“Oh papacito!” The older woman made a show of fanning herself. The younger one giggled and sent me a look of approval.

He was a killer. Didn’t they see that? Didn’t they instinctively fear him? They should.

They were stupid. Ignorant.

Raize was dripping in so much blood, he had no soul anymore. I railed at them silently, screaming inside my head. Why couldn’t they feel that from him?

I stiffened, and Raize shot me a look, his hand pressing more firmly against my back. But neither of us said a word.

I walked briskly out of there, but not before pain sliced through me as a memory flashed before my eyes.

I was standing in a clothing store’s dressing room.

I was bored. I wanted to leave, but I had a book in my hand. I gripped that book tighter and tighter.

“What do you think, Friend?” She winked at me. Friend. It was our ‘code.’

The dressing room door swung open, and my sister came out, her hands on her hips, and struck a modeling pose—

No!

I would not let myself remember. If I did… I couldn’t.

Acid filled my mouth, but I swallowed it, shoving it down, down, so far down that I wondered how deep my tunnel went. Beyond my soul, beyond my body, all the way down into hell, that’s how far it went.

I moved left, following the aisle, but Raize shifted and pulled me into the underwear and bra section. We were alone.

He stepped in, crowding me with a hand on my hip, holding me in place. “What’s your problem?” His breath teased my neck and ear.

I couldn’t suppress a shiver, but he didn’t move back, and I didn’t step away. “Nothing.”

He pulled me against him, my side pressed to his chest. His fingers held my chin, and he angled his head to inspect my face. “What just happened in your head?”

“Nothing.”

He knew I was lying. My mouth was so tight, my teeth were grinding so hard that my entire face hurt.

“Stop.” He nodded to my mouth. “That’ll give you a migraine.”

“Like you care.” I snorted before I could stop myself.

Raize released me, stepping away. “No, but you will when you’re doubled over, puking in the bathroom. You’ll be vulnerable when Cavers might be around.”

God. I gritted my teeth again.

He drenched me in boiling water with that reminder. Never be vulnerable. I’d forgotten. At some point, with Jake asking me personal questions and Raize acting like he gave a damn—I’d started to soften. I could never do that either.

I was like that grandma and her granddaughter. I was being stupid, reckless, forgetting who Raize really was.

I pulled away, and knowing he’d steered me here because these were the last items we needed, I reached out and grabbed whatever was hanging in front of me. A pack of underwear, two sports bras. Some socks. We were good to go now. In the basket were two pairs of jeans, a few shirts, a sweatshirt, and now my underclothes.

Raize was still studying me, but when was he not?

He nodded and started for the front of the store.

I followed, not saying a word.

He took one detour, putting a pair of sneakers and sandals into the basket, and then we went to check out. Once everything was rung up, Raize pulled out cash to pay. He paused, reaching out to snag a pair of sunglasses. He added that to the pile.

Raize handed all of the bags to me, walking ahead of me once again.

I frowned, staring at the sunglasses. He’d added those for me, and I looked up as he pulled his own out and slipped them on his face.

“What do you think, sis?”

I rocked backward, the memory picking back up.

I couldn’t shove it down, and I was helpless to stop as it played out in my mind.

I looked up, seeing my sister in jeans that were skintight and a top that wasn’t a top. It was a bikini. She grinned at me, wiggling her hips as she did a slow circle. The tattoo was new on her side, so it was still bandaged.

I hated seeing that tattoo. It was his claim on her, like she was his property.

But before I could tell my sister she looked beautiful, because she always did—she was popular for a reason at school—he spoke up. “Those pants make you look fat. Pick something else.”

My sister’s smile fell flat and she swallowed. “Right.” She hung her head and went back into the dressing room. The door shut quietly, a slow click, and I hated that almost as much as I hated him. My sister never shut a door slowly, carefully. She rushed through life with a zest that was annoying at times. She was a force.

The way that door shut? There was no force there.

He was taking that from her.

I didn’t let myself look at him. If I did, I was going to smack him in the head with my book, and I wouldn’t stop.

A tear slid down my face as the parking lot swam into focus.

I should’ve looked at my sister’s boyfriend. I should’ve smacked him with the book, and I should’ve kept going until he was dead.

I hadn’t wanted to go to jail.

What a silly notion now.

13

Carrie

Raize parked, and when we got out, I was surprised to see him putting his gun in his seat’s zipper pocket. He held his hand out. “Give me your gun.”

“What?”

A few people walked past us on the sidewalk. They looked exhausted—maybe commuting for work. None of them were looking at us. In fact, I got the feeling this was a neighborhood where people minded their own business.

“I didn’t bring it.”

I ignored the flash in Raize’s eyes and started for the end of the truck.

“Stop.” He hooked his arm through my elbow, moving me closer as he reached inside and took his gun back out. He snagged the sweatshirt he’d just bought me and handed it over, unlinking our arms. “Put this on.”

I frowned. “It’s hot out.”

“Put it on.” He was back to being monotone.

I did, and then sucked in my breath when he reached for me, his hand snaking up through my shirt. “Hey!”

He ignored me, and I felt him putting his gun on the inside of my bra where there was some extra cushion in the sweatshirt. That’s why he’d bought this particular sweatshirt.

I tried to stop myself from glaring at him, but it was hard.

Everything he did was for a reason, an angle. He hadn’t bought me clothes to be kind. He’d bought them as an extra place to hide his weapons.

Raize stepped back, looking me over before giving a nod of approval. “They’ll run their hands down your back, but the hoodie should bunch up. They won’t do a thorough job with me there.”

I eyed him as he looked toward a building. “Why won’t they do a thorough job with you there?”

He lingered on the building for a moment. One story. Flat roof. The outside was of faded red brick. There were two narrow windows on both sides of the door. Both windows were blacked out. The door didn’t look any better than the brick. It was painted in velvet red, but the paint job was old and chipped.

He looked back to me.

Heat flashed in his gaze, and I almost stepped back. Tingling shot through me—what the hell was that? He smirked. I’d never seen Raize smirk before, but there it was. That’s how he looked hot to so many women. I saw it in that second, until I looked up and his eyes were still dead. That snuffed it out.