Allison Brennan - The Hunt

She’d always enjoyed hanging out with Nick. They’d been friends before they were lovers. She hoped they still were, even though their friendship seemed a bit strained. She’d been satisfied with their relationship when Nick had asked her to move in with him. She’d said no. He’d walked away.

She’d been satisfied being friends and lovers. Nick wanted more.

Like what she’d had with Quinn.

Still, she’d had a warm friendship, a good working relationship, with Nick. Why had she been so adamant against moving in with him?

Simply put, she didn’t love him. When he suggested it would be better if they kept their relationship out of the bedroom, Miranda had agreed. In hindsight, she wondered if he’d been expecting a protest.

The breakup had been a relief in the end.

“How are you getting along with Quinn?”

Miranda was surprised at his question. “Fine,” she said automatically.

He raised an eyebrow.

She felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. She almost felt as if she had to explain. “Seriously, he’s doing his job and I’m doing mine and there’s nothing more to it.”

She was rambling. Why did she have to defend her working relationship with Quinn? Maybe it was because for years she’d complained to Nick about how Quinn had stolen her career, how he’d foiled her plans.

She never told him how much it hurt.

“He’s got a couple of my men going through University records,” Nick said. “They were still in my office when I called in thirty minutes ago.”

“He told me he was reviewing the records from Penny’s years at Bozeman. But there were hundreds of potential suspects then. I don’t know how they can be whittled down if we don’t have something more to go on.”

“Quinn feels certain this guy is still single and leads a solitary life.”

“By the way, where is Quinn?” She tried to sound disinterested, but didn’t think she pulled it off.

“Helena. Picking up your friend from the airport, the lab technician.”

“Olivia?” She’d almost forgotten Quinn had asked her to help.

Nick nodded and sipped his beer. “He’ll be back late tonight or in the morning.” He paused. “I wish you and Quinn the best of luck.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

Nick sighed, started peeling the label off his beer bottle. “You’re obviously still in love with him. You’ve always been in love with him.”

“That’s not true.” Was she protesting too much? She tried to explain. “You know how it was back then. But with everything that happened, I just-well, it’s over. It’s been over a very long time.”

“Love just doesn’t turn on and off like a faucet, Miranda.” He sounded angry.

“I didn’t say that, I-” She stopped. “Nick, I’m sorry.” What else could she say? She knew Nick had feelings for her, feelings she didn’t or couldn’t return. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her best friend.

He waved off her apology and stood. “I just wanted to check in on you since I’m off duty, so to speak.” The sheriff was never really “off duty.” It had been a running joke with them when he’d first been elected.

“There’s nothing going on between me and Quinn,” she said, then bit her tongue. Why was it so important that she convince Nick of that?

Or were her protests more about convincing herself?

He gave her a wry smile. “Believe what you want, Miranda, but the truth is your heart has always been with Quinn. I never had a chance. But I only just realized it.”

“I care about you. You’re my best friend.”

He nodded, and she knew she’d said the wrong thing. Nick was in love with her and she’d called him a friend.

Why did she always put her foot in her mouth?

“I know you care, Randy. You’ve always been a good friend. But a lousy girlfriend. ‘Night.”

She stared after him, wondering why in the world he’d stopped by. To see if she and Quinn were together? To convince himself of something? She shook her head as she finished her beer and tossed the empty bottles in the bin under the counter.

She’d never understand men.

“You’re a fool.”

The Bitch was furious, but right now he didn’t care. She’d make him pay for breaking the rules later. After the hunt. But now, she couldn’t do anything.

He saw the gleam of excitement in her eyes.

He still hated her, but he hated her less on the nights they hunted together.

Her lack of patience irritated him, though.

“Why not that one?” she whined, gesturing at the brunette who had pulled into the gas station.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I want a blonde this time.”

“You just had a blonde.”

“I don’t care, I want another one.”

She sighed and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t want to be here all night.”

“It’s never taken more than a couple of hours. Dammit, have a little patience!” She never had patience. She thought he was a freak because he sat in the middle of the woods for days on end logging data about his birds.

He didn’t care what she thought about him. Right now, she was a help. Although most of the time he wanted to strangle her.

He didn’t dare touch her neck.

The brunette drove off after filling her tank. It was nearly eleven in the evening. They’d been here two hours. Traffic had slowed considerably after ten.

He placed his binoculars in his lap and waited for the next car to turn into the highway strip mall. They had a great vantage point, well concealed, up the road from the gas station, on a private drive. He knew the owner of the house at the end of the drive. An old woman, deaf as a post, who went to bed with the sun.

He’d selected this place because it was a regular stop for college students. Between the gas station, the pizza place, and the small bar, he knew he’d find someone that suited him.

He wasn’t picky. He just wanted a blonde again.

He’d hunted from this place once before. As a rule, he didn’t use the same place twice. Just in case. But enough time had passed. It was in this place that he’d found another blonde, twelve years ago.

If only she hadn’t had a friend with her.

The Bitch never let him go after Miranda Moore. It ate at him constantly. But The Bitch thought Moore deserved to live since she got away. Always, she taunted him. Always, she rubbed his nose in his failings. He hated her. Hated both of them.

Someday he’d make them pay. They were two peas in a pod, teasing him, ridiculing him.

But for now he couldn’t touch Miranda Moore. The Bitch said she’d turn him in. And he believed her.

“We’ll kill Miranda Moore if she becomes a threat, but she’s not,” The Bitch said over and over again. “She beat you, sweetheart. I want you to always remember that.”

As if he could forget with her constant reminders.

A Honda Civic pulled onto the frontage road. Bypassed the gas station and went straight to the pizza place. He raised his binoculars.

A blonde stepped out from the driver’s side. His heart swelled, pounded in his chest.

The One.

Instantly he knew, just like every other time he’d hunted for women. She was The One, and he would have her.

“I’m going,” he said.

“Wait.”

“What now?”

“Look.”

Grudgingly, he looked. The passenger door opened. A redhead emerged. Together the blonde and the redhead walked into the pizza parlor.

“Wait,” The Bitch told him.

“No.”

“I said no more pairs. It’s too risky.”

“All right.”

She relaxed, and he opened the passenger door.

“Where are you going?” she demanded, almost leaping across the seat to grab him.