Page 14 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

How darkly ironic.

“I see.” He raised his eyebrows like a Boy Scout. “Well, I can assure you, we are safe and well.”

“Nonetheless,” she said, “I’ll look around to cover our bases.”

Hunter paused. “Of course.”

What a dangerous game. If he resisted her too much, she might gain enough reasonable cause to get a warrant, and then he’d lose all control over this search. But if he let her look around too much, she might find something…

Is Franco waking up? Will he escape and burst in here?

“Luna, you really should go to the hospital.” Rinaldi glowered at my arm. Franco had used a knife on it earlier tonight, and while the butterfly bandages and gauze the EMTs had put on it worked well, they didn’t replace stitches.

Was she suspicious I hadn’t gone yet?

“I will,” I assured.

From the corner of his eye, Hunter unleashed a sharp glare at me—a silent warning that only an intimate couple could communicate with each other without anyone being the wiser.

I almost couldn’t contain my smirk because I had just created another big problem for him should he choose to hold me hostage much longer. While HIPAA laws in the United States protected patient privacy, hospitals were allowed to disclose minimal information to law enforcement in response to their request about a victim. So, if Rinaldi—troubled enough by the shady events of late—followed up with the hospitals and I’d never showed, well. She’d be worried about my welfare.

And should I turn up dead…guess who’d be first on her suspect list?

“So, Franco wasn’t found?” I asked.

Because guess what? While I could not divulge Hunter’s secret identity or lead them to Franco without risking their lives, Icouldplant little seeds so that if I died, they might come back and investigate more. Maybe with a swat team.

“Not yet.”

“So disturbing.” I shook my head. “What about the Vigilante?”

Another glower from the corner of Hunter’s eye.

“Nothing yet.” She glanced at the officers in the kitchen and dining room. Hands on hips, they scanned every surface, pausing to peer into closets.

I wanted to ask her if she thought the Vigilante and Franco were together, but what if that was too revealing? Too close to endangering her?

Instead, I’d have to shift my verbal warfare.

“That must be so frustrating,” I said.

She pinched her lips. “You have no idea.”

“I’m sure your IT team is checking surveillance cameras in the area of the warehouse, but they’ll probably just see that stupid mask the Vigilante wears.”

Hunter’s head pivoted toward me.

“You would think a criminal who wants to lurk in the shadows would be smart enough to have an all-black mask.” My voice was steady, maintaining a casual air for the officers around us, but there was a biting undertone to my words, laced with veiled sarcasm that would be unmistakably clear to Hunter.

The veneer of calm he presented was betrayed by the slight clenching of his jaw and the barely perceptible narrowing of his eyes.

It took serious effort to contain my grin.

An officer tapped Rinaldi on the shoulder. Whispered something to her. I searched her face for any clue they’d found something but saw nothing.

“Well,” she said, “I should get on with it.”

Once she walked across the room, Hunter slithered his clammy fingers around mine as if he still had a right to do it. I knew it was all for show, to sell the story of two lovers in front of the police, but the feel of his skin—which once ignited a wildfire of warmth and solace—triggered waves of repugnant nausea. It was like being embraced by a decomposing corpse.

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