Page 28 of Theirs to Hunt
"I see it," I say, voice low. "I just don't know if I want to run from it or burn with it."
"Girl," Bobbie mutters, clinking her glass to mine. "There's one thing we still don't know."
I glance back outside. I see nothing, but I feel it. A slight prickling along my skin.
"Hmmm?" I murmur absently.
Bobbie grabs my hand, her chocolate eyes meeting mine. "We are a step behind. Do you have two guys or three?
We have Brooks who you have only seen in a lion's mask and his hair was slicked back, so unknown shade or length.
We have Hot Daddy, who we now know is Grayson Calhoun.
And we have a mystery gym god, Rain.
We need to figure where and how to strike next."
Later that night, curled up under my throw blanket with a second Old Fashioned and a stomach full of fries I didn't remember ordering, I do something dangerous.
I think, and I Google, and there are no pictures of Grayson with his son.
Could Brooks be Rain?
I run it all back: the party, the tree, the gym, the meeting.
The lion. The tiger. The man in the hoodie. Rain.
He felt younger than Grayson. Not by much, but enough. And that hair. That voice. The way he looked at me.
I was both prey and prize. That wasn't new. Neither was the way he moved. The same power. The same restraint.
It had been there in the woods, too. Very reminiscent of Grayson and how he moves.
People just want out of his way, while also hoping he notices them.
Is that a hot, sexy guy thing? Do they come with that downloaded? Or is it inherited?
I sit up straighter.
Could it have been the same man?
No. That can't be right.
There were two masks. Two heights. Two sets of eyes.
But then again, have I ever seen more than one of them at the same time?
Yes, under the tree. Lion and Tiger. Brooks and Grayson.
I grab a pen and paper and draw three circles. Label them: Gym God aka Rain, Lion aka Brooks, and Grayson the Tiger.
I stare at the middle one, Lion, and draw a tiny question mark next to it.
Then I draw an arrow from Gym God to Lion. Possibly the same.
I lean back, absently chewing the pen cap.
"Oh my God," I murmur, horrified.
