20: TATTOOED SEX GOD

PEBBLES' POV

My ears registered the click of the switch while my heart practised for a championship boxing match in my chest. The lights didn't come on too bright; I was still squinting my eyes to see the intruder. He had on a heavily decorated shirt. He moved his hand, and I panicked. “Don't move,” I waved around the knife like a psycho.

“Ohhh, I'm scared,” he gasped mockingly. Was he making fun of me? “Pebbles, please put the knife down — unless you intend to use it to spread butter over my buns, then I'm down.”

What?

I looked at the blade in my hand. Of course, I grabbed the butter knife. How embarrassing. I dropped the knife in the sink. Maybe he was Bradley's son, but you never could be too sure. I grabbed the butter knife again. “Who are you, and how do you know my name?”

“I followed you from Palm Beach.” Shit! Shit! Sinister must have found me. I'm dead, I'm so dead. “Easy with the crazy eyes, cowgirl. I was only kidding. I am Ace, Bradley's son. Now can I turn the lights up,