Page 22 of Hunted Mate
I open the door to my apartment and I know instantly that something is wrong.
I smell vanilla and lilies. I smellwoman.
She’s found me.
It shouldn’t be possible. I have taken so many precautions to ensure that I could not be found. I’m a ghost. I’m untraceable. I’m…
Click.
…about to be shot.
That is the unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked.
“Hello,” Calista says.
I turn the light on, and see her sitting cross-legged on my bed. There’s not much up here in the way of creature comforts, but she’s made the best of what she could. She looks cute there, wearing all black, right down to the socks and sneakers. Adorable.
Her long blonde hair is tied back in a functional ponytail and her pretty blue eyes are focused on me with a narrow stare that is cute on her sweet round face.
The gun pointed at me is slightly less cute, but she has her finger extended along the barrel rather than on the trigger so that’s some small comfort.
“Hello,” I say, standing still. There’s a few feet between us, a little too much distance to try to close in and disarm her. I imagine she took that into account when she decided where to sit in the room. Smart girl. I could ask how she found me, but there are ways to find anybody if you are really dedicated. She must be furious with me.
She parts her lips, and I prepare to be absolutely bombarded with curses and fury for my destruction of her work.
“What about the spiders?”
“Excuse me?” That’s not the question I anticipated hearing from her.
“You killed so many spiders,” she says, her tone starting to hold more emotion. I can see her trying to hold tears back as she speaks, but they fill her voice regardless, no matter how much she tries to blink them back. “You turned the basement into a fireball. It wasn’t a victimless crime. You’re an arsonist, and I am going to fucking ruin you.”
She’s so fierce, and she means everything she says, and that is concerning. She’s still got her finger away from the trigger, though. That’s a small mercy, and one that might change if I do not talk her down.
“Do you care about the spiders this much? Or you care about the fact I took all your research from you?”
“I care that you are a psycho who thinks he can take from me and not suffer,” she says. “I’m not just anyone. I have resources.”
“I know who you are, Callie.”
Her eyes flash furiously at me. “Don’t you dare call me Callie. I have a gun on you.”
“I’m aware,” I say. “But you don’t want to shoot me.”
That finger of hers curls down, away from the safe position and into a much more dangerous place.
“Give me one reason not to shoot you, Mr. I-Don’t-Exist.”
Her eyes have narrowed. Her tone has become even. She means it. I feel it.
“You don’t exist,” she says. “You don’t have any records that correspond to anybody. You’re a ghost. And that means shooting you has absolutely no consequences.”
Her finger curls a little tighter.
I look into her eyes and know that if I do not speak now, she will destroy me. She has the look of a woman who has had everything she cares about stripped away from her and has absolutely nothing left to lose.
I underestimated her. She found me even though I should not be able to be found. She came for me with a weapon.
She leaves me with no option.
