The Killing Game

Andi gazed at him. Perplexed, she asked, “What do you mean?”


“Could they know you’re pregnant?”

“No!”

“I just thought maybe they’re targeting you because they think you’re the most vulnerable. That you’ll cave easiest.”

“They don’t know about the baby because I just found out.” Andi stood up and Luke stood, too.

“That’s not it, then. Shit. I’m doing this wrong. I shouldn’t have said that. Bolchoy would have my head if he were here.”

Andi felt dizzy. “I’ve gotta go pack my house.”

“I’ll take you home. No packing. You need to lie down.”

“I’m fine . . . really . . . I just need to rest a while.”

Luke threw some cash on the table and Andi felt like she was moving through water as she pulled up her bag. She heard his terse, “I’ve got it,” and then he was guiding her back to his office. She realized he hadn’t given her a chance to pay her half.

*

Andi sat on her couch amid the boxes, feeling like an idiot, while Luke glanced around, taking in the signs of her packing. “I’m fine,” she said with more conviction than at the restaurant. “I don’t need to lie down.” She’d been scared that she was facing another blackout, but she’d known almost immediately that it was a reaction to the news and maybe too little food that had accounted for her faintness. Luke had gotten her a glass of water as soon as they’d entered her house and she’d bounced back.

“When is this move taking place?” he asked.

“Movers are coming tomorrow afternoon. A lot of this is going to storage. My cabin’s too small for most of it.”

“The movers are taking everything. You’re not lifting anything yourself.”

A part of her was irked that he sounded so authoritative. Another part wanted to just close her eyes and say, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” It had been too long since she’d been able to lean on anyone.

“Yes, the movers are doing the heavy lifting. My friend, Trini, said she’d help,” she added, though all Trini had said was that she wanted Andi to meet her new guy. That was the extent of their weekend plans together, and that one was iffy at best.

“You said you just found out you’re pregnant.”

“After I sold this place, yes. The cabin’s small, but I wanted to move.”

He nodded.

“Do we need to write up a contract or something?” she asked. “This has all been kind of weird.”

“First I want to get clear what you want me to do. Keep an eye on the Carreras. Keep them from threatening you and carrying out those threats. Find out if the Carreras are behind the note that was addressed to you, and offer you protection.”

“Yes. Right.”

“What about the broken lock—at the cabin?”

“I think it’s being taken care of.”

“Let me know.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“What about a meal? You didn’t eat anything.”

“I had a few bites. What I really need is my car back. I appreciate your driving me home, but I’m okay. Really. I’d like you to take me back to it.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.” Andi got up from the couch. She felt vaguely light-headed, but as he’d pointed out, she hadn’t eaten. “Maybe a little food is a good idea.”

“We can pick up your car and follow each other somewhere.”

She thought she should disabuse him of this protection thing. It felt ... self-indulgent ... but she said instead, “There’s The Café near the Wren offices.”

They were heading outside to his somewhat battered Ford truck. Luke asked, “What’s the café’s name?”

Andi broke into a grin as she climbed into the passenger side of his vehicle. Seeing her face, he asked, “What?”

“Never mind. Let’s get to my car and I’ll show you how to get there ...”





Chapter Five



Sometimes it’s easiest to let the game begin on its own. I’ve tried forcing the start a time or two, but it’s better to see what move your opponent makes first. I’m watching several players. I have them ranked already. One of them will be there at the end . . . the others are way stations. Incidental stopping points. Sidebars.

So much to do. Tumblers must fall in place.

Unconsciously, I start to pleasure myself just thinking about it, but I stay my hand.

I need to draw out the ending until it’s excruciating.

My blood races hot. I can feel myself slamming into her already, my fingers on the delicate bones at her neck. It’s so easy to crush little birds.

Little birds . . . so incredibly perfect.

*

Detective September Rafferty shaded her eyes against a persistent afternoon sun and watched a hawk glide over the scrubland at the end of Aurora Lane. Pointing, she asked, “Where does that field end up?”

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