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I step back into the shadows, watching as she mumbles before relaxing back into sleep. It takes twenty minutes for the sedative to kick in fully, then she won’t hear or see a thing. The wait is agonizing.

After checking my watch, I pull out the auto-injector. Thanks to Simon’s social media profile, I prepared his dose earlier.

Standing beside the sleeping Simon, I do two things at once. I jab him with the pen in the arm and clamp my gloved hand over his mouth. His eyes snap open in fear. My skull mask only adds to the terror. He tries to scream and fight me off for a few seconds, but then he falls completely still.

I yank his limp body off the bed and dump him on the floor beside my duffel. To the casual observer, my bag is unremarkable, but with the extensions open, it’s much more useful. I lay it out beside him before using zip ties on his wrists and ankles. Then, with a speed that only comes with practice, I stuff him inside the duffel and zip it up.

Before leaving, I walk around and remove the patch. His companion will remain completely clueless as to what happened. I have zero interest in anyone else. My work is always the same. One remains asleep and wakes to find the other has gone for the day. No one is the wiser until it is too late. They can never give the police details, and there is never footage to pull due to the forty-minute glitch in the system.

Making sure I haven’t left anything behind, I grab the padded straps of the bag and lift Simon up and onto my back.

There’s a reason I spend vacations and time off to hike up and down mountains with two-hundred-pound packs. Yes, I love the challenge, but there are other benefits.

Leaving as fast and efficiently as possible, I jog through the backyard. The gate is still ajar from when I arrived. I slip through and close it behind me, then head to the nondescript white utility van. Workmen come in and out of this neighborhood all the time in similar vehicles. Even if by some very small chance someone searches for this license plate, they will never find the van. The plates are replaced after every kill.

I toss Simon inside, climb in after him, and close the sliding door. Safely concealed, I remove the skull mask and replace it with one that makes me look like George Clooney.

Who doesn’t want to be captured by him?

Back in the driver’s seat, I smirk and drive away, feeling a tiny bit better. But as soon as I leave the city, my brain drifts to Emily and my hands tighten on the wheel.

“Fuck.”

Not even a successful hunt can erase her pretty smile from my mind. My cock stirs when I think of the two of us in the closet. I’m tortured by the memory of her soft skin under my hands, her taste on my tongue, and her sweet scent.

I smack my hand on the steering wheel.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

What the hell are you doing to me, Emily Walker? Who the fuck are you?

TWO DAYS LATER

Radio silence. Not one word from Emily. I sent an email informing her that the NYPD has dropped the charges against her and that Detective Hiller has been suspended for ninety days and is facing a disciplinary hearing.

All I got back was a very brief thank you and a request to bill her.

Fucking bill her…really?

As if I’m going to bill her like a regular client.

The woman is completely infuriating.

The man sitting across my desk is pouring out his heart and soul. Tears stream down his face. He was diagnosed with Parkinsons three years ago, and when he was in the hospital sick with COVID, his wife sold their house. She tricked him by saying it was medical papers. He barely remembers signing them. When he got out of the hospital, every account they had was emptied. He had just enough left in an account she didn’t know about to pay what insurance wouldn’t cover on the hospital bill.

Now he is penniless, homeless, and can’t even afford an apartment, let alone the medication he needs.

Apparently, I’m going soft. I don’t normally take on pro bono cases, but as I stare into this man’s eyes, all I can see is Emily’s face. What would she do?

Emily has become an obsession that I can’t outrun. She’s a shadow that follows me into the darkest recesses of my mind, and I never want to let her go. That’s dangerous for a man like me. My extracurricular habits make a serious relationship far too risky.

Right on cue, I hand Mr. Rogers a tissue and stand from my desk.

“I’ll take your case pro bono,” I say, and his eyes light up.