“I’m not going to—”
Her foot caught a step.
Again, I caught her without thinking, my other arm coming around to steady her waist. My body pressed hers against the wall, just enough for her to feel me through her clothes.
She froze against me for a moment, her eyes wide and her chest rising and falling rapidly. I could see those fucking piercings of hers through the thin material of her shirt.
I swear I caught the spark of panic, and something else — dangerously close to ecstasy — flicker through her.
“I would’ve recovered,” she muttered indignantly, lying through her teeth.
“You were damn near horizontal, baby.”
My thumb deliberately brushed lightly along her forearm, and she shivered visibly.
“I was still in control.” She narrowed her eyes.
I had to bite back a grin because she looked so fucking cute, even as she tried to convince herself she was indignant.
The dark, open hallway, cloaked in shadows, stretched ahead. It was perfect for the situation at hand, but the thought of her walking down this dodgy hallway alone, for however long, nearly gave me a heart attack.
As we rounded a corner, some kind of instinct told me we weren’t alone, prompting me to shrink back into the shadows and hide from sight. I pulled Addy back with me, plastering her to my side, then chanced a quick glance around the corner to assess the situation.
An elderly woman stood further down the hallway like she’d always stood there. Her narrow shoulders were wrapped in a faded house-dress hanging loosely from her frame. A thin cardigan was buttoned all the way up despite the heat, and her gray hair was twisted into a bun so tight it looked permanent.
A small white dog trembled at the end of its leash, its body no larger than a loaf of bread, dark eyes sharp and restless, the kind of little yapper possessing a sixth sense for disturbances of any kind.
And it did notice me. Not visually — not yet — but something in the air shifted, and the dog’s tiny body stiffened before a sharp, piercing bark split the quiet hallway and ricocheted off tile and concrete.
The woman’s chin lifted slowly, peering around shrewdly.
Neither her age nor her size was threatening in the slightest, but the sharpness in her gaze made me pause. Her gaze lingered, taking in details and storing them away for later.
She was the kind of neighbor who would remember a face she’d never seen before. The kind who would replay a moment over and over in her head until it made sense.
I edged further into the shadows, pressing my back against the cool concrete and adjusting my position until the light from the lamps passed me by instead of catching the contours of my body. From here, she couldn’t see us. I made certain of it.
But Addy was fidgeting in my grasp, flushed and confused, and the fucking dog barked again, shrill and insistent.
Goddamn it. The last thing I needed was a fucking witness.
Old people were usually exceptionally good at spotting patterns, and patterns meant she would know when something didn’t belong.
If she saw Addy glance toward the shadows, if she noticed tension in her posture, if she later tried to describe what she had felt in that moment — suspicion would form. Suspicion would lead to questions, and questions would lead to inconvenience.
Before I consciously allowed it to, my mind began calculating. The staircase behind her was narrow. The railing was unstable. A misstep at her age would not require much force. The city witnessed quiet deaths every day and rarely paid them any attention.
It would be clean and efficient.
Necessary.
I shifted my weight forward slightly, calculating the distance between us, planning the timing, angle and aftermath, as I always did when faced with uncertainty.
Addy froze, her body going from pliant to rigid.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but I noticed the moment her body registered the shift in me — the change in air pressure occurring when I made a decision.
She didn’t look at me, but it was almost as if she didn’t need to, as if she couldfeelit.