laughing. This isn't funny."
Sounding more amused than ever, he said, "Two minutes."
My teeth were grinding now. "Will you please stop that?"
He practically snorted. "Why?"
"Because it's making me nervous." At this, I almost winced. What an asinine thing to say. My nerves should've shattered the moment he'd busted through the door. And maybe they would've, if only I hadn't become numb to nasty surprises.
Today had been way too full of them.
"Good," the guy said.
So he was happy that I was nervous? What kind of sicko was he, anyway? With a sound of annoyance, I said, "And why is that good?"
"Because," he said, "you're in my house. And you're gonna tell me why."
Chapter 2
Arden
His words hit like a hammer. His house?
My stomach twisted with new despair. So the house had been sold out from under me? To him?
In spite of the evidence, I didn't want to believe it. Over the sounds of the shower, I called out, "Says you."
"Yeah," he scoffed. "Me and the deed."
Crap.
I didn't know the guy, but he didn't sound like he was lying. Plus, his bold claim meshed all too well with everything else I'd seen ever since rolling into town – on a Greyhound bus, no less.
When I considered everything I'd gone through to get here, my fingers tightened into fists. Jason – that lying rat-fink bastard.
I was gonna kill him. Already I could think of several ways to do it, slowly.
The guy said, "What, you wanna see it?"
The deed?
Hell no.
What I wanted was to light the stupid thing on fire and watch it burn. But that sort of thing was hardly productive – as I'd learned the hard way back in high school.
"No," I snapped. "What I want is for you to get out."
He shifted his stance, making his muscles pop enticingly under the wet fabric of his shirt. "Did you miss the part where you're in my house?"
"I don't care," I told him. "You need to step outside, like now."
With a laugh, he said, "Forget it."
"What?" I sputtered.
"It's raining buckets out there."
Well, that explained the wet shirt. Through gritted teeth, I clarified, "I meant out of the bathroom."
No response.
No movement either.
With blatant sarcasm, I asked, "Unless it's raining in the hallway?"
"Hey, you never know."
It was then that I realized something. "Wait a minute. You knew exactly what I meant, didn't you?"
"Maybe."
"So…you're just giving me a hard time?"
"Trust me," he said, his tone growing a shade darker. "You could be dealing with a lot worse than me."
He was right. I could. In fact, it was a small miracle that all he'd done was give me a hard time. If this truly was his house, he'd have plenty of ways to make me miserable beyond simple teasing.
But if he thought I was going to show him anything he hadn't seen already, he had another thing coming. "I don't care," I insisted. "Just give me some privacy, alright?"
He still didn't budge.
I sighed. "Please?"
"First, tell me your name."
"Why?" I felt myself swallow. "So you can call the police?"
"Your name," he repeated. "First and last."
Arden Weathers. That was my name. Still, I refused to say it because the last thing I needed now was more trouble. I tried to think. What if I gave him a fake name? Would that do the trick?
Probably not. But hey, it was worth a shot, right?
"Fine," I said. "It's Clara Cooper."
His posture stiffened. "What?"
I felt my eyebrows furrow. Obviously, something had changed, and not for the better. Did he know that I was lying?
Maybe. I bit my lip. But maybe not.
Pushing my luck, I said the name again, this time with more bravado. "Clara Cooper."
His only reply was a single world, spoken almost too low to make out. "Fuck."
Now it was my turn to stiffen. It wasn't just the profanity. It was something in his voice, something new and ominous.
Either he knew that I was lying, or some girl named Clara Cooper had really done a number on him. Either way, this wasn't good.
I held my breath and waited.
Finally, the guy turned – but not toward the open doorway. Instead, he reached toward the sink behind him. While I watched in new confusion, he gave the faucet a hard twist.
As water gushed into the sink, I asked, "Why'd you do that?"
A moment later, I had my answer in the form of icy water shooting from the shower head and pelting my naked skin. With a little yelp, I hollered out, "Hey! What the hell?"
When the guy spoke again, his voice was so cold, it