Page 40 of Fractured Fear

Rio called me last night and told me to get my ass back to New York ASAP. The case in LA was stagnant anyways. It was clear my guy wasn’t even in the state anymore. He’s yet to kill in the same place twice, so I figured now was a good time to head home for some R&R. And by R&R I mean busting some assholes who think it’s okay to sell people.

“But he said he’d pick up a couple pizzas from Sal’s on his way home to make up for not being here,” Rio adds.

“Meat lovers?”

“Wolf, you know he’s got you.” Rio smirks, knowing he’s ruffling my feathers.

“Stop calling me that.” I say with a growl.

“But everyone calls you that.”

“Absolutely no one calls me that.”

“To your face.”

“Whatever you say, dipshit. Can we get out of here now? I’d like a shower, pizza, cold beer, and a good night’s sleep. In that order.”

“On it,hombre. ¡Vamanos!”

As we walk away, I spot the grabby flight attendant getting onto a hotel shuttle. We make eye contact and she grimaces. Her ego is probably shot, but that’s not my problem. I smile wide and show her the crazy in my eyes. The crazy that comes out when I’m close to catching a perp who enjoys hurting someone smaller than them. The kind of perp who takes what isn’t theirs to take.

Her eyes widen, and she quickly looks away.

That’s right. Next time keep your hands to yourself, lady. You might avoid going home with a serial killer.

Rio rushes me through the parking lot, and we make our way to where he parked my car. With my bag loaded up in the back, we hop in.

Once the doors are closed, his demeanor instantly shifts. Yep, still the same Rio. Hot to cold in a flash.

“So, are you going to fill me in on what’s happening with your killer?”

I mean, one could classify me as such. But people usually call me Asher, shit face, “The Wolf,” apparently, or Special Agent Asher Dawson.

And fucking hell. Rio doesn’t know how to ease into a conversation, not that I expected him to change in the last few months since I’d last seen him.

“We’ll talk about it when we’re with Z,” Rio huffs a frustrated breath so I continue, “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I couldn’t talk about it on the phone.” That’s probably what he’s truly upset about. That I didn’t call and check in.

“That’s what we have the burners for,puto.”

“You can push all you want, but we’re not talking about it without Z. So drop it.”

“Whatever. I’ll drop you off at the house then head back to the hospital.”

Twenty minutes into the drive and Rio still isn’t talking to me. He has perfected the silent treatment. I would know. Once when we were roommates in college, he didn’t talk to me for a week because I ate the rest of the arroz con pollo his sister made.

“Rio, I’m serious. I’m not going to talk about it without Z.”

He gives me a side-eye and keeps driving. This is going to be a long drive.

Welcome home to me.

CHAPTER 16

SPENCER

Is my alarm going off? Did I change the sound by accident? Either way, it’s annoying as hell.

I reach to turn it off, but my arm is caught on something. What the fuck? Peeling my eyes open is a chore, but when I manage to crack them open, I’m met with harsh overhead lights that send a sharp ache through my skull. I hiss at the pain.

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