Chapter 10 Lark
LARK
Iwaited in the shadows.
No one saw me. No one would, unless I wanted them to.
I bit down on my tongue. I liked the sting of pain. It cleared my head. Right now, I did not want to think about Ed, or what he might have done.
No. I wasn’t going there.
I shifted restlessly, huddling in my jacket. It was cold tonight. Pent-up energy was building inside me. I needed a distraction.
My hands slid to my knives in the sheath on my belt. Yes, I knew exactly the distraction I needed.
Laughter filled the night, and my gaze lifted to the bar across the street.
A golden neon sign glowed in the window.
The place wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t some upscale bar that attracted tourists.
It was the kind of place that got a regular, local crowd.
A place for friends to drop in to for a drink after work, or for a casual, first-date drink.
Things I had no experience with. I’d never done either of those things. I didn’t have friends, and I didn’t date. I wasn’t a virgin. I’d hooked up a few times to see what the fuss was all about.
I’d found it mostly uninspiring and not worth a repeat.
Besides, I hated someone close and in my space.
You liked it just fine when Bastian held you close. You liked it even more when you were fighting.
I gripped the hilt of my knife. Released. Gripped. My gaze drifted up to the roofline of the bar. The tops of several casinos were visible beyond. I could just make out the bronze glass of the Avernus.
Yes, something about Bastian set my senses alight. So what? I was female. And he was a male that could make the pulse of any woman go haywire.
A group of three women stepped out of the bar snapping my thoughts off Bastian. The friends were laughing and hugging. Two of them set off down the sidewalk while the other one turned in the opposite direction.
She was smiling and looking at her phone as she walked. I shook my head. She wasn’t aware of her surroundings at all. Stupid.
She didn’t notice the man, half a block down, smoking a cigarette in a shadowed doorway.
Watching her.
Yes, I’d done a little research. While I’d been sitting in my empty apartment, I’d read all about the rapist hunting on the Las Vegas streets.
There had been four violent attacks in good suburbs. Women who’d been out and were walking home alone.
He’d left DNA, but the police had no suspect to match it to.
I pushed off the wall. Ahead, the man followed the woman.
And I followed the predator.
It hadn’t taken me long to find him. I pored over the reports from the other attacks and found security footage from the area. With a lot of time and patience, I’d found him. Sure, he was being careful enough to evade the cops, but he couldn’t evade me.
Those of us who moved in the shadows were good at spotting others who did the same. And I had a good eye for spotting a bad guy.
I stuck to the shadows. I was going to take him down. He liked to hunt women. He felt strong and invincible.
I planned to give him some of his own medicine.
The woman looked up from her phone long enough to cross the street. Then, continuing her poor choices, she slipped into a small park to take a shortcut home.
Shaking my head, I watched the man pick up speed. Yeah, he scented blood in the water.
I scanned the park, noting a soccer field and a tennis court. There was also a small kids playground dotted with some trees. The woman disappeared into the trees and the man followed her.
Yes, I imagined he was feeling very excited.
By the time I entered the park, I heard the woman scream. I cleared the trees.
The man had grabbed her near the swings.
Her bag was on the ground, the contents spilled out on the grass.
He shoved her hard, bending her over the back of a park bench.
He tore at her clothing, yanking her coat off her body.
Terrified, she cried out. She tried to fight him, but he hit her in the face before ripping her shirt. The woman sobbed.
I stepped into view. “Let her go.”
The man’s head snapped up. He was middle-aged, short, had salt-and-pepper hair, and heavy jowls. His shirt stretched over his heavy gut.
Just a regular guy that you’d pass on the street and not even look twice at.
“Piss off,” he growled.
“Not tonight. Tonight, I came looking for you.”
He released the woman. She fell to the ground, in shock and sobbing hard.
The man advanced. “You’ll do. I just want pussy.”
All my anger and pain twisted inside me, sitting up like a hunting dog. Now it found a target. With a practiced flick of my wrist, I tossed my knife. It sliced into his chest. The second one hit him in the neck.
He let out a startled sound and stumbled back.
I advanced. My punch bent him over with a wheeze and my front kick sent him sprawling on the ground.
“How’s it feel to be hunted?” I leaned over him. “This time, you’re the prey.”
He glared up at me. “I’m going to fuck you up, lady.”
