Hot For Her Ex-Con (Dark Desires #7)

1. Killian

CHAPTER 1

Killian

M y sweaty fists open and close like angry claws. The wide space of the bus terminal feels like it’s zooming towards me, making me dizzy.

My heaving breaths sound every bit like the cornered animal I must look. Nothing moves a crowd quicker than a man my size, looking like he’s ready to pop into a public space.

And nothing undoes me quicker than being out. Eight years inside got me used to a lot of things, but dealing with the real world wasn’t one of ‘em.

I’ve done dumber things, though…

The thought calms me some. Killing Trap is still at the top of my to-do list. At least, I thought it was until about five seconds ago.

But going back to Carol’s? After she told everyone she knew that me and her were a thing? It’s messed up. I mean, she’s nice and all. Took me in when no one else would.

But that , with Carol? Nuh-uh. No way. Never even crossed my mind. She must be like forty-five.

I was supposed to leave like I came—quietly. Sink back into the shadows I came from. And if it wasn’t for a billboard ad at the bus station, I might have kept leaving.

Might have skipped this sudden attack of crazy fucker at the bus station. The driver of the waiting coach looks nervous as he waits. Nervous I’ll get on and actually have a ticket, but I’m already wondering what I’d do if he drives off, leaving me without a ride.

I vowed to track down the maggot who put me in jail, and maybe it’s just as well to put a lot of space between me and the landlady, Carol. But now I’m here, ready to skip town, something’s come loose inside me.

A different feeling, and it’s not the vengeful streak I’ve been carrying for eight years, either.

A billboard of all things.

Some ad for something stupid, but it’s the image, not the product, that changes my mind about everything.

Man. Woman. Kid. A dog in the background…

My crooked smile to myself isn’t me thinking about my hands around Trap’s neck. So why would a billboard ad of all things make my insides turn to something I know I’m incapable of feeling?

Because they’re fucking happy.

It hits me like a lockdown alarm that the one thing I’ve craved my whole life isn’t to be the huge homicidal maniac with a snarl and a chip on his shoulder.

It’s to be Mr. Regular with Mrs. Regular at my side. Like in a proper family.

Carol’s a nice lady. And a cheap board to an ex-con fresh out of an eight-year stretch is one thing. But telling the world he’s your man is something else entirely. Especially when that man’s me, and I’m the last one to hear about it.

I’m going back, though. Have to know. But not for Carol. Not even for the prospect of a cheap roof over my head.

See, there’s something else. Someone else. The girl who used to occupy the room I let from Carol. Some college kid, Carol told me. Moved on once she dropped out or couldn’t afford the rent.

But whoever was in that room before me, whoever slept in that little bed my weight’s been pressing down on for the past few weeks; she’s been in my thoughts and feelings non-stop without me even realizing.

It’s only now that I’m leaving that I feel it missing. The smell of her sheets…

The panties I found in the dresser drawer that smell twice as good as the sheets.

I’ve probably tried to bury it all with my need for revenge, but this other need is showing in a way vengeance never could. Moving away from the source instead of seeking it out suddenly seems like a bad idea.

The closest I’ve ever felt to that stupid ad in real life has been sleeping in that bed, feeling the warmth and smelling the faint hint of shampoo on the pillowcases, no matter how many times they get washed.

Whoever she is, that’s who I’m going back for, so if it lands me back in prison or worse, sees me running into Carol again, so be it.

But I need to know. I need to find something, a clue I can use to track down the girl I know was in that room before me.

And when you do find her, what then? Watch her run a mile as you chase her, screaming, ‘Come back here so I can marry you!’?

I groan at the thought. The coach driver calling out and pointing to his wrist snaps me back to reality.

“You getting on, mister? I-I gotta schedule, ya know.”

My eyes narrow, and I shake my head. Spinning on my heel, feeling like a lunatic for ever thinking I could leave that room, I push past anyone who’s in my way until I’m in a cab heading straight back to Carol’s.

The heat from my need already presses hard against my jeans, proving that my body at least isn’t primed for vengeance. It’s long overdue for something else.

Eight years inside, a man learns to temper that kind of thing. But after that first night of freedom, I know the only thing I want belongs to whoever stayed in that room before me.

“You all right there, buddy?”

The cab driver shoots me a scornful look, making me realize I’m not only thinking about those panties I should have left behind. I’ve got ‘em crammed against my face, inhaling deeply like it’s a fresh bunch of flowers.

Been carrying them the whole time without even realizing.

“How ‘bout you just drive the fucking car, huh?”