“Yes, but I got it because of my ability to create a haunting experience.” He opens the bedroom door, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him. “I rarely go for a quick kill. I like to drag it out, menace them for a while, make sure they know they’re being hunted.”
A different kind of shiver moves through me. I should not find anything he’s saying appealing, but my body didn’t get that message.
“You’re a cat with a mouse that you torture before you kill?”
“Something like that.”
“Is it fun that way?”
My question seems to stump him as a deep crease appears between his eyebrows. He doesn’t answer me as we walk down the stairs and wait in the foyer.
“It keeps it interesting,” Specter finally says.
I nod, biting my bottom lip. I have more questions, of course I do, but my attention is pulled to the stairs as a man comes bounding down them. He’s got long reddish-brown hair in a lowbun at the base of his neck, sharp features, dark brown eyes, and a goofy grin when he sees Specter. His expression neutralizes though as it settles on me, specifically on my cheek.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters. His voice is accented, but I can’t tell from where.
“Yeah,” Specter says. “Ready?”
“No introduction?” Wraith says in a slightly teasing tone.
“Shit. Sorry. Wraith, this is Cashmere. This is my coworker Wraith.”
“I’m his friend too.” Wraith winks.
I smile slightly. He seems to have a polar opposite personality to Specter.
“Come on. Let’s go hunt us a boogeyman.” Wraith pushes past us out the door while Specter shakes his head.
“He’s damn good at what he does,” Specter says. “He’s particularly good at noticing details. If there’s a clue at your place, he’ll find it.”
“Okay.”
Wraith reappears in front of the door in a large black SUV. He rolls down the driver’s window and grins. “Your chariot, sir.”
Specter huffs a laugh, guiding me by my elbow to the vehicle. I slide into the back seat and inhale the scent of expensive leather. Guess being a hitman pays pretty well.
As we head back to my apartment, I try to distract myself from thoughts of what happened last night.
“Where are you from originally, Wraith?”
“New Jersey,” he quips, then cackles as Specter shakes his head.
“Okay. Guess it’s a secret.”
He glances over his shoulder at me. “I’m messing with you. A long time ago I lived in an enchanted place called Norway. I forget I even have an accent anymore.”
“I can hear it, but I pay attention to things like that. My mom spoke French to me, and we worked so much on my accent that I think I trained my ear to pick them up.”
Specter turns in his seat to look at me. Did he notice I used the past tense when talking about my mother?Please don’t ask.
“You speak French?” he asks instead.
I nod. “I’m rusty because I don’t get to use it much anymore.”
“I’ve always thought it was such a beautiful language,” he says.
“It is.”
