Joel’s eyes squeezed closed. Maybe if he kept his eyes closed, she’d disappear. Maybe she’d turn out to be nothing more than another nightmare. He circled back to his original hallucination idea. Maybe she wasn’t even really there. Maybe he’d finally slipped over the line and he was—
“You have more scars that I realized. I’m sorry for the pain you must have endured.”
Shit. He’d forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Even for a moment? But there he was, standing in front of her, revealing far too much.
She was beautiful. Perfect skin. Probably perfect life. Some mystery woman playing a weird game with him. Jerking him around. With his eyes still closed, he ordered, “Leave.”
“Did I say the wrong thing?” The floor creaked as she moved toward him. “Aren’t people supposed to say they’re sorry when they see evidence of someone else’s pain?”
“Only if you actually mean you’re sorry. I’m sick to death of fake words.” His eyes opened.
Her lips were parted. Her eyes wide. “Me, too,” she whispered. Her slender throat moved as she swallowed. For an instant, he could have sworn that he saw a flash of pain in her bright blue eyes. Then the flash was gone, and her gaze was drifting over his body. Lingering on all the scars that reminded him too much of a past that he wished he could forget.
Joel marched around her and headed into his bedroom. Where the hell had he left his t-shirt? His gaze raked the room. Not like the place was much to see. Nothing on the walls. Just two stacked mattresses on the floor. The two windows were wide open, letting the night air drift inside. Night air and bugs because there were always bugs in New Orleans. Dammit, she couldn’t see this. She couldn’t—
“This room is even worse.”
Great. She’d followed him. Without an invitation. Surprise, surprise. “Do you always enter a man’s bedroom without permission?” He spied his t-shirt on the floor. He yanked it on. Hissed out a hard breath when the wound on his arm throbbed.
“Careful, or you’ll make it bleed again.” Her heels tapped across the floor. “Men do usually give me permission, by the way. I’ve never had a problem getting into a man’s bedroom before. In fact, usually the men seem quite happy to have me in their bedrooms.”
He just bet they did.
Joel yanked on a pair of jeans. Then he spun to face her as he zipped up and hooked the snap.
Her chin lifted. “You may need to dress up a bit more for where we’re going. That t-shirt looks far too much like the one Carl was wearing.”
He gaped. “How the hell do you know my neighbor’s name?”
“Because it was on the mailbox downstairs.”
She’d stopped to look at the pile of battered mailboxes? What was up with Chloe? He stalked toward her. Stood toe-to-toe with his gorgeous, late-night intruder. “I am not going any place with you. You’re going to get out of my home—”
Her lips parted. He knew she was about to correct him. Say this wasn’t a home. Nope, not happening.
“Home,” he growled, beating her to the punch. “It might not be much, but it’s mine, and I don’t want you here. You need to leave.”
Click, click. She blinked in confusion and kept studying him. “You want more than this. I know you do.”
“What I want is to go back to bed.” Actually, he was going. Screw this. Joel threw himself onto the bed—mattresses. Slammed a fist beneath his lumpy pillow. “See yourself out, would you?”
“Fine. I thought you would be interested in helping me on the case, given your past.” Chloe turned away. “It’s very unusual for me to be wrong. I don’t think I like this feeling.”
Do not ask her. Do not ask her— “What about my past?”
She was at his bedroom door. One slender hand rose and slid along the chipped wood of the frame. “You survived an attack from a serial killer.”
Joel was glad that Chloe couldn’t see his face. Glad her back was to him. “Read that somewhere on the Internet, did you? Or maybe you saw it on the news when the story first aired?” No matter how far you ran, sometimes you just couldn’t escape your past.
Instead of answering him, she noted, “You have triple locks on your front door. Do you think the killer will find you one day?”