Don't Look (Pike, Wisconsin #1) - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,78

me. Stupid brats.

Every kid thinks they’re misunderstood or bullied or harassed.

Except for me. Don’t get me wrong, I was brutalized, but that was a gift from my drunken loser of a father, not my peers.

No, to the other kids I was invisible. I could walk by and not one person would notice I was there. Like I was so worthless they couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge my existence.

Can you imagine what that does to a person? Being ignored is the worst. Who cares if you’re mocked for wearing the wrong clothes or pushed in a locker? You can heal hurt feelings or a few bruises. No, being ignored erases you as a human being.

You’re nothing.

You don’t heal from that.

And then there are the lucky few.

The ones that shimmer and glitter and steal all the attention. They suck it away like a black hole. But do they appreciate what they have? Of course not. Arrogant asses.

They moan and groan and pretend life has been so difficult. And worse than that, they demand constant pampering. As if we were all put here to tend to their needs. Petulant children tossing tantrums.

Ah, but sometimes it’s dangerous to get what you want.

Just ask Nash Cordon.

No, wait. You can’t. He’s dead.

And you know what? It turns out he wasn’t ’t nearly so eager to be the center of attention as he pretended to be. Not when it included my personal touch.

Plus, I’ve discovered something interesting. Death is even sweeter in the dark. You can’t see, which is a pity, but there are other senses. You can hear the crunch of bones breaking. And feel the soft flesh yielding beneath a sharp razor. And smell the copper tang of blood as it pools on the dusty cement floor.

And the screams.

Nothing is more sexually fulfilling. I touch myself in private places as those screams echo in the depths of my soul.

Nash Cordon will have one more moment in the limelight and then he’ll fade into obscurity.

Crimson blood stains the pure white snow. Life spills from warm to frozen. Don’t look. The pain is gone.

It was still pitch-black outside as Lynne finished dressing. Pulling her hair into a high ponytail, she left her bedroom and headed into the kitchen. It was no surprise to discover that Kir was already there along with a drooling King, who was watching him butter a stack of English muffins. She’d smelled the coffee while she was still in the shower.

Her heart did a funny flop as Kir turned and smiled. He was fully dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, but his jaw was shadowed with a morning stubble and his hair was mussed. She’d never seen anyone look more gorgeous.

“You don’t have to get up at this ungodly hour, you know,” she said, her voice breathless.

He shrugged, handing her a mug. “I always wake up early. Besides, I’m discovering an addiction to sharing coffee with a beautiful vet before sunrise.”

She blushed. Compliments always made her feel awkward. “I’m not beautiful.”

He placed a muffin on a plate and set it on the counter next to her. “That’s a decision I get to make, not you.”

“Oh really?” She nibbled the muffin and sipped the hot coffee. She’d never taken time for breakfast. She showered, pulled on her clothes, and headed for the clinic. Now she realized there was something special about this time of day. A promise of a new beginning with a man who filled her kitchen and heart with a warmth she’d never expected.

“Yes, really.”

She held his gaze as she polished off the muffin. Then she set aside the plate. “You might be the boss in Boston, but this is Pike.”

He arched a brow. “So who is the boss in Pike?”

“Maybe we can be partners.”

“Partners.” His eyes darkened with an emotion that made her heart do another flop. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

Kir turned to place his mug on the counter, a hint of purpose to his quick movements. Was he intending to pull her into his arms? Maybe kiss her until she forgot she had a full schedule waiting for her?

She shivered with anticipation, but even as he started to turn, Kir came to a sharp halt.

“What’s that?” he demanded, glancing out the window over the sink.

Lynne pressed against his side, her mouth dry with fear. “What? Where?”

“That light.”

Lynne frowned in confusion. “The streetlights?”

He pointed upward. “No, in the sky.”

Lynne leaned forward, studying the glow that was reflected against the lingering darkness. It wasn’t the hovering