Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
It’s where I feel most at home.
I’m stock-taking today. I’ve fitted a lot of locks recently and need to replenish my supplies, but before I head to my store, I park up and cross the street to the opposite grocery store. I need to purchase my lunch and some cleaning products. The unpleasant side of stock-taking is ridding the store of its accumulated dust problem.
The carts are just outside the doorway, and I take one and head inside. Soft elevator music plays from the speakers in the ceiling, and I drift around, finding the things I need as my mind relives last night’s strange events. I’m next to the meat counter when I hear a voice I recognize.
“Steak and salmon, please.”
When I turn, startled by the familiarity, I come face to face with the Bjorn triplets. I swear the first one to see me growls under his breath. Hunter.
“Hi.” I give them a little wave as my heart does a weird floppy thing in my chest, followed by an attempt to race out of its ribbed prison. They look so unbelievably good and so unbelievably fierce.
A pack of gruff men.
A force to be reckoned with.
Robert has switched his dark pants and sweater uniform to jeans, boots, and a dark navy jacket. Evan has a lighter shirt, and Hunter is all in black. Their liquid chocolate eyes trail over my jeans and pink tank as though they’re mapping all my dips and curves, ready to explore them later. They look as hungry as bears.
I’m not in danger in such a public place, but the memory of last night’s strange eye thing is still fresh, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
Robert quickly puts his hand on Hunter’s arm. He’s slightly broader than Robert, with even shaggier hair than his brothers, and a meaner slash to his lips. Robert has that familiar furrow between his brows. The triplet at the back, who grins devilishly at me, is definitely Evan.
Trying to work out which triplet I’m looking at is like a game of Guess Who.
Is it a man? Yes. Does he look like he wants to crawl into a hole in the ground? Robert. Does he look like he wants to eat your liver? Hunter. Does he look like you just tickled his balls? Evan.
I tell my mind to be quiet as blood heats my cheeks.
“Not here,” Robert hisses at Hunter.
“She’s…we need to tell her.”
Robert shakes his head. “Nice to see you again,” he says to me. “We have to go.”
Hunter’s eyes bore into mine, the darkness in them as unsettling as standing at the mouth of an unexplored cave. His unwavering stare sends a skitter of nerves through me. He has no reason to wish me ill. I’m just a locksmith, and I haven’t done anything to warrant any malice from the Bjorn brothers.
Robert seems to nod his head as if to tell me to move on, so I grab the pack of bacon that I came for and walk away. I don’t say goodbye because it all feels too weird, but as I get ten paces down the aisle, Evan calls out with a sing-song lilt to his voice, “See you around.” I almost jump out of my skin. There’s something definite about his words, as though bumping into each other again is guaranteed.
I pay for my items quickly and then dash across the road, wanting to get into my safe space as soon as I can. Whatever the deal is with Hunter, Robert seems to need to rein him in whenever I’m around. The eye thing, if indeed it wasn’t a figment of my imagination, only happened when Hunter came through the door. Was it him, or something to do with the triplets being together? I shake my head as I unlock my store and shut the door quickly behind me.
The Bjorn brothers ring alarm bells. Maybe it’s the remote place where they live that has gotten me spooked. Or the fact that there are three of them, and they’re so alike. Didn’t triplets used to feature in freak shows? People have always found them a little unsettling.
And yet, I find them strange and magnetic.
The telephone interrupts my thoughts, and I take down the details of yet another emergency lock situation. A man has locked himself out of his home on the outskirts of town. It’s halfway between here and the Bjorns’ mansion. I put my ‘back in an hour’ sign on the door, now my plans for stock-taking are frustratingly delayed.
It takes fifteen minutes to reach the place. It’s isolated, set down on a dirt track behind a wall of swaying trees. My car judders over the rocky ground as my feeling of unease grows. Until yesterday, my safety hadn’t really cropped up in relation to the job I do. I live in a small town that feels comfortable and sheltered from the horrors of the rest of the world, but today feels different. Even though the Bjorns have been nothing but polite, they’re playing on my mind. Everything I think makes them strange could just be my prejudice. I shake my head. They’re just men whose egg split in the womb. Get a grip.