boyfriend. Lives in Tulsa. Goes to college in Atlanta . . .”
A cool, efficient sort of monster, Joss noticed.
But not efficient enough.
Joss managed to get a few pictures of him. Sent them to Jones, along with a text. See if anything pops on this guy.
As the line continued to wind closer to the house, Joss watched, doing his own thing to blend. Chatting. Grumbling about his nonexistent girlfriend. An image of Dru flashed through his mind, and he tried yet again to strengthen that connection. Just thinking of her made him more aware—she was angry now, angry and frustrated.
It was enough to distract him, and he couldn’t afford that right now.
It took a hell of a lot of control, but he had to break that connection. For now.
Until he knew just what he was dealing with, he had to focus on the man standing about fifteen feet away. The man watching a pretty college girl with well-hidden greed.
* * *
HE used the name Mike. Mike Sellers. It was one of fifteen different aliases.
Mike was bored as hell, and wasn’t expecting that to lessen anytime soon. He was being strung along by the arrogant son of a bitch who’d “requested” his services. The request had come from another arrogant son of a bitch, but it was somebody whom Mike just didn’t like saying no to.
When certain people asked for favors, it was wise to just say yes. The favors came with a lot of money, and it made those people more inclined to be friendly with you . . . and it also made them less inclined to want you dead.
Mike knew how the game was played.
So he was playing it, even though this current potential customer was being an asshole of the highest order, bringing him in and then ignoring him for days on end.
It was a power play and he knew it. Mike could play that game very well, and he’d done it more than once. He’d play it, because playing it, and winning, just meant he’d get what he wanted in the end.
It wasn’t money. Or rather . . . it wasn’t just the money.
It was the hunt.
Finding a pretty girl . . . like Alyssa. Stalking her. Learning her ways, her pattern. Then catching her. Once he turned her over, he didn’t know what happened, nor did he care. Sometimes he took his turn with his prey; sometimes he didn’t. If he decided to take Alyssa, he’d take a turn. She was his sort of lady—a beautiful, petite little blonde with big tits, a tight little ass, and when she glanced at him, it was a nervous, blushing sort of smile that made his dick swell up.
A piece like her would be fun to keep around for a while.
Going to the Art Institute in Atlanta. Amazing how easily people tossed out information.
They didn’t realize how easily they dropped it.
He’d heard her mention a few of her teachers’ names. He could figure out her schedule. Follow her. See if she had a roommate—she probably did. Her clothes were nice, but not quite high-end enough for her to be rich, so she’d probably have a roommate. Another challenge. When to grab her.
It would take some planning . . .
It was also a good way to occupy his mind. That was why he was here, after all. Bored as hell and killing time. It was one of his favorite pastimes, surrounding himself with people, looking for potential merchandise, even if he wasn’t actively hunting for a piece. Sometimes, he took a girl just to do it. Just for himself.
He could do that with her. He thought he just might.
A smile curled his lips as she glanced up at him, that hesitant, shy little grin on her face. Oh, yes. He was going to start planning. It would be a while. He’d been told this current job would keep him busy for a few weeks to a few months, and it would likely be an ongoing project if things turned out well.
But it wasn’t a problem to wait awhile before moving on Alyssa. A few months down the road, and he could start laying the groundwork as soon as he had an idea what he was doing here.
And he could fantasize even now.
Man, she was going to be fun. He could already see her, tied up and facedown in the workshop he rarely got to use. Screaming behind a gag. He’d take care not to leave a mark on that soft