Page 56 of Haunting the Hunter
The warmth fades, almost as if you are shrinking away.
I want it to be real.
Even thinking it breaks me, frustration turning to sadness. Knowing that whatever this is… is just a figment of my imagination. Me feeding into my own delusion. Desperate to hold on to the only thing that has ever brought me any kind oftruesolace. But it also makes me question my sanity…
I want it. I want to keep it.Keep you.
The comfort eases the buzzing in my chest, but it does nothing to calm the desperation I always seem to feel, wanting to keep you close to me.
Sooner than I expected, the taxi turns into a beat-up tow yard. I turn and stop at a liquor store across the street to bide my time. I pull out my phone and text Jack—this will be the last update until it’s done.
Me: Package found, it will be delivered by end of day.
Jack: Be sure to handle with care.
Me: You really are a fucking creep.
I don’t bother waiting for his reply, because knowing my friend, it’ll be unhinged as fuck. Underneath all those charming looks and charismatic persona, he is one crazy motherfucker. Hell, just the other week he was talking about his latest obsession. The guy is certifiable, obsessive, and capable of doing things so heinous it would make a psychopath run for the hills. One of the many reasons I like to keep the guy around. And would never want him to be with Calli, not that he would ever try. The guy is as loyal as a goddamn golden retriever.
I find myself spacing out, eyes on the broken liquor store sign. I hop out, entering the run-down store. I grab the nearest bottle of whiskey and two cigars. As I exit, I notice the sun beginning to dip down in the sky—the October air cool and crisp.
I take a moment to appreciate the view before climbing back into the truck, placing the bag on the passenger seat. If I’m right, once he gets his car, he’ll head out of town. There’s only one way out from where we are, and I doubt he’ll go back the way he came.
Twenty minutes later, I see him exit the impound office with his vehicle, despite his suspended license. He must’ve paid them off, the greasy bastard. He pulls out in the direction I hoped he would.
Perfect. The sun is down, and he’s heading into the desert.
The trap is set.
But to my surprise, he turns around and begins driving toward me. He pulls into the liquor store parking lot, parking far too close to my own truck. I keep my head low, chuckling to myself. The guy gets a DUI and his first stop is to buy more alcohol. That’s actually funny as fuck.
His stop is brief, thankfully, then he’s continuing on in the direction I need him to.
I turn up the radio as I follow behind, closer now. This needs to be perfect. We’re several miles outside of Vegas now, no other headlights to be seen. I speed up, hitting the gas hard as I pull up right behind him then swerve into the opposite lane and speed ahead. I slow down once I’m in front and brace myself.
I brake.
I feel the impact of his car almost immediately. He was only going about forty miles per hour, so he should be relatively okay—as long as he was wearing a seat belt.
I exit the truck and walk calmly to him. The front end of his old truck is crushed in and smoking. Allen is moaning, clutching his clearly broken nose. I pull hard on the door, but it sticks and I grunt as I drag it open. He is, in fact, wearing a seat belt.
“Good. It would have spoiled my plans if you died.”
Allen looks up at me, dazed, before I see the realization spread across his face, his eyes widening in alarm.
“Motherf—”
I knock him out immediately, pulling his body from the car. I drag him over to the now-very-dented bed of my truck and haul his body onto my shoulders before tossing him in the back. I climb into the driver’s seat and make my way to his final destination, my blood singing with adrenaline.
About an hour later, I walk into the dilapidated building where I have the piece of shit tied up. My face is calm, my movements fluid. I can hear his muffled screams before I enter the room.
I say nothing, setting my bag down gently on the table in front of him, and begin pulling out my assortment of weapons, carefully inspecting each one until I decide how I want to start this.
The silence is loud.
I saunter over to him and pull the gag from his mouth.
“Please… Please, Cade… You want money? I—I can give you money… Just please… Let me go,” he says in a tone only a desperate man at the end of his rope could muster.
