Page 45 of Unholy Masks

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

Give him whatever he wanted. Show him you cared.

Hook.

I gave him the most innocent smile. It was enough to make these men believe they were looking at something fragile, something they could easily break, easily play with.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a sip with a delighted smile. “This is delicious. Better than I imagined.”

“Right. The coffee beans are freshly sourced and freshly ground. It makes everything better.” I took a deep breath.

He laughed, and this one looked almost genuine.

“You’re one of those people whose religion is coffee, right?”

I shrugged. “Coffee is religion. You must thank me. I don’t normally share this with strangers.” I motioned toward the coffee shop.

Chuckling, he finished his cup.

“Would you like to have dinner with me? My thanks for generously giving me access to your local haunt.”

“Dinner? Tonight?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow night.” Lie.

“I’m busy tonight. Can I get your number? Breakfast? Or maybe lunch?”

“Sure, of course.”

But he wasn’t going to wait for me to call. He was going to follow me to my house—Ryden’s house.

Reel in.

I smiled a little. This was definitely fun. I had almost forgotten how fun it was to entrap these monsters in cages made of words and wile, to make them feel so secure in the hook before gutting them.

I walked out with my coffee and drove to Ryden’s house, and Mason followed me in his discreet car. He was good at it, too good. If I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have seen that he was following me.

I opened the door and walked in, taking a deep breath. The house smelled like Ryden, like the air somehow kept his scent trapped, even after he left.

I walked to the master bedroom and opened the massive window. This was exactly where Ryden would stand as he sipped his wine every evening. And this was where my obsession grew. Now I didn’t have to hide to stare at Ryden. I smiled a little.

Shadows had already descended.

Sighing, I pressed my cheek against the cold glass.

The clock ticked too loud. Too impatient.

I smiled when I finally saw him.

“Here you are, Mason. Now the game begins.”

Mason watched. He knew how the hunt worked. There was no urgency in him. Just the quiet patience of someone who had hunted before, and succeeded.

My phone beeped with a message.

Turtle Mocha: The fucker is good.

Me: You need patience.