Chapter 7: This Fantasy Ends Here (Kane) - Once I Find You

“Yeah. I’ll be there Monday to pick you up from the airport, quit your nagging,” I say gruffly into the phone as my truck pulls up to a stoplight.

“Well I don’t want to be alone at the airport waiting. There’s a killer on the loose, you know.” Mason laughs and I click my tongue.

“God, you fucking wear me out. How long are you staying again?”

“Ah, let’s see what happens. Maybe we can be roommates.”

“Not even if pigs fucking flew. I gotta go, I’m parking.”

“Okay, I’ll call to remind you again tomorrow,” he says before hanging up.

Please fucking don’t. I throw my gear shift into park and undo my seatbelt, grabbing my mask and slipping it on over my head and neck. I slide my gloves on as my eyes flick up to double-check the surroundings before I get out.

Well shit, this is a pretty nice neighborhood. Guess I’m not surprised a man like him was able to bribe his way out of the conviction he deserved. I walk down the street, staying in the middle to avoid motion sensor cameras and lights. Should be simple. He’s supposed to be home from work as usual; his new wife is away on vacation according to her social media, and she hasn’t posted pictures of any pets.

I finally get close to the house, looking around as I find a neighbor who seems to not have bright lights on their side yard and slip through there to reach his backyard. It’s…quiet. His car is in the driveway, so he’s definitely here.

Why do I have such a weird feeling about this? Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I’m being extra careful now that I realize I had been careless getting caught on camera, so there’s no way anything can go wrong.

I quietly get to his back door, grabbing my lock pick, but…it’s unlocked? The fuck? Does a pretentious rich asshole like this really just live without fear? I take an extra look around, and open it fully, letting myself slip inside. I close it quietly behind me and turn back around and just listen.

Still quiet. No snoring? No television left on? My brows furrow as I quietly shuffle, rounding the kitchen to the living room. I can feel the hair on my arms raise, and I slowly reach for the tactical knife attached to my belt, unsheathing it and holding it close.

Not a second later, I hear the floor creak in the darkness. My instincts take over as I rush the figure, pinning them to the wall with ease as I hold my blade up to their neck.

“Wait!” she yells.

What the fuck is a girl doing here?

“Shut your mouth,” I say lowly, pressing the blade against her neck without letting it break the skin.

“U-um but there’s really no one here, I swear!” she pleads and I hold position as I turn my head to look around and listen. The smell of vanilla is overwhelming me.

“How do you know? You live here?” I demand.

“No! I-I just um, I guess I…I can explain! I swear Peter Reed isn’t here!”

My jaw clenches imperceptibly, and I stand there. What the fuck do I do? Who is this? I try to think, but I don’t have much time to decide if she’s setting me up. “Prove it. Scream for help. Make it sound real,” I growl quietly into her ear. If this was a set-up, either that piece of shit or the police would come out to help her. She pauses for a second, and I move my knife to remind her I’m not fucking around.

“H-help! Please! Someone help!” she yells, and nothing. I look around, deciding to release her and step back only a couple feet to flick on the living room light and see who the fuck I’m dealing with.

She straightens up, and though her breathing is deep, our eyes meet. Her brown doe eyes stare right into me, and I stop. Shit. She has wavy, bright copper hair, with the front pieces a bright blonde. She’s in a tight black outfit, like some damn cat burglar. And fuck, is it holding onto her soft curves like it was stitched right onto her.

Focus, Kane. You’re so utterly fucked right now.

I don’t know her. She isn’t…related. A young hookup? She can’t be over twenty.

“Who the fuck are you, and how do you know Peter Reed?” I ask, staying far enough away to escape her sweet smell, but close enough that the threat of my knife lingers for her.

“I—okay,” she says, taking a breath. “I um, honestly had a whole thing prepared but now I guess this isn’t going how I planned so,” she says, gesturing awkwardly with her hands.

What in the hell is she going on about? “Get on with it,” I throw out.

“Whew, okay. Let me start over. My name is Layla and…I came here because I needed to find you.”

Find me? No. This girl couldn’t have “found” me. She’s working with the cops. I can’t let myself be taken away because she looks so innocent. I’ll let her go on and see if her body language gives her up.

“I-I know you don’t know me, but you know my uncle. You killed him last year. Jack Ryan?”