I gave a harsh laugh. “You’re not the most dangerous person here.” I pulled out another knife.
I saw a flash of fear in his eyes. Yes, something in that tiny brain of his was functioning.
“Who are you?” he asked shakily.
“Your angel of death.” He was bleeding, but not enough to kill him. I’d change that.
I flipped the knife in the air and caught it again.
Suddenly, he surged up. Moving fast, I stabbed him in the gut. His pained bellow echoed through the empty park. Then I was on him. I knocked him down again, pressing my knee to his chest, pinning him to the ground.
He yanked the knife from his neck and swiped at me. I leaped back.
A surge of adrenaline hit. He scrambled up and slashed at me again.
I cocked my head. “Come on, then.”
With a roar, he charged at me.
I slashed my knife across his throat. I felt a sting at my side, but I ignored the burn. Ending him was my only priority.
He fell back, clutching his neck, blood pouring through his fingers.
Looking down, I saw the knife lodged in my side. Dammit. I yanked it out and gritted my teeth. I’d barely felt it, but it was bleeding a lot.
I pressed my palm to the wound and felt the sticky warmth of my blood. My vision wavered for a second.
Shit. If I lost consciousness, I’d be lying here when the police showed up. That could be a problem.
I took a step back, then another. My legs were already feeling weak.
Nearby, the woman was looking between me and her dead attacker, hyperventilating.
“Go,” I croaked.
Her wide gaze snapped to me.
“Get out of here,” I ordered.
She staggered to her feet, then ran out of the park like hellhounds were chasing her.
The man made a gurgling sound. I glanced at him and saw burning hatred as he looked at me. He wasn’t dead yet, but he would be soon, as long as no one helped him.
A wave of dizziness hit.
I could finish him off or I could get away.
If I used the last of my energy on him, I wouldn’t make it out of here. I’d bleed out and the cops would find me.
Move, Lark.
I swallowed. The man was still moaning. I reached over and grabbed my knives, and even though they were bloody, I slid them back in my sheath.
Except for one.
This man wouldn’t hurt anyone else. He wouldn’t ruin the life of another daughter, or sister, or mother.
I moved to him, my steps unsteady. Then I plunged my knife into his heart.
He jerked, then his eyes went wide. He made an inhuman sound, then slumped back, staring sightlessly at the night sky.
I spun to leave, but my legs turned to Jell-o. I fell heavily on my butt. Shit. I pressed a hand to my bleeding side.
Well, this sucked.
I closed my eyes, just for a second. Emotions hit me. It was looking like I would die alone, the way I’d always known I would. Opening my eyes, I bit my lip and tried to dredge up some strength.
A shadow detached from the trees.
My pulse kicked and I watched the tall, muscular man prowl closer. Was I imagining him? He was wearing a three-quarter length coat that flared out behind him.
He looked like an archangel. Maybe the archangel of death.
Or the Reaper.
Bastian took the scene in one glance. He lifted a handgun fitted with a large silencer and fired two quick shots.
The rapist’s body jerked.
“He…was already dead,” I gritted out.
Bastian crouched in front of me. “Well, you made a mess.”
“I was going to clean it up.” Ugh, talking hurt. I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Sure, you were.”
I studied that ridiculously good-looking face of his. “You took the bandage off.”
“I didn’t need it. My head is fine.”
A part of me, deep inside, was glad to hear that. “How’d you find me?”
“Caught a glimpse of you on a security camera following that guy.”
Damn, I was slipping.
“I drove here as fast as I could, and when I saw the terrified woman running out of the park, I knew exactly where to find you.”
He pushed my hands away, reached under my jacket, and touched my bleeding side. My shirt was soaked with blood.
“Lark,” he hissed.
“It’s just a scratch.”
He made an annoyed sound. He pulled his coat off, then pressed it to the wound. Then he slid his arms under my body and lifted me.
I gasped. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t respond. Holding me tightly in his arms, he strode out of the park.
“Put me down.” I hated that my voice was shaky.
“No.”
My vision blurred and I tried desperately to hold onto consciousness. “Where are you taking me?”
“I’m going to take care of you, and stop you from bleeding all over the place.”
I couldn’t pick apart the emotions and feelings welling inside me. Take care of me? No one did that. That was my job.
“And Lark?” Bastian said.
I met his black gaze.
“This time you’re not going to try to kill me, and you’re not going to run.”