Chapter 2

Weeks went by, but Kirk remained the only one living in the house, and no one else found him strange or intense or was disturbed by his routines. Everyone Felix spoke to lovedKirk. Apparently, he was funny, polite, and helped every single person on the street one way or another.

Felix was the only one who saw him for what he was. He gripped the steering wheel, unable to find a word to describe what it was he was. Too good looking to live alone in a house in the suburbs.

Perhaps Felix was unfair. He’d painted a picture of how his life would play out and having Kirk as his closest neighbor didn’t fit in. One day he’d figure out what was different about Kirk, and when he did everyone would see how he’d fooled them. But, until then, Felix would take his car to work whether he liked it or not.

* * * *

Felix slammed his hands against the steering wheel, his growl of frustration filling the car. The laptop he’d dumped on the passenger seat threatened to slide down onto the floor, and he threw himself over the gear shift to catch it.

If he could strangle Mr. Diaz, his boss, and get away with it, he would. Perhaps he could? Who would suspect the geeky administrative assistant? All he did was keep track of numbers, deadlines, and rules. He was the one keeping the company afloat while the bosses and directors took the credit. Not that he wanted their jobs—figures he understood, people not so much. And in all honesty, he’d be a terrible killer, because he’d analyze the situation to death and end up missing the opportunity.

He’d never be accepted into the secret society of cool assassins and ninjas.

He stared out the window. What if assassins had a secret society? His fingers itched to reach for his phone so he could Google it. He would do it later. No longer would he be surrounded by secret assassins who believed they had him fooled.

The car was a hot box, and he wiped his forehead where sweat threatened to pearl. He squinted at the sun, wishing autumn would hurry up. This sticky heat had to end. With one last glare at the laptop, he turned the key. The air condition spluttered to life, but the air coming out of the vent wasn’t nearly as cold as Felix had hoped. A dull throb built behind his eyes and he ground his teeth.

It should be illegal to dump a shitload of work on someone on a Friday, especially after lunch on a Friday. Felix had things to do this weekend, lots of things. He should…mow the lawn—unless it got too hot, then he wouldn’t. And he should remove Sunny’s cage. It had been two weeks now, he couldn’t put it off any longer—unless he got too emotional, then he’d leave it for next weekend.

There simply wasn’t room for any sales reports, his weekend was packed.

He turned out of the parking lot and steered toward Willow Point and his quiet corner at the end of Silver Row. He might’ve been a little too heavy on the pedal, a little too foulmouthed, and maybe he was gesturing a little too much at his fellow commuters, but once he signaled his turn toward Willow Point calmness settled on his shoulders. It was Friday, the evening was warm, and he could do the paperwork tomorrow morning dressed in nothing but his glasses while slowly drowning himself in coffee if he wanted to.

When he reached Silver Row he was whistling, his hold lax on the steering wheel as he squinted and tried to shield his eyes from the sun with one hand.

There was a bang.

The breaks squealed as Felix slammed his foot down. Cold poured over him.

He’d hit something.

His hands were shaking. He’d never been in an accident.

Maybe it was a ball or perhaps someone had dropped something? His heart thundered in his ears. He hadn’t seen anything. The sun had been in his eyes, but he would’ve noticed if there had been something on the road, wouldn’t he?

He looked out the windshield. His house was right there, less than a minute’s drive away.

On wobbly legs he got out of the car and slowly walked around to the front of it. The first thing he took in was a limp tail. A sob climbed his throat, and he knelt down.

The cat—Kirk’s cat.

Felix wasn’t sure that it was Kirk’s cat, but it was where he’d seen it.

“Hey, kitty, kitty.” He touched an unmoving hind leg, but the cat didn’t react. “Damn, you’re big.” And beautiful. It was spotted and striped like a mix of a tiger and a leopard. The fur was a yellowish brown with black patterns. For a second Felix believed he’d hit a wild animal…could this be a domestic cat?

It was right next to the tire. Had he taken a second longer to react he’d have run over it, not only collided with it. He pulled it forth, dreading to see blood—there was none. The cat looked like it was asleep, but it wasn’t. There was no breathing, and while Felix had no idea how to tell if the heart still was beating, he felt around the body searching for a pulse. There was no sign of life whatsoever.