The Hunted (The Chronicles of the Hunter Book 1) Read Free

scanned the conglomeration of humanity crossing in front of his bumper. Looked like a mix of inebriated ex-party-goers, homeless citizens, city workers, and street vendors. Nothing looked odd. Nobody paid particular attention to him. He looked at her through the mirror again. She had her other eyebrow up now. Man! He had to adjust his earlier assessment. She didn’t just have riveting light blue eyes. She had really beautiful ones. Clear. Stunning.
    He looked back out the front window. Swallowed. Debated donning driving gloves.
    “LeeAnn?”
    “How do you know my name?”
    He flashed another glance at her before the light turned green. She’d narrowed her eyes. Driving claimed his attention for a moment. She waited.
    “It came with the assignment.”
    “I’m an assignment?”
    “You want to listen to music?”
    The vehicle had a fully equipped stereo, usually set to a special frequency scanning mode. He fiddled with the control switch. Bach’s Suite No 1 in G major started emanating from the speakers, filling the cabin with mellow strands of a master musician playing the cello.
    “I don’t want music. I want answers. Okay with you?”
    “Yes. And no.”
    Kane wiped his hand down his thigh before turning the stereo down. He didn’t turn it off. Background music helped with a lot of things. Like nervousness.
    “No?”
    “Didn’t you hear me earlier? This is new territory for me.”
    “Tell me about it,” she inserted.
    “I’m unsure what to tell you. And how much.”
    “I’m just supposed to be docile and uninformed?”
    “You’re alive, aren’t you?”
    She didn’t answer for a bit. Kane checked. She was frowning again. He looked back at the road.
    “I want to know how you know my name.”
    “I’m not...a guardian angel. Exactly.”
    “Really? Well. I did have that suspicion,” she replied.
    Kane choked on a chuckle. That was another oddity. He was known as the humorless type. “You could say I’m more of a hunter.”
    “What do you hunt?”
    He sucked in his cheeks, tipped his head, and debated options. When that didn’t work, he settled with a shrug that lifted the hood to his ears before it dropped back.
    “That’s not an answer.”
    “I know. I’m working on it.”
    Kane checked her reflection in his rearview mirror again. Her lips twitched. She acted like she caught his glance before turning away, looking out her window. Sunlight was making a dent on the world. Dawn touched her face, highlighting all kinds of things. A slight pout to her full bottom lip. The shadow of long eyelashes. A rose shade that tinted her cheeks.
    LeeAnn Schultz was a stunning woman.
    Not good .
    The complication of keeping her with him multiplied. Kane turned his attention back to the road. They’d reached the Overseas Highway. The freeway merge claimed his attention for a span. Even at this time of morning, there was traffic.
    “You’re a very careful driver.”
    “Bad driving can be a deciding factor in any situation. That’s how they caught the serial killer, Ted Bundy. And Berkowitz. Nobody caught them with detective work. You sure you don’t want to listen to music?”
    The opening strains of Chopin’s Nocturne in B-flat minor had just started up. Kane considered turning it up a little. Chopin was considered an operatic composer. A poet of the piano. This piece was one of his best. It might soothe the dismayed expression she’d just assumed as she’d jerked her head back to look at his reflection. And then she started wriggling about.
    “Calm down back there. You’re safe with me. I swear it.”
    “You just compared yourself to...serial killers!”
    Her voice was shaking. At a slightly higher pitch than before. For some reason, that affected him.
    “See? I have to watch what I tell you. And how much. I bring out that driving issues can change everything and look what happens? You react.”
    The leather continued to creak as she moved about.
    “LeeAnn, listen! I was trying to explain that