Page 37 of When He Hunts

“I think Marcus was using a tracker to find my location.” The same theory he’d given Kane. “He talked to me just long enough to figure out where I was, probably using that damn new tech of Declan Flynn’s.”

“That shit is problematic.”

“Tell me about it.” Someone would need to rein in Declan, stat. Gray needed to handle that job. The problem? The tech genius had too many connections in this world. Good and bad ones. “Marcus got my location, and then he sent Kurt out to eliminate me. Guessing Marcus didn’t want to pay me the money I was owed.”

“So you don’t think he realizes Luna is alive?”

Ronan hesitated. “He has no proof that she is. I told him I dumped her body in the bayou.”

“He’ll be finding out soon enough that Kurt is dead.”

Ronan smiled. “Good. That should scare the hell out of him. I’ll have vanished, and Marcus will wonder if I’m stalking his ass.”

“Scared people make mistakes,” Gray noted.

“They do.”

“If we had Noah Clyde’s body, this whole damn case would be so much easier to handle.” Annoyance came and went with Gray. “But who the hell knows where he is? Probably cut up into a million pieces somewhere.”

Luna made a rough, choking sound.

“And without his body,” Gray continued grimly, “the case is so hard to make. I’ve had agents on Marcus for ages. People trying to slip into his world. But Marcus keeps staying a step ahead. Winning every damn time.”

Yeah, about that… “I think the bastard might like trophies,” Ronan mused.

Luna’s lashes fluttered.

He reached for her hand. A hand so much smaller than his own. His fingers slid over hers. “Marcus wanted proof Luna was dead. Very insistent about the fact. Wanted me to deliver a piece of her to him.”Never happening.“We all know that some killers sure do enjoy keeping trophies. Might be dumb as hell to keep evidence like that, but with these guys…”

“It’s about compulsion. Not about what is smart or foolish. About reliving the kill. Getting power from the attacks.” A random Gray fact? He had a Ph.D. in psychology and had worked intently for a time in the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the Bureau. He knew his killers and their twisted motivations and desires.

Again, you know the dark, Gray. Don’t let it pull you in too deeply.

“If he is keeping trophies and we find his stash, then we could bury him.” The faintest thread of excitement from Gray.

Better they bury Marcus than have him burying Luna.Or me.“Not like it’s gonna be easy to find.” He released her. Why the hell did he keep touching her? Why did he feel so drawn to her? He needed to stop that shit. Stay focused.

“They never are easy,” Gray murmured, but he already sounded distracted. As if he was busy spinning ideas and plotting in his head—which he probably was. “Stay low until I reach out to you again. Only answer this phone and only pick up calls from this specific number.”

He could manage that. “We’re heading toward Orlando and gonna pick a no-tell motel for the night. Then we’ll reach our destination tomorrow.”

“No.” A sharp retort. “Forget the motel. I’ve got a safe house close to that area. Near the springs. Isolated and equipped with the best security imaginable. Go there for the night. The last time I had a pretend couple staying in a no-tell motel, well, you know what happened.”

I happened.He’d been working undercover on a different assignment. He’d had to rush in and shoot a friend. Not one of his best moments. But he hadn’t shot him with real bullets, so his buddy had only stayed down a short time. Eventually, they’d caught the bad guy so…win?

Tyler Barrett was still pissed about the situation, though. Not that Ronan could blame him. If Tyler knew that Ronan was currently involved in his own pretend-marriage BS, he would laugh his ass off.

Ronan’s gaze cut to the gold ring on his left hand. He wasn’t quite used to the weight of the thing yet.

“I’ll text the address to you. Stay mission focused. Keep Luna alive. And try to keep the body count for everyone else to a minimum, understand?”

He could make no promises when it came to a body count. “Always a pleasure chatting with you, Gray.” He started to disconnect the call.

But Luna’s hand flew out and curled around his wrist. “Grayson, how many cases have you worked with Ronan?”

“He’s not a Fed, Luna.” Gray’s quiet reply. “He’s someone you will never find in any employee database. As far as the Bureau and the CIA and any other government agency is concerned, your new husband does not exist.”

You couldn’t find the paper trail for a ghost. But you could find one for a criminal.

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