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Not yet, though.
“So, what, you want to kill all of Seth’s Chasers, is that it?” My lips were against the concrete, and there were discarded concert posters and bits of garbage and debris mere inches from my mouth, but I couldn’t quite force myself to move.
“What?”
I flopped onto my back, and my ribs and head sang out in a perfect choir of discomfort. Now everything was coming into focus again, and in spite of the rain falling into my eyes I looked right at him.
“You killed the girl on the beach, and now you think you’re going to get a two-for-one special and take me out too?”
His expression was one of absolute befuddlement, and had I not been cultivating a garden of bruises along my abdomen, I might have found it funny. Under different circumstances the gesture might have been downright charming. He had the kind of inoffensive handsomeness that could have made him appealing.
Were he not trying to beat the shit out of me.
Of course, his confusion was my opportunity to strike. Given that he was willing to hit me while my back was turned and literally kick me while I was down, I was going to play just as dirty.
I sat up in one swift motion, ignoring the swelling migraine and the complaints of my ribs, and threw a sharp uppercut right into his groin.
Normally with such a low blow I’d have gone a little easy on him, trying to make a point rather than cripple the guy. However, given our current situation, I put all my strength into the hit, and it showed.
He made a gurgled eep noise and bent double, then fell to his knees. His eyes were watering, but he still managed to shoot me a betrayed look. What? We were supposed to be sportsmanlike about this? Dude had played about as dirty as possible, and I was the kind of girl who liked to give as good as I got.
I wriggled backwards away from him and managed to get myself up on both feet before he was able to catch his breath again. Now that we were on even ground, I felt considerably better about my chances.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” he wheezed.
“Bullshit. If you didn’t kill her, why did you run?”
“I ran because you saw me.”
This gave me pause. “Huh?”
“I was just supposed to wait until you got back to your car and text this number, but when I looked up, you were staring right at me. Like you knew what I was doing. I panicked.”
This had to be the most insane story imaginable for him to cook up on the spot. It was so stupid it almost sounded believable.
“Give me your phone.”
I expected he might argue, but instead he reached into his back pocket and held the smartphone out to me, before sitting down in a puddle, still wincing.
I snatched the phone out of his hand and danced back a few steps. It might seem like he was down for the count, but then again he could be faking the whole thing. I wasn’t about to take any other dumb chances.
“Is it the first one here?” I asked.
He nodded.
I copied the number into my own phone, before using the man’s to hit Call. The phone rang twice, then a smooth, deep voice answered.
“I thought I told you to text. Is she on the move?”
My blood turned to ice, and instead of a quick comeback, I simply hung up. I knew that voice all too well.
Prescott McMahon, the cleric to the goddess of death, was having me followed.
Chapter Three
I hung up my jacket on the rack just inside my door and kicked my boots onto the plastic tray. I had my wet jeans off before I even got out of the front entrance, leaving the denim in a heap on the hardwood floor. The air was warm and inviting from the fire I’d left on in my hurry to meet the detective.
My apartment was the only cushy perk of my otherwise deeply unglamorous job. And oh boy was it a perk.
