Page 12 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

My eyes run up and down her body taking in her blatant lack of weapons or any means to protect herself other than the sass.

“Darlin’, I appreciate you being brave, but that just means you don’t see a bad situation when it’s staring you right in the face.” I chuckle.Is she with the police?She doesn’t seem like the type, but this woman’s up to something. Either way, she’s not going to talk to me just because I'm asking her.

“Listen,” I speak slowly. “It’s my birthday, which means I’m in a rather good mood tonight and don’t want to cause a scene; so, listen to me, and I’ll talk slowly to make sure there’s no confusion.”

She rolls her eyes, and I’m partly amused and partly irradiated because she really has no idea the trouble she might end up in once the guys get rowdy.

“I’m going to give you three minutes to turn around and go straight back to wherever the hell home is for you, alright?”

Her lips press tightly together. At least she’s smart enough to understand a threat when it’s given.

“Three minutes?” She repeats.

“Time has already started.” I glance down at my watch, then turn back to her, giving her the courtesy to get the hell out of here, and if she waits a second longer, I might start getting pissed off. “Tick. Tock,” I mutter under my breath. “Time’s running out.”

4

IZZY

Aloud beep rings in my ear from the phone. The call went straight to voicemail.

She’s probably still sleeping.

Leave it to Laina to never charge her phone.

“Hey. It’s me. I stopped by your apartment this morning, but you didn’t answer. Give me a call when you get this. Love you!” I hang up the phone and stare at the police station.

It’s Monday and no part of me wants to step foot in that building.

I grab my work bag, sliding the strap over my shoulder and shuffle out of the car in a pair of my nice dark jeans and blue button down. While walking up to the entrance, I throw my hair up into a messy bun. It’s not like there’s anyone at the station to impress.

I scan my badge at the door and head straight to my desk. I just need to get through the day then I can go home and relax. Maybe read a book or something. Anything to keep myself occupied.

“Morning, Sandy!” I greet the sweet older woman who runs the front desk. She smiles waving me through after unlocking the second set of doors.

“You have a nice weekend, Izzy?” she asks.

“Uh. Yeah. I guess so.”

She gives me a smaller smile that time and returns her attention to the pile of paperwork before her. I pace down the hall, keeping my head down and call the elevator.

Just need to survive today,I repeat. It’ll become my mantra. Maybe I’ll be lucky and Reynolds will be too busy with the case to come in today. That would be a miracle.

When I reach my desk, I set my camera down and sink into the chair with a sigh. I spin back and forth for a moment and absentmindedly check my phone for a text from Laina - still nothing.

I power on my computer and begin sifting through emails.

“Hey, Izzy,” a deep voice behind me calls out. I spin around in my chair. There’s Logan. He’s leaning against the wall staring at me. His shirt’s half tucked and his thinning hair is slicked back. He plucks his glasses off and wipes them off the corner of the untucked shirt before making his approach.

“Hey, Logan,” I say, returning my focus to my computer screen. He leans on the edge of the cubicle. He’s waiting for me to ask him how he’s doing, what he wants or how his weekend was. None of these questions are something I care about asking or want the answers to.

“Everyone’s been talking about the Puppeteer’s return. Did you see the pics Bill got of the crime scene?”

That gets my attention. My eyes snap up to meet his.

“No. He got some?” I ask in a weak voice. Logon nods.

“There’s this one of the marionettes that’s so damn freaky. I hate it. It’s nightmare material. Maxwell thinks they’re haunted. Check this out. He won’t even go into the evidence room by himself with it in there. He made Sandy go in with him.”

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