overthinking it, but at least there’s nothing about my appearance that can make him think I’m trying to recreate yesterday. But that’s also why I wore my hair down, even though the summer humidity will for sure frizz my curls between my house and his.
I square my shoulders. “Go across the street. Get your book back. Tell him he’s welcome to finish what he started. Then smile and walk back home.”
Before I can chicken out, I head down the stairs.
After Hans did that little runaway act yesterday, I’ve kept an eye on his house. And I know he came home about an hour ago—just in time for dinner. And I know he hasn’t left.
With one last deep breath, I slide my sandals on, then open my front door.
I’m only half hyperventilating by the time I get to Hans’s door. But I can’t turn around now, so I suck in a lungful of air and knock against the wood.
The sound is quiet, muted, like the door is made of something denser than mine, but it’s loud enough for someone inside to hear.
If he’s actually going to open the door for the first time ever.
Only a few seconds pass before I hear the deadbolt unlock.
Oh god, it’s happening.
When the door swings open, I start to talk. If I pause, I won’t speak at all.
“I came to get…” The rest of my words bump against each other inside my chest.
Hans is in loose-fitting sweatpants and a tight-fitting T-shirt. Jesus Christ. I want to put a steaming mug into his hands and stick him in a nineties coffee commercial.
Then I notice the exhausted look on his face. “Are you okay?”
He nods, and I watch as his narrowed eyes lower to my empty hands.
I bite my lip.
All the other times I’ve knocked on his door, it’s because I’ve brought him food. Now that he actually answers, I have nothing to offer.
Is he hungry? Is that why he actually answered the door?
Ohmygod, stop it. I don’t need to offer him anything. I’m here because the man stole my book.
“I would like my book back,” I say in what feels like a very mature tone.
Hans shakes his head.
Umm…
I hadn’t really considered him not agreeing.
“No, you won’t give it back?” I clarify.
He just holds my gaze.
“You can’t just keep it.” I lift my hands, fingers spread, in a what gives gesture. “It… was expensive,” I blurt out. Even if I shouldn’t need a reason. Because it’s mine.
Instead of replying, Hans steps back from the door, giving me my first view into his house. And I have to press my lips together to keep from smiling. Because from here, I can see that my guesses were correct.
The front door opens into the living room, like mine does. And off to my right is a little hall that must lead to the bedrooms. Right ahead of me is a doorway that must lead to a basement, and to the left is the kitchen, then the entrance to the garage.