Chapter 9 Hunter #2
Later, tucked into bed with Yasha and Maru curled at my feet while season four of Inuyasha hums in the background, I drift off and dream of the day Hunter and I finally figure our shit out.
“Are you seriously eating Lucky Charms right now?” Dove demands as she steps aside to let me into the hotel room.
After only a few hours of sleep, Kiss From A Rose—Dove’s ringtone—dragged me from my slumber like her own personal bat signal.
Because my little troublemaker killed a cop.
Not just any cop either. Ryan Jacobs. Her on-again, off-again fuck buddy. Hunter’s old partner, back before he made detective. Recently suspended for putting his hands on Dove when he pushed her out of the way because Wrenley got in his face and tried to start a fight.
One Wrenley lost miserably, and honestly, where I saw it before, I’m starting to wonder what the hell Dove sees in the guy. He’s whiny and rude to her, and while he may be attractive, I’m not convinced he can handle my girl. She needs someone who can handle her.
She’s a fucking handful.
Case in point: Ryan is currently rolled up in the hotel comforter on the floor like a sushi roll.
“What? I’m hungry.” I spoon another bite of marshmallowy goodness into my mouth as I take in the scene. “Did you fuck Ryan before you killed him?”
“Why would you ask that?” Dove’s voice pitches high with nervous energy as she spins, grabbing the disposable suits from my bag.
I shoot her an Are you kidding? look.
“Because it smells like sex in here. How do you go from ‘we’re fucking’ to ‘oops, he’s dead with multiple stab wounds’?”
She blushes, pausing to think about it—which immediately sets off alarm bells. “What happened, Dove?”
“It was him… at the door. We were both surprised… though I really should’ve known better, because who uses Thomas Hardy as an alias?”
She wanders toward the bathroom, talking more to herself than me. “So I tried to divert his attention and make it about sex, and it just didn’t go the way I planned, okay? It’s not a big deal. No harm. No foul.”
“You gut him like a fish, Love Dove. What part of that is no harm, no foul?”
I polish off my cereal, drop the trash in a disposable bag, and knot it shut before tossing it into my duffel. “This is bad. It’s one thing to get rid of a bad guy… but he’s a cop. People are going to ask questions.”
Briefly, I consider calling Hunter. I’m a little out of my depth on this one. Sure, we can dispose of him more easily out here, far from the city. Hell, we can dispose of him in pieces. But if he’s ever found, things will get messy—fast.
And with his recent fight with Wrenley over Dove, all signs will point to them first.
“Wrenley knows!” she blurts, reappearing in her suit.
Silver tears line her lashes. Her bottom lip trembles. My heart stops for a beat before thundering against my ribs.
“What do you mean, Wrenley knows?” My voice goes slow, dangerous, as I approach. I guide her by the shoulders to sit on the bed, careful not to trip over Ryan’s body—now bleeding through the comforter and threatening to soak into the carpet.
Cleaning essence of Ryan out of a dingy hotel carpet was not on my bingo card tonight.
“He followed me.” Her voice is hoarse, paper-thin. “He followed me and walked in during the whole thing.”
Her gaze snaps to mine, pink-tipped nails digging into my forearms. “But I trust him. He’s not going to say anything. I know he won’t.”
“What if he tells Hunter?”
Panic slices through me, cold and immediate.
If Hunter figures out Dove is the Baby Doll Killer, it won’t take long to connect that I’m the Shadow Siren.
It’s unfathomable. The thought of him knowing who I really am… what it would do to us. Would he put me behind bars? Wash his hands of me and let me rot with real criminals—even though I only kill men who deserve it?
Would Hunter finally give up on me?
Of course he would. He wouldn’t have a choice.
He’s the law. I’m a serial killer.
Not exactly a match made in heaven.
When Dove doesn’t answer, I release a long sigh. “You’re sure he can be trusted?”
She nods emphatically. “I swear, he’s not going to say a thing.”
“Wait a minute.” I look from her, to the bed, to the bleeding human burrito on the floor, then back to her. “You fucked him, didn’t you? You kinky little bitch. You fucked Wrenley next to Ryan’s dead body.”
“It wasn’t next to it!” she yelps, springing to her feet and waving me off as she ties her blonde hair into a messy bun before tugging up her hood and adjusting her goggles. “Ryan was on the floor when it happened.”
“Kinky. Bitch.”
“Shut up.” She glares down at the bundle of meat at our feet. “Now, how do you wanna do this?”
“Small pieces. Multiple bags. I need fertilizer, so I already prepped the pressure cooker. Hope you don’t mind me stealing part of your boy toy for my flowers. I’ll take the torso.”
“Okay, sure.” Dove nods, scanning the body with her hands on her hips. Then her face twists in disgust as my words register. “Wait…” She gags. “What?”
“Yep.” I pop my p. “It’s a thing. But imagine how long that would take—pressure cookers are small. Which is why I’ll keep one bag for fertilizer, but we’ll need to dump the rest separately on the way back.”
I pause, trying to remember how many bodies of water are between here and the city.
“Actually, it might be better if you go upstate while I head back to the city.”
“Whatever you say, Death Mommy.”
She looks like she’d rather be anywhere else, and I bite my tongue to stop from reminding her we wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for her.
Rolling my eyes, I zip up my suit and secure my goggles before picking up my saw.
“Don’t call me that.”