Free Torture (Siren Book 2) by Katie de Long Page B

alone.
    But more than that, there's the revelation. I knew I'd seen Milla before. Or maybe she has a sister? But in that bar... There's a connection I hadn't seen. The only question is, when the hell was it? Obviously her hair was different, but that just means she dyed it at some point, if it was her.
    It's sobering, that I can't pinpoint it. I've never been the type to avoid indulging in good liquor, and especially after Mom's death, I spent quite a while crawling up a bottle. And while I've done my best to be kind to the women I screw, they all know it's a one-night thing.
    My heart aches, to think of using Milla that way, knowing how resilient and intelligent she is, how enigmatically charming, once you get to know her. Then the ache doubles to guess why she'd let me.  I'd kill to have recovered that memory sooner, when there was still time to apologize for dragging her into this. It's becoming more and more obvious that I'm the target; whoever probably just saw our tryst and made assumptions. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong person, and she may yet die for it. How long ago was it, anyways?
    Her mercurial nature, and unwillingness to open up... it makes sense now. She knew all along that she was there because of me. She just didn't want to be the one to say it. With the loneliness looming, I'd kill to have that memory, to know exactly what her skin felt like against mine, not just in hazy memory, but in visceral reality.
    A distant noise jostles me from my thoughts. It takes me a moment to place it—a scream, from a voice not shrill, nor deep. Allen or Denise, then. I can't imagine Milla screaming like that. I'm up and yelling before I stop to think about it. But the cry is gone before I can even figure out which direction it's coming from.
    Then, there's just the quiet. I'm well and truly trapped. Again .
    Nothing for it but to wait.
     
     

Chapter Nine
    Milla
     
    Maybe for some people, it would be a relief to be home again. Showering regularly, eating warm food hand-cooked, instead of cold sandwiches. But it's felt less and less like home since I started spending so much time aboard the Siren , watching those parasites. I can't even make myself put my filthy pants and shirt in the wash.
    And it's doubly nerve-wrecking, knowing as much as I do. Roane Industries seems to have hushed up Calder's disappearance; either they genuinely think he's off cavorting somewhere tropical, or they have their own reasons for not reporting it widely. It makes me wonder how loyal they really were to him anyways. Would that knowledge hurt? Would it be pouring salt on the wound giving him pictures of them happily grandstanding in his place?
    Still, the routine is welcome, even though my sleep cycle is somewhat off, due to the lack of ability to keep time when I'm with my prey. The herd's gonna get thinned really soon, so I've gotta watch for a few more, to make sure they all know the seriousness of it. There's some addresses I've had a tough time locating, but I'll get there eventually. Not too much rush, all told.
    My second day back, there's a knock on my front door. Since the neighbors usually leave me well enough be, only talking to me when we pass at the grocery store, it's unexpected.
    I open my dad's gunsafe, fingering his Magnum reverently, as I tuck it in my pocket. Better safe than sorry.
    The knocks come again, louder. My hands shake slightly, watching the door rattle on its hinges. It's a painful trigger that I never quite moved past; every time someone knocks loudly, I imagine the door giving way, and the knocker storming in, gun in hand, like the two thugs who murdered Mara.
    “Coming, coming. Jesus.” I yell, turning the burner on low so my food doesn't burn.
    I jerk the door open as far as the deadbolt will allow. “Hello?”
    I know the young man on my doorstep by sight, only. Calder's combined driver and bodyguard. Evan Duran. He smiles at me, as welcomingly as he can, but I know there's a