Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“No. That’s not what I meant.” He squeezes my hands. “You see a lot of bad things that vigilante justice can’t resolve.” He shakes his head. “Jesus Christ, you told me you have an entire month dedicated to funerals for teenagers because they’re all driving drunk after proms and graduations, for fuck’s sake.”
“Sometimes the one who caused the accident survives…but they don’t really fit my criteria.”
He blinks and stares at me.
“Although,” I continue, turning the idea over in my head. “A repeat offender…that might be a different story.”
“All right. Easy,” he growls. “I wasn’t trying to give you any ideas. I don’t want you risking your freedom more than necessary.”
Now that I’ve had the thought though, I can’t resist it.
No.
I always told myself I’d stick to one thing. Jigsaw’s right. I’m not a comic book anti-hero. I can’t punish everyone. Stay in my lane. Stick to my criteria, it hasn’t led me astray yet.
After breakfast, I have to run downstairs to set up the viewing room. Unease rolls through me as I step into my closet to get dressed. Jigsaw hovers outside the door, his keen gaze focused on me as I choose a somber black skirt, thin, dark red sweater, and black blazer.
“Guess you’re never setting foot in here again?” I ask.
A sharp scowl darkens his expression.
Great, now he thinks I’m insulting him. “I meant because of my ornaments, not that you don’t like enclosed spaces…” Damn, what’s wrong with me.
“No. You’ll have to give me a tour one day.” He wiggles his fingers toward the closet door. “Show me what’s in the weird, hidden little door space back there.”
Shocked, I let out a snort of disbelief. “You sure got a lot of snooping done in a short amount of time.”
“I wasn’t snooooping.” He draws out the word as if he’s offended. “I was curious. There’s a difference.” He zigzags his finger through the air. “The house design is wild.”
“Oh. That’s true. It’s nothing. Just like a little mini closet where I keep some…supplies and a few other…oddities.” And a collection of newspaper articles about all of my victims.
He nods slowly. “It wasn’t just the confined space. It was—”
“Finding out your girlfriend’s a serial killer?”
“You’re not a serial killer,” he says in a much more patient tone than I think he’s feeling based on his lingering scowl. “You’re motivated by justice, not personal gratification.”
“That’s true. So what were you going to say?”
“The Bible quotes.” He shivers with disgust. “When I was little, after a beating, my father would read lengthy passages from the Bible to us. When I was older and he graduated to whippings, he nixed the biblical story time, so a bit of an improvement,” he finishes with a strained laugh.
The clothes in my hands flutter to the floor and I hurry to throw my arms around his middle. “I’m so sorry. I was just…you kind of surprised me. I didn’t expect…I mean, I wanted to tell you but—”
He wraps his arms around me tight, cutting off my bumbling explanation/apology. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.” He pulls away, still keeping his hands on my shoulders. “You wanted to tell me what?”
I tilt my head toward the closet. “That. Not yesterday or today but, you know, eventually.”
“You trust me that much?”
He hasn’t given me a reason not to, yet. “Yes.”
His lips part as if he has something to say, but then he shakes his head and hugs me again.
Gretel bursts into the room, loudly announcing her arrival.
Laughing, I back away from our embrace. “I think she’s playing alarm clock for me. I need to get dressed.”
“Do you need help this morning?” he asks.
“No, you can hang out here.” I drop onto the bed and roll my stocking up my leg. Maybe he wants this chance to escape after everything he learned about me yesterday. “If you want to.”
Keeping his gaze focused on my hands as I work the thin black material over my knee, he leans over and scratches behind Gretel’s ears. “I don’t mind hanging out with G-kitty for a bit. But it sounds like you have a busy day.” He stands and flexes his biceps. “Let me get the grunt work done for you. Put these to use.” He pats his upper arm.
Laughing, I stand and shimmy into my skirt, tugging at the zipper in the back. Having him watch me get dressed is messing with my motor coordination. “I’d be silly to turn down that offer, wouldn’t I?” It would be a big help. My father and Paul are busy until later this morning.
He spins one finger in the air, urging me to turn around. I grab my sweater while he tugs at the skirt and slowly zips it into place.
“There.” He pats my behind. “I hope you understand how painful it is to watch you put clothes on, let alone help.”