Primal Pursuit

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“You’re implying that I have a good side.”

He smiles and helps me slip on my coat before opening the door for me. “See you tomorrow, Poppy.”

“See ya.”

The door shuts, and I come to a screeching halt when I see the woman standing in front of me. “Jacinta? What…”

“You said you just wanted to see what Myth was about. That’s why you blackmailed us, right? Just to get in.” She pulls her coat tight, worries etched on her face.

“Yes. I know. And I got in. Our deal is done.” I try to brush past her. “You won’t see me again.”

“I don’t know what you got yourself into, but I need your word you’ll keep me and my husband out of it.”

I still, and ice-cold fingernails scrape down my spine. I turn to face her. “What are you talking about?”

“What happened to your neck?”

“I cut myself shaving,” I snap. Then I take a breath. “Sorry, long night. I caught my necklace on something.” The makeup must have worn off. But she’s already dismissing it.

“You promised you’d leave us alone after we got you into that club.”

“You’re the one who came to me tonight.”

“Please. I’m begging you. Leave me and my husband out of whatever it is you’re doing.”

“What the fuck are you going on about?” I snap, and she pulls out a card, holding it out to me.

It’s blank except for a name and an address.

“A man told me to tell you to go here. Something about unfinished business.” She holds up her hands after pressing the card into mine. “Just leave us out of it. He wasn’t nice. He said to tell the fake Jacinta to be there no later than one a.m.” Her eyes get really big. “OrI’llbe in trouble.”

“Fuck.”

“Please just leave us the fuck alone.” And with that, she hurries away and gets into a waiting car before it drives off.

I look at the card with trembling hands.

Brian T. Hubert.

Who the fuck is Brian T. Hubert?

I take a quick look up and down the street before getting in my car and placing the card on the steering wheel.

Brian T. Hubert.

What the…?

Oh, my god.

It’s not a name. It’s an anagram.

I grab a pencil from my bag and start rearranging the letters. My heart is beating impossibly fast, the sting of excitement prickling my skin. It’s him. I know it is. Solving the anagram confirms it.

Rabbit Hunter.

Rabbit fucking hunter.