Page 52 of Hunted

No.

This whole situation is of no interest to me and my towing gig.

Instinctually?

I can’t nod fucking fast enough.

Meeting me in the space between both vehicles, Patrick pulls out his phone and wastes no time bringing up a picture. The instant it’s on the screen, he releases an obnoxious, loud, impressed whistle along with a disgusting lip bite. “Imagine that on your dick, man.”

I don’t have to imagine.

She was there last night.

And I plan for her to be there again when I get home.

“Don’t know what it is about this chick…I don’t know if she has three nipples…a pussy that stays virgin tight…or an ass he was first to call home…or what…But what I do know is he wants her found.” Patrick lets his almost hazel stare find my dark brown. “Bad.”

Which sucks balls for him because we want her with us.

“Like do whatever it takes, fuck the consequences, bad.” The customer tucks his device back in his pants, rubs his hands greedily together, and states, “Alright, fuck, let’s get this shit going. I got a tip that she ate at a diner up the road a couple days ago. I’ve got a feeling they might know where she was headed.” He turns towards his car. “People tend to tell strangers all sorts of shit when they think they’ll never see them again.”

Just like he is.

Except he won’t see me again.

That’s a fact.

Because he won’t be seeing anyone ever again.

Especially not my Rabbit.

I follow him silently over to his vehicle, yet the second he stops, the red cord in my possession is swung around his slender neck. I grip both ends tightly with my curling fists and harshly yank his squirming frame against mine. The cable cuts into his throat right below his Adam’s apple, ceasing any ability to capture more air into what I assume are his burning lungs. Desperate thrashing of his torso comes on the heels of him clawing at the object that’s restricting his breathing, along with violent knocks of his knees into the front bumper happening next, likely bruising the territory in the course of the repeated collision. Stomps and kicks and even a headbutt are attempted to break my unyielding hold, but it doesn’t matter.

None of it matters.

Not his futile croaking.

Not his frantic patting.

Not even the blood vessel that noticeably pops in his eye.

All I give a shit about is protecting those I give a fuck about.

By any means necessary.

Fuck the consequences.

Guess you could say that Rabbit isn’t the only thing me and that rich prick who hired this asshole actually have in common.

Chapter 12

Kipp

“Tell me again why I need to be down here,” Bunny teasingly commands, long jean covered legs dangling over the edge of the counter space she’s occupying, feet swaying along to Hildegard von Bingen that’s playing through the shop’s speakers. “Tell me again why I couldn’t stay upstairs where the air doesn’t smell like spilled oil and stale Cheez-Its.”

“Cheetos.” my correction is attached to a crooked grin. “The distinction is important.”

She tilts her head tauntingly to the side. “Is it?”

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