Carter Reed

life, but I’d never feared him. This was the Cold Killer. He was in the same room as me. I had sought this out.
    “He wasn’t.”
    I waited. One second.
    Then two. Then a minute.
    He was so quiet. “Who mugged your brother?”
    I spat out, “He wasn’t mugged. He was killed.”
    My chest was heaving as I remembered that day. A sick helpless feeling came over me. I couldn’t do anything. I wanted to, I wanted so desperately, but AJ shook his head. He didn’t want me to help, but for a moment I considered it. I thought about crawling out from behind the vent so I could die with him, but I knew they would’ve done something worse to me. So I stayed.
    The old sobs were there again. I felt them climbing up, ready to come out again. I gritted my teeth and pushed them back down. I wouldn’t cry, not here, not if this Carter Reed was going to kill me. He wasn’t the same guy that I remembered. That Carter never would’ve done this to me, set me up, isolated me, and then started an interrogation.
    “How?”
    “How what?” Anger was starting to boil in me now. How dare he?
    “How did he die?” He never reacted. His voice grew colder, quieter, each time he asked. He wasn’t human. He didn’t sound like it.
    “With a bat!” I yelled at the dark room. “A fucking bat. They killed him with a fucking bat and I saw the whole thing.”
    I bent over and pressed my forehead to my knees. I had hoped that they would be cold, that they would cool me off, but they weren’t. My jeans were warm and sweaty. I could smell traces of blood still on them, though I had showered…hadn’t I? I didn’t remember anymore. Was Mallory’s blood still on me or was that Jeremy’s? Was their blood ingrained with me now? I gasped for breath. A part of me wanted to still have Jeremy’s blood on me. He deserved to die again. He deserved to die a worse way than a bullet to the head.
    I didn’t know how long I stayed like that. The room remained in silence and then it was flooded with light.
    I fell to the side and closed my eyes against how sudden it was. It blinded me. When I opened them, with my chest still heaving and my heart still pounding, I still wasn’t ready to see him. But there he was. Carter Reed.
    I stopped all thinking, all feeling, as I took in the sight of him.
    He was perched against the glass wall, his arms folded over his chest, and his icy eyes focused on me. They were piercing blue, like a wolf’s, and he never blinked. Not when I roamed over the rest of him. His dirty blonde hair had been kept long when we were kids. He would tuck it behind his ears and let it grow until an inch above his shoulders. That’s how he liked it, he told me once. It was cut short now, but it suited him. A vacuum effect had taken over my oxygen. I couldn’t seem to get enough as I realized that the last few times I had seen him didn’t do him justice, not when I saw him up close and personal now. His high cheekbones led to an angular face, which moved to lips that seemed perfect. He had long eyelashes that were curled with a natural perfection that females longed to have. He straightened against the wall, but still remained against it. His shirt slid across his chest and shoulders, across the canvas of muscles. He had sculpted his body into a weapon. He had done it on purpose.
    Shit. He was perfect. And he was a killer.
    I wet my lips and then gasped as I realized what I had done. I couldn’t have done that, not here. No way. But I had, and a small smirk appeared on his face. He knew the reaction he was getting from me. I tried to stomp it all down, but it didn’t. I became wet between my legs and a slow throb started.
    I tore my eyes from his. It took a concerted effort from me, but then a low, smooth chuckle came from him. “No one knows how AJ died except his sister. I needed to make sure it was you.”
    He had to make sure? He was wary of me ? The irony wasn’t lost on me. He was the killer. I was not. But no, I sobered at that thought. I was a killer too.
    “Yeah, well…it’s me.”
    He pushed up from the wall and strolled around to the openings of the couches, two steps above me. He gazed down at me, and then gave me a brisk nod. “Stand up.”
    I did. Reluctantly.
    His eyes slid up and down me. It was an intense perusal, slow and steady. He didn’t miss a thing. His eyes lingered on my knee, where I knew some of my tears had fallen before I stopped them. Then he instructed, in that same cold and detached voice,