"For now."
"You showed him."
Ricky smiled. "Nah, he's just regrouping."
"Which still means you were more than he bargained for."
Ricky shrugged and was starting to speak when running footsteps sounded. He took off at a lope.
"So I guess the hound wasn't protecting someone," he said as I caught up. "It was holding someone captive. I shouldn't have waited to wake--"
"That was my call," I said. "I didn't want the Huntsman zapping back into it and coming after you again."
He glanced over, telling me he knew that wasn't why I'd insisted he rouse the beast.
"It's not like our quarry is sneaking off into that good night," I said, waving in the direction of the crashing.
He grabbed my hand and squeezed. "Thank you."
"Pretty sure I haven't done anything."
"Yeah, you have. You always do. Fuck, I love you."
"So...hunt?"
He laughed and smacked my ass with one hand. "Yes, my lady. No more inconveniently timed spontaneous displays of affection. On to your hunt."
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
We flanked the captive, and ran alongside him until we reached the perfect spot, where the trees thinned to my left. Then Ricky veered and barreled through a pile of dead leaves, startling our target, making him swerve toward open ground.
When the man entered
that semi-clearing, he glanced over his shoulder, saw Ricky, and then turned back to find me right in front of him. He pulled up short, his arms windmilling and--
It was Ciro Halloran.
"Who are you?" he said.
"Turn around," Ricky said.
As Ciro did, I circled him in case he went after Ricky.
Ciro's forehead wrinkled. "Do I know you?"
Ricky walked farther into the moonlight. "Is that better?"
Ciro's expression said it wasn't.
"You don't know him?" I said.
Ciro shook his head slowly, his gaze fixed on Ricky.
"His photos were found in your condo," I said. "Surveillance photos you'd taken."
"Surveillance photos?"
"He's Rick Gallagher," I said, watching for any glimmer of recognition in his eyes. "Of the Satan's Saints."