Page 41 of Sinner's Sacrifice

“What kind of someone are you?” she asked, allowing her curiosity to color her voice. The horror she kept to herself.

“I am a man of many talents,” he said, then laughed for no reason she could see. “One of them is killing vermin. The other is to provide a very specialized procurement service.”

“You procure...people?”

“Yes.”

Holy shit. “Are you...good at your job?”

“Very.”

“And someone wants me?”

He leaned toward her as if he were about to share a secret. “Badly.”

She screwed up her nose. “Ick.”

That made the man laugh. And then he was running toward her at full tilt, his scary-ass smile a grim caricature on his face.

Adrenaline swept through her body in a flash of electric lightning. She pivoted slightly, using the duffel as a barrier, shoving it into his body at an angle so he plowed into the wall rather than tackling her.

He grabbed it, but she’d dropped it already as she tried to slide past him toward the door.

She took two steps before hands grabbed her by the neck and thrust her with horrifying strength into the wall. Her head bounced off, and the pain exploded out from one temple to encompass her entire skull.

Her vision blurred and darkened for a moment before she realized the maniac who’d been hired to grab her had her face down on the floor while he put handcuffs on her.

He rolled her over, still grinning like a fiend.

“Ouch,” she said mildly.

He leaned down, putting his face close enough that she could smell his slightly minty breath. “I’m almost sorry I have to part with you. You’re not like the dirty whores I have to clean up.”

She stared at him. The pain throbbing through her head making it harder to connect the dots of his comment than it should have.

Dirty whores?

“Do you...” She paused, her breath stalling in her chest at the horrible suspicion building inside her. “like to use a knife?”

For the first time, true joy radiated from his face. “Yes!” He studied her face. “You’ve seen my work, haven’t you? Tell me you’ve seen it.”

“Sharon,” she whispered. Just that, just her name. This average, bland asshole was the serial killer who’d killed who knew how many sex workers and homeless people.

The joy on his face died in an instant. “Got away from me, the stupid bitch.”

He knew her name? He remembered his victims?

Damn it, she had to survive, had to get free, so she could kill the sick jackass herself.

He liked that she didn’t panic. He was proud of what he’d done. He seemed happy to have someone to brag to. Could she use that?

Sam swallowed. “She died last night. The cuts you made got infected.”

Back to beaming joy. The guy only had high beams and no beams. “You saw them?”

“Yes, they were—”

The door behind Sharon’s killer exploded into a hurricane of wood, splinters, and debris. For one moment Sam had a clear view of Yvgeny standing in the ruined doorframe. And the expression on his face was horrible. Rage filled his gaze with an unholy fire, while murder pulled his lips back, exposing his teeth.