“Why the mask?” I ask, loving how much he likes my hair.
“Shade is going to do his best to make your image disappear wherever the day takes us, but if he misses something, I don’t want anyone to recognize you.”
“What about you?”
“I can shield my face.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know about the white fox? Our powers?”
“No.” My education of the fox came late in life. My family didn’t feel the need to tell me anything.
“Most of us can shapeshift our faces. I do it when I’m on the job. It’s why I am successful at what I do. No one remembers my face.”
“Can you look like anyone you choose?” I ask, fascinated. My mate has many skills.
“If a certain face comes to mind, that’s who I become. Usually, I focus on an average face I make up in my head, or to them, my features will be a blur. It wouldn’t be right to use the face of anyone I know. There he is,” he says, slowing the car. “That’s his car.” I follow his line of sight and see a minivan in front of us.
“What do we do?”
“Follow.” He lifts a shoulder. “Most of my job is boring. I find out who they are, where they go, and what their habits are. I do extensive research. I have to be invisible.”
“My mask,” I mumble.
“Yes. You can’t shield your face. Right now, we are just driving. When we make our move, you have to put it on.”
“What about your car?”
“It can’t be traced to me. Not the real me.” His lip tips up. “You’re mated to a ghost.”
“Is it wrong that I find you even more attractive?” I lift a brow, and smile.
His grin widens.
“Not at all.” He cups my knee. “It’s hot as hell that you wanted to come with me.”
I push up my sleeves, suddenly warm.
“So, if we are killing him in a remote place, why do I need the mask?”
“A sick fuck like him doesn’t deserve to see your beautiful face before he dies,” he says roughly, and I inhale sharply. “I hide my face until they are close enough to kill.”
“Do you always use knives?” I glance at the wicked blade on his thigh.
“Yes. I’ve never owned a gun. Using a knife is personal; I have to be close enough for them to look into my eyes. I don’t want to be like the cowards who killed my dad,” he says softly.
“I understand,” I respond solemnly, and he slows down. I look out the window. “He's stopping.” We park three cars behind him. “No.” The sick feeling is back.
“He’s preparing,” he mumbles. “There is no reason a grown man who doesn't have kids or siblings would go into a toy store.”
“Shit. Are we going in?” I nibble on my fingernail.
“No. He doesn’t know we are following him. He won’t run, and Shade will have access to the cameras,” he explains.
“You don’t think he has a child now, do you?” I glance at him as he pulls out his phone, and I drop my arm.
“No. He is traveling. The cops were too close to the truth. He abandoned his home, job, and friends. Shade has tracked his presence across states. This is the only thing he does now.” He pulls down the visor in front of me. “I don’t want him to catch a glimpse of you when he returns.”
