Page 50 of Haunting the Hunter

Worse than that.

I’m grateful.

My hand finds the pendulum Calli gave me. I rub the chain between my thumb and forefinger, letting the texture anchor me. This isn’t right…

I feel guilty for allowing my own delusions to comfort me. Convincing myself that maybe… it’s okay, as long as it helps.

Climbing back into the truck I sit, wet and still. Minutes stretch as my fingers twitch against the wheel, my gaze fixed on the entrance of the building.

It’s 5:00 a.m. when the doors swing open and a man stumbles out—thrown onto the gravel by two bouncers, who slam the door behind them.

Gray, balding, pinstriped suit. My eyes lock in on him.

That’s my guy. My mind snaps back to the mission at hand.

He staggers to his rusted truck, yelling slurred curses, the engine barely turning over. He drives off—slow and swerving.

He would’ve seen me tailing him if he weren’t so drunk. But watching him try to stay in the lines is almost relaxing.

My focus is broken when red and blues light our vehicles. A highway patrol officer.

Fuuck.

The vehicle pulls in front of me and sounds its siren.

I pull into a gas station and turn my headlights off, letting the night swallow me.

Eventually, the officer drives away with Allen in the back seat, still cursing.

I look up the local station’s location on my phone. The nearest one is in Vegas.

I give them a head start, then follow them into the Mojave.

When I hear the roar of motorcycle engines behind me, I sigh.

Guess we’re doing this.

I pull the truck over to the side of the road and grab my duffel from the back seat, unzipping it. I pull out my serrated blade then shrug on my hoodie, tossing the hood up over my head.

I step out.

Six bikes surround me fast.

I roll my shoulders.

Theo, sobered up just enough to be cocky, pulls a gun and grins when he sees my knife.

“Hasn’t anyone told you not to bring a knife to a gunfight?”

I shrug. “I’ve never needed one.”

I throw the knife.

It hits his eye socket, dead-on. Theo screams, crumples, hits the ground hard. The others rush me. I dodge two, slipping past theirswings, weaving through them like water until I reach Theo. I yank the knife from his skull—blood sprays, warm on my face—and drive it up into the chin of the closest one. I rip it out as he drops.

Another lunges. I roundhouse kick him square in the jaw. He’s out cold before he hits the dirt.

I slit his throat anyway.