He shrugged, “No reason. I just didn't expect him to be there." "It sounds as if you know him."
"We've met before."
His voice gave little away, and the shadows hid any reaction there might have been in his face. “Then why in hell haven't you said anything before now? You might know something that could have helped Monica—"
"Nothing can help Monica. The child has chosen her own path."
"But before—"
"Was still too late."
"Will you let me finish a damn sentence!” she demanded in exasperation. Michael smiled slightly but didn't respond.
She chewed her lip absently and studied the street ahead. “Why are you in Lyndhurst?” she asked after a moment.
"I came to Lyndhurst to stop the boy.” He met her gaze briefly. “As you have already guessed." By stop, she knew he meant kill. She shuddered. Was this the darkness she sensed—an ability to kill as easily as he breathed?
"Trust me, Nikki,” he said gently. “I'll explain when I am able." Yeah right, she thought. Heard that one before . “Then tell me about yourself." He hesitated, and in that instant, she sensed he'd give her nothing but lies. He was here for the boy and nothing else mattered. Not her, not anyone.
"I am a bounty hunter, of sorts. I have been on the boy's trail for several years now."
"Why?"
He shrugged. “Because he is a killer who must be stopped." She frowned. The slight edge in his voice suggested the reason was something more personal. But it was also a warning to go no further.
She returned her gaze to the street, and her stomach lurched. They were nearing the docks. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, reaching for the images of the old building. The certainty of its position came instantly, and with it, fear. He was there, waiting for her.
"Turn right into the next street,” she murmured, letting her instincts take control. “Then left. We're nearly there."