Page 80 of The Hunted
“I had a whole bottle of water before you got here.” His gaze shifted off the body and turned toward Santino. “But you didn’t tell me what you think. About the body.”
Santino’s stomach tightened, and his fingers twitched at his sides. It felt like the ground was shifting underneath his feet, and he was trying to get his bearings. His heart was beating a little too fast for comfort. His fight responses were flaring, but he couldn’t figure out why.
He felt Amra’s gaze on him, and he glanced her way seeing her watch them both, her eyebrows furrowed like she was trying to fit together a puzzle piece that didn’t go.
I shouldn’t be here.
The thought popped in his head. He only ever had that thought twice in his life, and both times had saved him from getting caught. He glanced toward Silva to make sure she was still tucked safely in his truck. His heart slowed just enough to ease his shoulders out of his ears, when he saw her chewing on her bottom lip and typing furiously on her phone.
He tried to use her presence to center himself. He tried to focus on what he could control, and that was doing his job. This body wasn’t his, and he was sure it didn’t belong to the Reaper.
But it begged the question, did that mean there was another player in the game he needed to be worried about?
The Reaper flexed their hands, watching the local PD try to keep the on-lookers back behind the caution tape. The news vans were all lined up, camera crews out with their anchorpeople front and center reporting on another dead body. So soon after the body of Denise Miller was found.
Too many back-to-back kills. This is going to draw too much attention.
They could overhear some chatter about the latest victim. She was a woman, appeared to be in her mid-thirties and had cuts on her face. There were marks on her neck and wrists with crushed flowers in one hand. That was as much as the Reaper could get without getting close.
This wasn’t me.
The Reaper mused, watching the way Santino Alvarez kept scanning the crowd, looking for a familiar face he’d never actually recognize. It still pissed them off how Santino hadn’t figured it out. How could he not remember?
Their eyes connected for a breath. The Reaper hoped for a spark of something to appear in his dark gaze.
Figure it out Saint Alonso. Your past will set you free.
His focus was back on the body, his posture rigid and his hands flexed at his sides. There was a certain tension filling the air that made the Reaper feel uneasy.
This wasn’t Santino either.
“There’s another,” they whispered under their breath, wondering what were the odds there was more than one monster lurking in this town. They were after Santino, so they didn’t count, but who was the other one who’d been so cocky to display this body in such a public space?
Weren’t there cameras here?
How easily could they had been caught?
The Reaper let out a sigh, wondering how this new player was going to affect their plans for Santino. There was no way this new player didn’t know about either of them. Was this their way of trying to claim this territory, or were they just saying hi?
Either way, Santino was theirs, and no one would get in their way of finishing what they had in store for him.
“Guess I need to add research to my never-ending to do list,” the Reaper groaned, feeling like they might just have to speed up their timeline.
Stupid newcomer.
ChapterThirty-Two
“We are standing in front of a cafe, reopened and steaming with regulars. Gone is the caution tape and blood that pooled in front of the door. There are no lingering signs of the body that had been dumped there just a couple of days ago. But for some, they can still feel a chill in the air when they go grab their caffeine fix. The body of Leslie Smart, a thirty-year-old yoga teacher, was killed and dumped in front of this very spot. Bringing the total of dead bodies to five. Authorities have confirmed we have a serial killer on the loose, but they’re still no closer to fishing out any suspects. However, an inside source has told News 7 that there may be more than one killer at large.”
Silva looked up from her laptop to watch the news anchor. It was almost impossible for her not to be bombarded by the deaths or conversations revolving around the killers. The last death turned everything upside because of how public a display they had been left in. Even the emails and letters she received for her advice column had been leaning toward safety tips and how to deal with anxiety about leaving home to run errands or enjoy life when it could possibly be their last day.
She ignored those letters both at her boss’s suggestion and because of her own desire to. She wasn’t sure how to tell someone everything was going to be okay or how to take safety precautions when she knew firsthand nothing was foolproof.
“Princess,” Santino’s grip on her ankle sent a liquid warmth through her, causing her pulse to jump, “is the TV distracting you from your work?”
They’d been spending a lot more time together. Time he carved out for her when he probably should have been at his office or out hunting whoever these killers were.
“No, not really.” She looked down at the blank document. She’d written two words, deleted them, wrote three words, deleted those, typed one word, and deleted that. She was distracted but more so by the man who sat on the opposite end of the couch than what was going on out in the world.
