Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I can’t have anyone discovering this guilty pleasure. Not only is it incriminating, but people would see a part of me that’s best left in the dark. They would look at me weird and it’d most likely ruin my career. So I stick to my socially acceptable sculptures for the public eye, and in my spare time, when no one knows where I am or what I’m doing, I capture the beauty of the dead.
When I was fifteen, I started learning glass sculpting but never pursued it seriously. Not for my sellable pieces, anyway. But that skillset is mostly a secret. My parents know I had a tutor for three months, but I let her go and taught myself thereafter. I’ve kept this little part of me to myself. Until last night.
Granted, I didn’t expect the homicide detective to assume I was the one who left the gift in his apartment. Maybe I was too confident in having my friend Ivy hack his surveillance, and something went wrong.
But I wanted to toy with him, just as he’s been toying with me. I was hoping it might even spook him a little. That’s why I hired someone specifically to hack into the police’s systems and send me photos of bodies.
I just wasn’t expecting Braxton to clue in so quickly, especially when he clearly has no hard evidence. But it intrigues me how his mind works. Denying my talents and not taking credit for my work can sometimes be hard, and he’s the first person I’ve ever shared my secret art with.
I’d thought, why not dance with him a little before I put a bullet in his brain?
Or not, maybe. Considering how shocking it would be that I actually hit my target.
“Little red, you know you can always hire someone. Hell, tell me who the detective is, and I’ll do it for free as an early birthday present,” he suggests as we walk back to his car.
“No, this one, I need to deal with myself. It’s personal,” I tell him. He opens the trunk and loads the cases inside. The sound of sirens reaches our ears, and I freeze as Hawke draws one of the guns. I’m quick to hold down his hand as he tries to point it in the direction of the sleek black sedan coming toward us with its siren blaring.
“Don’t,” I hiss.
My blood boils. Fuck, Braxton is persistent.
“You do realize my car is full of illegal guns right now,” he comments. “But you’re in charge, little red.” He places the gun back in the trunk and then slams the lid down. He’s most likely got another two guns on his person, which is why he seems so calm, leaning against the car with his legs crossed at the ankles as Braxton pulls over and steps out of the sedan.
“Stalking is a crime, isn’t it?” I say to Braxton, who simply smirks as he approaches. This asshole actually thinks he’s God’s gift. It’s insufferable, and I’d be tempted to grab a gun and shoot him right now if I didn’t already know how fucking bad my aim is.
Braxton and Hawke size one another up, both sporting cocky expressions, as if this is the most normal interaction in the world. But they’re both beasts parading around as men. Fuck, this is bad. If Hawke reacts, he will end up murdering Braxton, and that thought infuriates me because I want to kill the asshole.
“Thought I’d take in the scenery,” Braxton says with a smile.
Hawke looks around the barren land, then says, “I think it’ll look better with a touch of red.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Braxton says.
I huff at the amount of testosterone filling the air.
“Are you following me?” I demand of Braxton as I stand in front of Hawke, making a clear message that neither of them is to start shooting or exchanging blows. The last thing I want is to give Braxton more of a reason to trail me.
“Yes,” he says matter-of-factly. Of course, he is. I can’t see his crystal-blue eyes behind the black sunglasses, but I know when he’s staring at me intently. “I’m making sure I don’t get any more unexpected items delivered to my home. This seemed like the most practical approach.”
“Does someone want to explain to me what the fuck is happening?” Hawke snaps. “I don’t know how to tell you this, buttercup, but Hope is a very dear cousin of mine. Our family is extremely protective. We wouldn’t want you to suddenly disappear because of a misunderstanding, would we?”
“No misunderstanding here,” Braxton says with a lethal smile, and I know he’s purposely antagonizing Hawke. He’s so fucking good at pushing my buttons, and Hawke is someone who can go from zero to one hundred flat. I put my hand against his chest as he changes his stance.