Page 65 of Hunting Justice

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Jack clenched his jaw and pounded on the arm of his easy chair in his living room. How had the doctor survived? Jack had skills. His daddy had taught him to hunt, and the internet was a treasure trove of information. Not to mention his mentor. The only answer to the failed attempts was that the doctor was the luckiest fool alive.

He’d followed the man home to discover the lady security guard watching the house. Sure, he could sneak past the woman, but he decided to wait for another opportunity to take the man out.

Ken had royally messed up his plans. Why did the man have to grow a conscience?

Jack took a sip of his Coke. Normally, he’d add a little extra kick to the drink, but until he eliminated the one person who could expose his secret, he had to keep a clear mind.

The TV droned in the background, and a couple of dogs barked outside. Jack stared at the wall, formulating his plan for tomorrow, and the end of Dr. Harris. With the doctor gone, he’d be free to focus on his next victim. He couldn’t ignore his responsibility. The women who seduced men had to die. Only one failure marred the mission, and that one was his father’s. The one that got away. Someday he’d find her and finish what dear ol’ Dad had started. But he’d save that for later. The doctor took priority.

Tomorrow, he’d follow the doctor and end his life once and for all, eliminating the potential for evidence against him.

Stupid Ken had killed his friend. He just hadn’t realized it. It was all Ken’s fault Dr. Harris’s life had to end.

FOURTEEN

TUESDAY, 9:00 A.M.

Armed with facts about tattoos and the shops that Raven had suggested, Noelle parked her car in front of the Ink Shop and turned off the engine. The time she’d spent with Jonah last night had soothed her battered nerves from yesterday’s truth session and his near-fatal encounter. No one had ever treated her the way he had. Working side by side, fixing dinner for her, and snuggling on the couch while watching a movie had her off balance—unsure how to process the evening.

“Before we go in there, thanks for last night.”

Jonah flicked off his seatbelt and shifted to face her. “You don’t have to thank me. I enjoy your company.”

“It’s…” How did she say it without sounding stupid? “I don’t know how to do this relationship thing.”

“You’re doing it just fine.” He brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “There’s no right or wrong. There’s only what works for us.”

Thirty-two years old and she’d only had one date and one kiss in her life—until this week. She’d missed out on so much because of the creep who’d planned to kill her.

“We’ll go slow. I refuse to rush you into more than you can handle. If hanging out and holding hands is your limit, then that’s what we’ll do. I’m too old to care about what’s normal. We do us.” Jonah cupped the sides of her face and kissed her forehead. “Come on, before you overthink things.”

Her mind scrambled to process his words. She shook off the disorientation. “Wait there. Let me make sure it’s safe.” She exited the car and scanned the area for threats. Once satisfied, she skirted the vehicle and opened his door. “We’re good.”

Jonah stepped onto the sidewalk and slipped off his sunglasses. “You take the lead. If you want to switch, give me a nod.”

“Thanks.” It couldn’t be easy to be a take-charge man and let a woman protect you. Not that Jonah was sexist, but he was a protector, and she could see the struggle written on his face. “Let’s go.”

They entered the shop and moved to the counter. Designs lined the walls—everything from skulls to crosses, including a wicked-looking devil that gave Noelle the creeps.

“May I help you?” A man with a full-sleeve tat of angry clouds that started at his shoulder and merged with lightning bolts streaking down his arm, ending at his wrist, interrupted her perusal of the artwork.

“I hope so.” She retrieved her phone from her back pocket and swiped to the photo of the Chinese symbol. “Do you have or have you had anyone that might have done this ink?”

The man studied the image. “Not much to go on.” He scratched the stubble on his jaw. “Can’t say it’s any of my artists.” He straightened. “Sorry I can’t help.”

“Thank you for trying.”

The man pointed to her phone. “If you’re interested, I can do that for you.”

His offer sucked the air from the room. Noelle’s heart rate spiked. The idea of the needle and another tattoo on her body sent bile churning in her belly.

Jonah’s hand rested on her lower back. The warmth grounded her in the moment.

“I’m good. Have a nice day.” She strode to the door. The urge to run—overwhelming. But she held back. She had a job to do. “Stay here for a second while I take a quick look around.”

The pressure on her back, a silent acknowledgment.

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