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Another smothered my scream as a figure pulled me into a dark alley.
The smell of leather mixed with the musty scent of the concrete passage while the sound of dripping water echoed with the distant sounds of car engines on a nearby road. Mingling with my ragged breaths through my nose.
“Don’t scream.” The deep voice sounded like sandpaper scraping over gravel. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ms. Payne. I have something to tell you, and then you can be on your way.”
I jerked away from his touch. Taking several steps back and clenching my fists, I glared at his red-and-black mask. Realization consuming me with anger.
“It was you,” I accused. “You had that guy try to mug me.”
“That man mugs lots of people,” the Vigilante said, stepping between me and the alley’s entrance. In case I got any bright ideas to try to run, I guess. “I might have given him a tip that you had a large stack of cash in your purse. The rest is on him.”
“He could have killed me!” I snapped.
“I always vet my prospects, Ms. Payne.”
“What does that mean?”
“The man is a thief, but he’s not violent. I would never put you in danger, Ms. Payne.”
“Says the guy who yanked me into an alley. What do you want?”
He taunted me by taking a step closer, a smug smirk pulling at his lips, the only part of his face not covered.
I didn’t appreciate him scaring me like this, making my heart spasm with vulnerability. I mean, what the hell? No woman liked to be dragged into a dark alley at night, and it pissed me off he’d had the audacity to do this.
“I saw your press conference yesterday,” he said, as if expecting a reaction from me.
“Interesting. I didn’t realize sewers had television screens.”
His smirk faded, and he stepped forward again, his steps certain and slow.
I bet he wanted me to back up, wanted me to show my fear, but I swallowed it down. Because screw him.
“You keep forgetting that I saved your life, Ms. Payne.”
“While I appreciate you saving me, you keep forgetting that you ended two dozen others. You’re a serial killer.”
“Is that really how you see me?”
Yes. No. I don’t know.
Ugh! I told myself I wouldnotacknowledge this confusion anymore. This guy wasn’t just a ruthless killer; he was a manipulator, toying with my emotions to try to lure me to his dark side of thinking. This was proof of that, and I hated him for it.
Angling my chin up slightly, I challenged him with, “You still haven’t told me what it is you want.”
“I can’t have what I want, Ms. Payne.”
“Do you enjoy speaking in riddles?”
His lips tugged up devilishly. “Do you enjoy solving them?”
If he thought I’d stand here and wait around for him to get to his point—or accomplish his next act of violence—he had another thing coming.
I dug around in my purse—the one the mugging guy failed to steal—hunting for the small aerosol container that contained poisonous gas for his eyeballs. I could only hope my mace would penetrate that mesh screen that covered his arrogant eyes.
I whipped out my trusty mace, holding it with both hands as far away from me as possible, my finger close to the trigger.
“Back off!” I shouted.
