I met his gaze straight-on, refusing to be intimidated. While I was at it, I also refused to be intimidated by his insanely long eyelashes, that full mouth, or his finely cut muscles – the ones that made Chester's look like budget beef in comparison.
Still gripping my hand, the painter turned back to Chester and gave him a final warning look. And then, he turned away, guiding us toward the Camaro.
As we moved, I snuck a quick glance over my shoulder. Chester was still staring, and hestilllooked perplexed.
Yeah, I knew the feeling.
Chapter 11
A minute later, I was sitting in the passenger's seat of the Camaro, watching as the painter shut my car door and then circled the Camaro's front to claim the driver's seat.
When he closed his car door, I blew out a shaky breath.No turning back now.
Behind us, the pickup was still there, with its engine running and headlights blazing through the Camaro's back window. I turned in my seat and gave the truck what I hoped was a cheery wave. Under my breath, I said, "Alright guys, just go already."
Next to me, the painter eyed the truck in the rear-view mirror. "Don't bet on it."
"Why not?"
"My guess? They want us to go first."
I gave him a sideways glance. "So…Should we? Go, I mean?"
"Not yet."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because I don't want them following you."
"Oh." I hesitated. "Honestly, I don't think that matters. I mean, Chester knows where I live, so…" I shrugged and let the sentence trail off.
"So…?" the guy prompted, as if waiting for me to finish.
I hadn't planned on finishing. I mean, what could I say? Still, I tried again. "I just mean that if he wants to find me, he wouldn’t have to actually follow me to do it."
The painter was still looking in the rear-view mirror. "Youwanthim to follow you?"
"Not really." I tried to laugh. "But he's harmless. I knew him back in high school." I snuck another quick glance behind us. "It's been years since I saw him last. If he really wanted to bother me, he would've already."
The painter pulled his gaze from the mirror and gave me a long, sideways look. "Seemed like he was bothering you tonight."
"Yeah, but that was just a fluke, you know?"
Even as we talked, it struck me that this whole thing was decidedly off-kilter. IknewChester. He'd grown up a few miles from here. His dad was the local chiropractor, for cripe's sake.
But this guy? The painter? He was practically a stranger. He could be an ax-murderer for all I knew. After all, he did "slaughter" people.
I bit my lip.What the hell was I doing? Probably, I shouldn't even be sitting here at all.
Trying to get a grip, I reminded myself that Mike had recognized this guy. That pretty much guaranteed my safety, right? I mean, no one would slaughter a girl they'd just been spotted with in public.
I swallowed.Would they?
From the driver's seat, the painter said, "If you need 'em, there's nunchucks in the glove compartment."
I gave a little jump. "What?"
His gaze had already returned to the mirror. In a deadpan voice, he said, "Just letting you know."
