The only proper night’s sleep she’d had in weeks had been on Saturday night, after Sloan had taken her to the club. She’d slept like a baby. Too bad they couldn’t play every night.
If James was around, he could help with that. If James was around, she’d probably sleep anyway. Because he the main reason she felt so stressed. They hadn’t seen or heard from him in two weeks, and it was killing her.
She bent over, her head throbbing.
“That’s right, bend right over, flower.”
What?
She jumped up, swaying a little as her head protested. She blinked to clear her blurry vision. Crap, this migraine was coming on faster than she’d hoped.
“Mike? What did you say?”
“I said, bend right over so I can get a good view of that delectable ass.”
Um . . . what? That was something she’d expect from Gary, but not his dad.
“Mike, are you feeling okay?”
“Oh, I’m feeling just fine, little flower.”
Her blood ran cold. “Wait. It was you? You left the flowers?” Her heart raced, nausea making her stomach roll. It had been Mike? She didn’t understand. What about Alan?
“Beautiful, sweet Kinley. I’ve wanted you from the moment you turned up here. Looking so desperate and lost. I knew you’d be perfect.”
“Perfect for what?” She took a step back.
“To replace my own sweet Catherine, of course. God rest her soul.”
She wanted to make a run for it, but he stood between her and the door, and while he might be short, Mike kept himself fit.
Oh, God, why didn’t I see it?
“Mike, I have a boyfriend. I live with him now.”
“Did you like the flowers I sent. I got that boy to deliver them. The one who looks like a man but is just a child.”
Oh, God, poor Alan. He’d probably had no idea.
“I thought you ran from me when you were ill for two weeks. I was worried you were gone for good. But you came back to me. You came back to me, little flower.”
Okay, so he was freaking deranged. How could you work with someone every day and not see they were mad?
“Mike, I have a boyfriend,” she said more firmly.
His face grew a purplish-red as he scowled. “Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of him.”
Taken care of him? What the hell did that mean? Panic filled her, making it harder for her to think.
“He won’t be a bother to us any more, little flower. You can be mine.”
What had he done to Sloan? The band around her head tightened painfully. Blackness gathered in the edges of her vision, and she swayed, reaching out for something to hold her up. Strong hands gripped her waist.
The scent of onions hit her, making her gag. Oh, God, she was going to vomit.
“Come here, little flower.”
“No!” she screamed, pushing at his hold. Shit he was strong. Too strong. She couldn’t fight him.