“Mmm…” He stares at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He turns around and drops the bag. Crouching, he unzips it. “Put these on.” He hands me a pair of leather gloves. As I slide my hands in them, he grabs a pair for himself. I look over his shoulder while he puts them on, curious to see what he brought.
“Will I be able to see through your disguised face?” I ask.
“You already are,” he mumbles, holding a little pouch.
“Really?” I tilt my head, concentrating on his features.
“I shapeshifted when we got here.” He looks at me. “Apparently, my mate is immune to it.”
“Good. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing another face on my mate,” I say, and he takes tools from the pouch and picks the lock. “So many talents.”
He chuckles, and the door opens. The only light inside is a dome light over the stove. We step inside, and he shuts the door. The kitchen is simple and small. I follow Ezra through it and into the living room. It looks like any other, and I can’t imagineanyone committing horrible crimes in it. I stare at the couch with a knitted blanket thrown over the back. The front door is across from me, on the other side of the room.
“Fuck.” I look at Ezra. There is a hallway to the left, and he is staring into the room. I turn toward him and take a step. “No,” he growls, holding up his hand. “You said you would follow my orders. Do me a favor, and stay there.”
“What is it?” I stop.
“You don’t want the visual to go with what we know of him.” He shuts the door and closes his eyes.
“Ezra,” I whisper.
“He’s going to die.” He opens his eyes, and they glow yellow. “I want you to stand where you are and not move.”
“Okay.” I trust him, and if the room caused his calm to shake, I don’t want to see.
Instead of thinking about it, I watch him move around the room. He looks out the front window and then replaces the curtains. The bag is opened again, and he removes a large black tarp. Holding it in his hands, he paces toward the door, and I wonder if he’s counting steps. He walks back and faces the door, flicking the plastic. It rolls in the air and gently coasts to the floor. He bends over and adjusts it. The oval shape reminds me of a body bag.
The room darkens as the sun sets, and I call on my fox. Her vision can penetrate the fading light. My body hums, and my animal is sensing danger.
“He’s coming,” Ezra says softly.
“What’s his name?” I ask.
“Richard.” He steps back. “Stand in the kitchen,” he demands. I move quickly, leaning against the counter. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“It will happen quickly.”
“Do what you need to.” He nods and slides the knife from his thigh strap. He holds it easily.
The car stops in front of the house. I hold my breath. His feet step on the gravel. A door opens, and then I hear the crinkle of plastic sacks. He’s bringing the things he bought, and I swallow hard. I follow his motions as he secures the car and walks toward the stairs in front. I count them, one…two…three…four. Keys rattle, he drops them, and hums. I can smell his scent. It smells like baby powder and cologne. It makes me nauseous, so I dim my sense of smell.
He finds the right key, and it slides into the lock. My heart races, and I hope it’s not distracting my mate. He seems steady; his focus is on the door.
More rattling as he juggles the plastic. The door creaks open as if in slow motion, but I know it must just be me. Richard is looking down as he steps over the threshold, intent on the things in his hands.
Ezra’s knife flies through the air. It happens in a split second.
“What the—” Richard stares at the knife protruding from his thigh for a moment. Shock in the sound of his voice, and confusion filling his expression. In the next moment, the bags are on the floor, and he falls forward, landing on the tarp. “Who?” he groans, his shaking hand moving to the handle. Kneeling on his good leg, he stares at my mate.
“I usually don’t speak much to my targets,” Ezra says calmly, crouching next to him. “I could have killed you.”
“Why?”
