Page 40 of Sinner's Sacrifice

Sam looked at the hotel guest. His features were...bland. His face was unlined, not in the way youth and health prevented lines or wrinkles, but as if he’d never felt a strong emotion in his life.

“Thank you for coming,” the man said, his voice now as bland as the rest of him. He even dressed bland, in beige slacks and shirt.

No one was this...dull and ordinary. She looked into his eyes, expecting to see worry, concern, or some level of anxiety, but there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing. No concern, no relief, no emotion at all.

The only time she’d ever seen eyes like this in a living thing was the time she’d gone to the zoo, and she’d watched an enormous crocodile in his habitat for nearly an hour. That reptile had the same empty, yet dangerous, gaze.

A knot of unease began to form in the pit of her stomach.

“Are you the injured person?” she asked, working to keep her voice professional. It was harder than it should have been. Why was this guy making her feel uncomfortable?

“Oh, no. It’s my brother,” the guest said. “He tripped and cut his leg. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but he’s bleeding on the carpet, and it won’t stop.”

“I’m happy to take a look,” she said. “Though if it’s serious, I may recommend going to a hospital.”

A smile slid across the man’s face, but it was so superficial she expected it to crack and fall off. “Thank you so much for coming,” he repeated.

His words were spoken with far too much fake cheer, and beneath it was a glee that didn’t match the polite thanks he offered.

The knot in her gut twisted tighter.

She dropped her gaze to her bag of first aid supplies, fussing with it as she pushed it in front of her so she could clear the doorway. It forced the man to back up a couple of steps. As she entered, she flipped the hinged bar lock that made opening the door impossible once it was engaged, over the empty doorframe, so it kept the door open instead.

She stepped further into the hotel room but found she couldn’t stop herself from turning, so she sidestepped into the room, giving the wall her back rather than the man who answered the door.

He stepped up to the door, flipped the bar out of the way, shut the door, then flipped the bar over again to prevent entry. Or a fast exit.

Well, fuck.

He moved toward her with a directness that was a threat. Sam kept sidestepping until she was in the middle of the room, her hands hanging on to her duffel so hard her knuckles were white.

She risked a quick glance around. No one else was there.

“What the fuck is this?” she shouted as loud as she could. But Mason wasn’t outside the door. No one was.

Besides, what did she think he was going to do? Kick in the door that was locked in such a way that it would take the police with a battering ram to break in?

“You were a special order,” the man said, an evil, happy smile on his face. “I wonder why.”

She studied him, but didn’t see a lick of curiosity in his expression or body language. “You don’t care why,” she said, her tone cold despite the deep rage that had begun to burn the knot in her stomach.

“I’m not supposed to hurt you,” the man said. “Unless you resist. Then I can only go so far.” His grin got even wider. “Still, that leaves me with several options. Are you going to resist?”

“Do you have to sound so hopeful?” she asked. “I mean, it’s nice to see an actual emotion manifest for you,” she waved her hand up and down in front of him. “But really? Hopeful about hurting another human being?”

He blinked.

Then he laughed, and it sounded rusty.

“You’re interesting. Most people panic.”

Well, he was talking to her rather than doing whatever he usually did with people. She’d roll with that as long as she could.

Sam pointed at herself. “I’m a paramedic. I’ve seen a lot of fucked up shit. Panicking never helps the situation.”

“Ah, I suppose that’s true. I hadn’t thought about the kinds of things you might see after someone like me has been...around.”