Chapter 70

“You need a ride?” he asked and his voice was deeper than the Mariana Trench, perfectly matching his frightening appearance. Black tattoos crept up his neck and snaked down his hands below his sleeves. His shoulders were wide, his muscles strained the sleeves of his thick black jacket, and his cheeks were hollow. I was one second from shitting myself.

“I’m not riding with a serial killer!” The words slipped out of my mouth and I groaned. I couldn’t have kept my mouth shut for five fucking seconds to avoid being chopped up and thrown to the wolves?

He threw his head back and let out a thunderous laugh.

“What’s so goddamned funny?” I glared at him, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I’m no serial killer.”

“And I’m just supposed to take your fucking word for it?” I raised an eyebrow. I knew I was being combative and taking out my frustration on this stranger, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“You could call my ma for references.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” With a deep sigh, I resigned to my fate and started walking again. No way was I getting into a car with that mammoth of a man.

“Where you goin’?” he called after me. When I didn’t bother to answer, he eased off the break and let his truck crawl after me.

I swirled around. “Stop following me, you creep,” I hissed.

He let go of the steering wheel with one hand and held it up as if he surrendered. “Look, man. It’s freezin’. You’re wet and miserable. Get in the truck and lemme take you wherever you’re goin’.” His deep voice was surprisingly gentle. Non-threatening, as if he’d come to expect reactions like mine.

“I’m really not a bad guy.” He stuck out his lower lip in a pout that would have made a five-year-old girl green with envy and I had to bite my lip to stop a smile from erupting.

“Really?” I tried to hang on to my mistrust, but he made it hard. His appearance screamed RUN AND HIDE, but there was something soft in his eyes that told a different story.

He shot me a crooked smile. “It was worth a try. It works on my niece every time.”

The fucker knew all the right words to say to disarm me. “And how old is she?”

“Four.”

I huffed out a reluctant chuckle. “Well, you know how it is. Everyone always says how they couldn’t believe their neighbor was a serial killer because he seemed like such a nice guy.”

His eyes grew big and round. “You’re sayin’ you don’t trust my niece as a character witness?” He sounded as though I’d just delivered the biggest insult of his life, but the amused glint in his eyes told me it was all for show.

“Can you blame me?”

“I guess not.” He sighed and grew serious. “Please. I couldn’t live with myself if I left you here to freeze to death.”

My body screamed at me to take him up on his offer. The ice pellets were relentless and I was soaked and gloomy and was starting to feel like maybe being ax murdered wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to me right now.

The openness in his posture and honesty in his eyes had me on the verge of caving. “You promise you won’t kill me?” I sounded like a scared little kid even to my own ears.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” He smiled, made a cross over his heart, and leaned over to open the passenger door. The warmth from inside washed over me and I jumped into the truck and slammed the door to keep the arctic weather out. He’d already rolled up the window and as I buckled up, he turned the heat to maximum. When the warm air hit my face, I wanted to cry of happiness.

“Take off your coat,” he said and twisted his body so he could reach something in the back seat.

“Why?” I pulled my wet suit coat tighter around my body. His presence was overwhelming and invaded my space, even if he physically kept his distance. Whatever progress we’d made before I’d gotten into his vehicle evaporated, and I was back to being hostile.

“Because it’s wet.” He shoved a dark gray fleece jacket at me. “Wear this.”

I wrinkled my nose. Fleece was so not my thing.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” He shook his head. “Put on the darned thing or you’ll catch your death.”

It was just what my mom had always said when she’d caught me sneaking out without warm clothes when I was a kid, and the familiarity made me see how ridiculous I was being. I peeled off my wet garment and put on his fleece monstrosity. I drowned in it—it could probably have doubled as a tent—but it was dry, shrouded me in heat, and thawed my frozen spirit.