Hunt Me! (I Crave The Chase) - Page 184

Apparently buying a truck hadn’t done me any fucking good though, at least…not now.

The two hunting cabins in Maine were located forty or so miles from Elmwood. Close enough to offer SAC support when they called for it, but far enough away that the rare citizens who knew they were there often forgot about their existence.

They were a widely spread secret—but a secret all the same.

I knew the location of every lodge in North America. Courtesy of Lydia’s teachings and the monsters she’d had us travel all over the country to kill. I’d never actually been to these two, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know where they were, or what would happen when I arrived.

So I buckled down, buckled up, and prepared for the worst.

Nieve was a dead end. I plied him with compliments, fake bonded with him over killing things, and acted starstruck. Even bringing up Lydia’s name didn’t garner any extra information—which meant that he knew jack shit.

She was my golden ticket.

“It’s so good seeing an Evans in these parts again,” he said, arm looped over my shoulder. The wooden walls of the lodge felt claustrophobic as Nieve urged me toward the massive fireplace that sat in the center back of the large visiting area. Up the steps were the bedrooms—just like the ones I’d spent my entire childhood holed up in with Lydia. “We were starting to worry—” Nieve laughed. “But it seems Lydia’s boy’s got a taste for something rare.”

Fuck, his voice was loud.

Too loud.

The group sitting on the couches by the fire twisted to look at us. And with sinking horror, I realized I recognized one of them. This is exactly why I didn’t want to come here. The pit in my stomach grew heavier, but I pasted on a smile anyway.

Smile.

Don’t show them the truth.

You can do this.

“Something rare?” One of the men—the one I fucking recognized—said. He had a handlebar mustache and his dark eyes were bright, assessing as he dragged them up and down my body. My skin crawled, and I had to force myself not to flinch. Instead, I flexed a little, watching the way his gaze flooded with heat.

Maybe I could use his attraction to me to my advantage?

That was something—right?

“Our boy’s asking about werewolves,” Nieve laughed, like it was funny. Even though these psychopaths probably thought I was trying to kill one.

“Werewolves?” Handlebar’s gaze moved from my crotch to my face and I hid my flinch. “You know, I’ve got a book in my room about werewolves I could let you borrow.”

I had no doubt there was no fucking book in his room.

Helplessly, I glanced around the other hunters. There was a woman with dark hair and a stank face that ignored me entirely. A round man with rounder spectacles and a ketchup stain on his shirt. None of them looked particularly impressive.

Pitiful, Lydia’s voice echoed around inside my head, but I forced it away.

“Nieve and I were catching up,” I grinned, bumping my shoulder against the older man. “But I’d love that book if you would be willing to grab it for me?—”

Handlebar’s eyes narrowed.

I remembered him.

He’d been there for my first wendigo. I could remember the way he’d grabbed onto me at the end—had I not realized how creepy he was then? Fuck. There was no way in hell I was going anywhere with him.

What if he really does have a book?

I wavered.

“How about…when you’re done catching up,” Handlebar’s lips pulled into a smirk, “You can come on up.”

Goddammit.