Jack Ryan? I think for a moment, and eventually a vague memory surfaces, or at least familiarity. “And? What? Come to turn me in? Cause let me tell you this, little girl, I don’t give a fuck if⁠—”

“No! I mean I came because I wanted to meet you! I needed to thank you, because you saved me. I mean, you totally changed my life. I’ve…been finally able to start healing. I couldn’t have done that without you.”

Her genuine words pierce through me. I don’t let myself think long about the cases; I kill and that’s the end. I forget the names and burn them. I can’t get attached or engrossed because if I do, I’ll relive the feelings of Mel and Sadie all over again.

“You can’t be fucking serious. You understand where you are, don’t you?” I ask incredulously. She nods, looking sorry. I groan and wipe my hand over my face. “Then what the absolute fuck are you doing here? You know what this man did, don’t you?”

“Yes…but⁠—”

“No. No fucking ‘but.’ He’s a serial rapist. What the fuck would you have done if he was here, if he attacked you? Huh? Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if I wasn’t the one who walked through that door?”

She shrugs, her eyes beginning to glisten with unshed tears. Goddamnit. I could never handle women crying.

“Don’t—shit. Look, kid, you need to go back wherever the fuck you came from. I don’t care what your reason is, you’re a fucking liability and I can’t afford it. You’re welcome, hello and goodbye, and whatever else. Okay?”

“I-I’m not a kid,” she says sniffling.

“I don’t have time for this shit. I need you out. Now.”

“No! I mean, at least let me finish!” she begs and moves a step closer. If I was smart, I’d swiftly knock her out and drop her off at a hospital.

“You—”

“Please. I’ve been following your every move for months. I worked so hard for this chance. I swear I only came inside because I saw him leave in someone else’s car, and I knew you’d be here. I would never risk it I promise.”

I take a deep breath to keep myself from saying something I shouldn’t. “How could you have known I was coming here?”

“It was the end of your rotation. I…I figured you were saving him for your next rotation of publicized cases. I mean, I was sure it would be tonight because I know you’re so worried about that photo you probably had to rush it.”

The photo? Jesus Christ. This girl thinks she’s fucking Nancy Drew. “No, fuck the photo. No one is on to me. Except you, apparently. So tell me why I should leave a loose end untied?” I ask as I step closer.

“Me? I would never out you!”

“It’s a matter of time. The longer you stand here, the less I’m willing to leave you alive. You get that, don’t you? I’m a killer. Now get the fuck out before you get hurt.”

“But you’d never hurt me. You only kill the bad guys.”

God fucking⁠—

“I do what I have to do to protect myself. I have shit to accomplish and I ain’t going down just because some kid stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong.”

“I’m not a kid! And I want to help you!”

“Help me? You’re screwing me right now. I don’t care what you say, if you meant it, if you’re really thankful or whatever the hell you think you are. You got it off your chest and I said you’re welcome. Now get.”

“I didn’t even get to finish,” she says softly, wiping the single tear off her cheek.

Of course she has more to say. Do I fucking let her speak? Will it get her out of my hair faster? Can I even handle looking at her any longer without forgetting I need her gone?

She wipes her eye with her sleeve, taking a breath so she can speak again without her voice breaking. “The truth is…I’m in love with you. I’ve been imagining this day ever since you saved me. I um, I didn’t expect it to go like this, but I don’t mind.”

In love? With me? I have to get her the hell out of here now.

I shake my head. “Little girl, you don’t know a damn thing about it. You don’t know the difference between gratitude and love. I’m too old for you, and I don’t do relationships. Not now, not ever. Now that we’ve established that, let’s get you out.” I move toward her, ready to push her out the back door. I grab her by the shoulders and easily move her, though her soft protests don’t relent.

“Wait! But I do! I need to see you again, I still⁠—”

“No means no. Listen when I speak. Hear the words coming out of my mouth, got it?” I hold her there, looking into those damn big eyes again. “You will get in your car. You will go home. You will never come looking for me again. This fantasy ends here. Do you hear me?”

“But—”

“No. I said, did you hear me?” I demand, interrupting her. She nods weakly again, wiping at her cheek. “Good girl. Now go on home.” I finish ushering her out the back door and close it behind her.

Why the fuck is nothing go as I plan? To top it off, my target isn’t here, and now I have to delay this for God knows how long.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What if she gets angry that I rejected her and outs me somehow?

No. She’s smart, but not street smart. She won’t get one up on me. She’ll cry and move on, and I just need to learn to fucking adapt to avoid her and anyone else from ever finding my pattern again.

It’s fine, she’s fucking gone.