Hunted in the Dark by Stacia Stone

Author:Stacia Stone [Stone, Stacia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-18T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

I startle awake when the car comes to a sudden stop. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep but once the adrenaline wore off, my body just shut down. The balled-up shirt underneath my cheek smells like sweat, as well as something spicy and earthy like freshly turned soil. He’s probably been wearing it for days. I should be disgusted, but instead the scent is strangely alluring and all I want to do is burrow deeper. That, combined with the steady thrum of tires on pavement, is almost enough to lull me to sleep.

“Hey!”

Opening my eyes, I blink against the bright sunlight and realize he’s been talking to me. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Sitting up, I push away from the door. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the brightness as I take in my surroundings. We’re parked in front of a seedy roadside motel. The lot is mostly empty: just a few semi-trucks and an expanse of gray asphalt with bits of grass and weeds growing out of the cracks in the pavement. The place looks like something out of a horror movie. The vacancy sign is lit but blows gently in the wind. It hangs from a single wire under a marquee that reads Lakeside Motel.

I bet the nearest lake is at least a hundred miles away.

“We’re staying here?”

“Sorry the accommodations aren’t up to your exacting standards, your highness.” Hunt’s voice is scornful. “You can always sleep in the trunk.”

I look away, unable to bear seeing his face in full and unbearable light. Why couldn’t he have been ugly? “I think I’ll manage.”

He has a nice smile, even when it’s tilted in mockery. It sort of lights up his face and makes him seem younger, not that he seems that old to begin with. I can almost forget that he’s planning to kill me. Almost.

“You see that kid in there?” Hunt nods to the little glass enclosure where I can just make out the shape of a person sitting behind the desk. He looks even younger than me, maybe eighteen or so.

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to go get us a room. If you leave this car or try to signal for help, I’m shooting that kid there in the face. You don’t want that on your conscience, right?”

And then he goes and says something like that. Fucking psycho.

“Yeah, I got it.”

I hand him his shirt when he holds out a hand.

He gets out of the car and steps out into the deserted parking lot. The sound of the locks clicking shut in the doors comes when he’s only a few feet away, so he must have hit the button on the remote. Without air conditioning, heat presses into me from the enclosed metal and trapped air. It feels as if I’m locked in a sauna. Like I need another reason to be sweating bullets.

Hunt’s walk is loping and long-legged as he strides toward the building. When he gets to the desk, I obviously can’t hear what he’s

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