Page 109 of Sinner's Sacrifice

“Don’t look,” Sam told him, no sympathy on her face at all. Then she leaned over and planted a kiss on Yvgeny that made him forget all about Lieutenant Benson being in the car at all. His whole body vibrated with the need to do more than kiss her.

Mason began swearing in Hungarian.

Yvgeny pulled his mouth away from Samantha, but he kept his arms around her to keep her close. “What is it?”

“We’re being buzzed by a helicopter,” Mason said leaning to one side so he could look up through the window.

A helicopter?

“A police helicopter,” Mason said with a growl in his voice.

The car suddenly slowed. Yvgeny sat up so he could look out the rear window. The two police cars he’d thought were escorting him and Sam had stopped across the road, creating effective roadblocks.

Cops piled out of the cars and approached the limo from front and back, weapons raised.

Anger rose from the pit of his stomach to scorch his insides, sending his heart rate into outer space. No matter how things played out in the next few seconds and minutes, none of it was going to be fun.

He stapled a smile onto his lips. “Lieutenant Benson, care to explain?”

Benson had his gun out and pointed, not at Yvgeny, but at Sam.

“Point that thing at me, not her.”

Benson grunted. “Not much point in aiming it at you, is there?” He angled his head toward Sam. “She’s still a normal human being.” Disgust wrinkled his nose. “Not whatever you are.”

“Benson,” Sam said, her voice the one she used when trying to help someone who needed calming. “What are you talking about?”

Benson chuckled, an icy, hard, and sharp sound. “She still doesn’t know? When were you planning on telling her?”

“Tell her what exactly, Lieutenant Benson?” He needed to know what Benson knew before he made his next move.

“That you’re bulletproof. You survive wounds that would kill a normal person, and you heal in minutes what would take weeks or even months for a normal person.”

Yvgeny glanced at Sam. She was watching Benson, her face closed down to the point she showed no emotion at all.

She only looked like that when she was contemplating murder.

“You look like you’re in shock,” Benson said to her. “I know the feeling. The first time I saw footage of what he and his cousin could do, I thought it was special effects.”

Benson, however, didn’t know her well enough to know she was plotting his murder.

“How do you know it wasn’t?” Yvgeny said.

“You got shot in the back, yet here you are, happy and healthy.”

“He’s wearing a ballistic vest,” Samantha said. “It’s why I wasn’t demanding an ambulance for him.”

“And you bought that story?”

“He showed it to me,” she retorted. “And wearing a vest is a lot more believable than whatever you’re suggesting.” Her tone said she thought he was an idiot.

“I watched one of them get shot in the chest six times,” Benson snarled. “No heartbeat, no breathing for several minutes. Then the bastard woke up and proceeded to kill everyone in the room, drink their blood, and eat their flesh.”

“That’s crazy,” Sam said. “You know that, right?”

“Indeed,” Yvgeny said, rolling his eyes. “Cannibals are notoriously picky eaters. For example, I only eat people with sriracha sauce.”

Benson looked between the two of them, frustration making him look like a boiling pot about to blow its lid. “I can prove it,” he said.

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