Page 11 of The Hunted
“You won’t find me until I’m ready, Alvarez.” The Reaper slowly shifted back into their hiding spot. Alvarez moved quickly, heading back to his car, no doubt contemplating his next move. The Reaper was curious to see how things would play out. They didn’t think he’d rush to kill Sarah Brown. If he did, it would be an ego-based kill, and while he was cocky, he wasn’t stupid. No, Alvarez was going to hole up in his office to try and figure out exactly who the Reaper was and how they related to him before he made his next move.
If his hunger didn’t override his intelligence.
The Reaper smiled, pulling out a burner phone. It was time to put out the fire that tore through the cabin so they could start a new one.
The sounds of a body hitting the mat repeatedly had Santino pulling away from the punching bag he’d been pounding his frustrations into. The sound had grated on his nerves, constantly pulling him out of his focus. He didn’t want to be here in the first place. He was happily holed up in his office trying to find the missing pieces that connected the Reaper to him, but he’d been dragged to the gym by his coworker, Jordan Martin, after an unhealthy amount of back and forth and persuasion. Sometimes, Santino forgot how to interact and deal with people who needed to feel important.
Jordan was one of those people.
He was loud, always needing to prove he was the best in the room and some sort of God amongst men and women. He was overcompensating for some trauma from which he hadn’t yet healed, and it bled into how he interacted with people. Most days it was hard for Santino to deal with him, and now that he missed two of his marks, he was imagining slicing Jordan’s neck open with a rusty knife.
When was the last time you indulged with someone who wasn’t a stain on this Earth?
The Reaper’s words came back to haunt him. It had been too long since he deviated from his list. It had been too long since he hunted what he wanted to instead of what he needed to.
He looked over at the punching bag next to his, watching Jordan struggle. He could feel his heartrate beat faster, and it had nothing to do with the workout he’d just been doing. He could snap Jordan’s neck, and the rush from watching the light die from his eyes would sate the hollowness gnawing at his stomach. It might even clear his head so he knew how to attack the Reaper head on.
At the very least, it would also alleviate Santino’s need to wear a mask constantly at work. Everyone else left him alone—alone enough that he didn’t have to be “on” all the time.
Well, mostly everyone.
Jordan never read the cues he was given or he just didn’t give a shit. He was on some mission to turn Santino into him.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired.” Jordan chuckled. He turned so he could hold Santino’s bag. “I thought you worked out all the time?” He gave Santino a once-over, a smug smile tugging at his lips as if he wasn’t the one who was dripping sweat and overtly exerting himself going by the uneven breathing.
“Damn it.”
Santino froze at the sound of the familiar voice that vibrated against his skin before the sound of a body hitting a mat echoed around them. His body hardened instantly, and his pulse raced for a different reason now. He turned, following the sounds of grunts and curses like a sailor lost at sea. He moved through the gym, ignoring Jordan’s protests. He needed to be sure his hearing hadn’t been playing tricks on him. He had to see for himself that the woman he ran into the other day was here now, still wreaking havoc on his body.
“Son of a shit. How do you keep countering the move?” she sounded breathless and his feet moved faster, shocked at how that little hitch in her voice made his cock twitch.
“You take your eyes off me for a split second before your feet move, and your feet move before you grab me. You’re making it almost too easy,” the coach responded, “like you want me to kick your ass.”
Santino reached the smaller room where the sparring was happening and leaned up against the door frame. His entire body zeroed in on no-last-name Silva. She was barefoot, her toes painted a sea blue. She wore loose shorts that stopped mid-thigh, and he swallowed looking at her long thick legs. He could see the power in her muscles as she bounced on the balls of her feet. She wore a black sports bra and her hair was in a braid down her back. He could see ink peeking out against her sternum and a bead of sweat dripped down her stomach, disappearing underneath her shorts. It made him shift on his feet. His own shorts tightening as his cock hardened.
It was a weird response. He wasn’t attracted to women the way most men were. Sure, he went out on dates, much to his annoyance. He fucked and knew how his physical appearance attracted those around him, but it had all been a performance.
And he was a phenomenal actor.
His reaction to Silva had been one of sheer body chemistry. He reacted before his mind told him he had to. His desire for her was born of out genuine need, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to fuck her or kill her. Which concerned him more than he cared to admit.
“Which is weird because I know you can put me on my back without breaking a sweat on a bad day. But today you seem to be overexerting yourself,” the coach continued. “What game are you playing, Silva? You looking to spar and keep your skills up, or is there something else going on?” There was suspicion laced in the coach’s words.
There was a slight twitch in Silva’s lips before she spoke again. “Your belief in my skills flatters me. You and I both know you pull your punches when we spar as a means to keep my confidence up.” Her voice reminded him of honey on his tongue—warm and sweet and sparking something inside of him. He also didn’t hear the accent she had when they had run into each other at the café. Either she was trying not to let it slip here or she’d been playing him.
“Where’d you run off to?” Jordan laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, jarring him out of his stance.
His booming voice pulled Silva and her coach’s attention toward them, and Santino gritted his teeth. He wanted to continue watching her in silence so he could understand why his body was reacting to her the way that it was.
When was the last time you indulged with someone who wasn’t a stain on this Earth?
The Reaper’s words flitted through his mind, and he was truly starting to see the merits of acting on the taunt. It would rid him of his self-appointed acquaintance and rid the world of Jordan’s self-importance.
It was a win-win.
“Santino Alvarez?” Silva crossed her arms over her chest. The movement made her muscles pop, and he remembered how they felt under his palm when he grabbed her that first time. Everything about her screamed that she was a fighter.
She wouldn’t go down easily.The thought popped into his mind, along with an image of him finally subduing her. His palms itched even more now to feel her delicate neck underneath them.
