Page 28 of The Alpha's Grave Secrets

Tonight, the bar is full of beautiful women and men who appear to have money with no problem flashing their Rolexes and wads of cash in their strained money clips. It’s busy, but early enough in the night that I can still keep my eye on Callie without too much of a fight.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, reluctant to take my eyes off the monitors. But Gun’s not looking away, so I spare a glance at my phone.

“Good luck tonight. I’m good for a voice ID if you need it. The house feels lonely without you.” My heart skips a beat as I read the last sentence.Did Elara just tell me she misses me?An involuntary grin spreads across my face as I type back to her.

“I might take you up on that. Hoping we get done here before you fall asleep.”

Immediately, I see the three dots on the screen, indicating that she’s typing. The hairs on the back of my neck raise, and my stomach flutters with excited nerves.

“With all this excitement? I doubt I’ll be able to sleep until I hear everything from you when you return. Now get back to work.”

I ‘love’ the message, and before I can think of what to say back, Gun says, “Here she is,” and I slide my phone back into my pocket.

My eyes flicker back to the screens. All our nervousness was evident when we dropped her off before we left her to get an Uber. But now, Callie carries herself with unnatural grace and poise. Her head is held high, her hips sway effortlessly, and she doesn’t stumble once in her stilettos even as she navigates the crowded bar and sudden movements of half-drunken patrons around her who are paying no attention to their surroundings.

As Callie passes by Hati on his barstool, with his dark hair and fitted but nondescript suit, the two show no signs of recognition, even as Hati gives her an appraising look along with a few of the other single men at the bar.

Her head lifts even further; she’s seen him. She knows she is not alone. A knot in my stomach loosens. He blends in well, nursing a Boulevardier, playing his part perfectly.

Although he’s a good-looking man, he manages to work his body language so that the women around him hardly give him a second glance. Goddess, he’s a master.

Callie’s goal tonight is simple—make herself a target, draw out anyone who seems too interested, anyone who might fit the killer’s profile. We don’t have much to go on, but we know this guy likes to watch, to hunt his victims when they think they’re safe.

Stopping around the side of the bar, Callie captures the bartender’s attention within moments and orders a drink. It doesn’t take long for the bartender to hand her a glass of champagne, refusing her money and pointing to a man at the other end of the bar.

My shoulders tighten, but Callie does not approach. She raises her glass toward the man with a smile, takes a small sip, and then disappears back into the crowd. The man at the bar doesn’t look disappointed either.

This game seems to be his forte, and they’ve only exchanged the first moves. His hair is perfectly coiffed, and his suit looks like it’s been custom-made. A glass of champagne costs nothing to him. I linger on him for a moment.

He pays for another beautiful woman’s drink, this time a redhead, and he approaches her right away. The moment the two start talking, my eyes flicker back into the rest of the bar crowd, spotting Callie quickly as she rests against the wall, surveying the crowd for herself.

“Have you noticed anything out of place yet?” I ask Gunnolf.

“Too soon to say for sure,” he mutters, eyes scanning the patrons. “But that guy by the bathroom’s been staring at her for a while now.”

I shift forward, studying the screen more closely. Sure enough, a guy is leaning against the wall near the back, half in shadow, watching Callie like a hawk. My jaw tightens. He’s handsome in a sort of frat guy way, but there’s something sinister in his aura.

“That’s our first hit,” Gun says, making a note and taking a screenshot of the monitor, sending the photo off to Minna for an ID. “Something is off about him, but that doesn’t mean he’s our killer. He could be your run-of-the-mill creep.”

“True. I don’t think our guys got the looks this one does, but we could be wrong about that in our profile.”

Callie looks in the man’s direction, and he licks his lips, giving a half smile that goes unreturned.

“Minna’s texted back already. This guy’s name is Jimmy Barlow. He has a great credit score and a few drunk and disorderly ones in his past. He’s a renter, not a homeowner, and most certainly the recipient of a trust fund. Lives in a penthouse in the center of downtown.”

“Doesn’t sound like our guy.”

“No, it doesn’t, but I don’t like how he’s looking at Callie right now,” Gun says, jaw tightening.

“I don’t like it either.”

Callie moves from her position against the wall and struts over to the opposite side of the bar, careful not to be distracted by her phone as she passes the man staring at her. He doesn’t follow her after she passes by; instead, he turns his body, keeping his eyes locked on her. My stomach churns, a familiar anger bubbling up inside of me.

This bastard is waiting, lurking, watching. He might not be our killer, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a danger.

Hati’s noticed him as well. He’s perched in such a way on his stool that he can hop up in an instant. “I’m on him,” Hati says into the comm.

I grit my teeth, tension pulling at my every nerve. I can’t say why; he’s not the only one who has had his eyes on her since she arrived, but my gut tells me this guy is bad news.

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