4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Present day…

I stare in the full body mirror hanging on the wall in my bathroom, brushing my fingers over the jagged S that's carved into my ribs. One letter.

I had the Piano Man right in front of my face and he got away. Not just that, but he has one up on me. He knows I'm hunting him. Knows there's a bounty on his head probably, but all he wants is to play a game with me. The guy is a twisted son of a bitch. Don't get me wrong, I've done some fucked up things in my day, but playing a game with someone who wants to kill me isn't my cup of tea. I like living, thank you.

I knew the guy was a narcissist by the way he tied me up. Had to make a show of it. He's so cocky he thinks no one will get him. He stood right in front of me, taunting me. He didn't hide his face, disguise his voice. Nothing. Remington said he's like a ghost, and maybe he is to most, but I know exactly what he looks like, how he sounds, how he smells…

There's no denying he's good at what he does, though. I've done a lot of digging on the guy. Both before he took me and after. Bodies turn up nearly decapitated. All with a music note carved into their skin. All heads of families. People who are powerful, important, and completely capable of handling their shit. Not to mention having security, bodyguards, some even have sharp shooters hidden in trees. Yet they've all ended up the same way. Dead.

The guy's got a blood fetish or something. He's obviously got a screw loose. I spent all morning digging up whatever I could on him, and all it did was turn my stomach. The crime scene photos are rough. Brutal. Even for someone like me who gets paid to kill people.

Why the fuck didn't he kill me?

All of this only makes me want to find him more. It isn't just about the money now; he's made this personal. He took me. Carved into my skin. No way I'm letting him get away with that. Right now, the money is a bonus. The goal is taking his life.

I heave a sigh and trace the scar on my ribs. It's healed but still burns now and then as if he's carving into me all over again. The pink flesh is sensitive. It's only been a few weeks since he held me captive in a cabin in the woods, cutting me just deep enough to leave a pretty scar. He knows what he's doing. Maybe he really is a doctor. Wouldn't be the first time one of them lost their mind, or gave into whatever sick urges they keep locked up tight for the sake of a paycheck.

But what about his name?

The Piano Man. There is no S there.

So, who is he really? There are many S names. Too many to even begin guessing.

Do I think he has a chance to grab me again? It's likely, yeah. I'm not too cocky to think I'm better than him. He knows what he's doing, and it seems he has the upper hand. That won't last for long, though. The Piano Man won't win this game. I'll learn and adapt. I'll get better. There's no way this fucker is getting the rest of his name on me.

I feel like I'm playing a game of hangman here. Trying to figure out how many body parts I'm going to risk for practice. Which means I have to let him take me again. He's doing me a favor by doing all the hard work. All I have to do is wait. Once he has me, I can take him out. Why chase him when he's chasing me?

I'll need to prepare for another letter. After looking through baby name websites, I decided the worst-case scenario is a three-letter name. It's possible there are only two letters in his name, but I feel like if that were the case, he would have said something along the lines of "the next time I get you, I won't let you go." But that isn't what he said.

"Every time I catch you, I'll add another letter of my name. And when the last letter is there, I won't let you go."

Plus, he said it's a game. What's the point of a game if it only lasts two rounds? Also, he's fucking Russian. They have names with letters in them just for the fuck of it.

I'm confident I have time to figure this out. To perfect my plan and make this work.

I need to be sharp and remember as many details as I can the next time he takes me. Then I need to learn and be prepared for the third time. Which could be the last. The time he doesn't let me go. The time he kills me. I don't think it will be, but I can't ignore the possibility of it.

I grab my t-shirt from the sink counter and tug it on. My cell buzzes with a call and I see it's Reese, so I answer it as I move out of the bathroom.

"What's up?"

"Did you get my invitation?" he asks.

I glance at the card pinned to the cork board by my front door. "The one for the shotgun wedding in two weeks? Yep."

"It's not a shotgun wedding asshole," he snaps back. "Josie isn't pregnant."

"So you say."

"She isn't."

"Then why you getting married so fast?"

They've hardly been together a few months.

I move into my bedroom and grab my shoes to put on.

"Because I love her."

"Oh okay. Great answer."

"Are you coming or not?"

I shove my feet into my boots and lace them up.

"Hoping to. On a very important assignment, so I'm not sure if I'll be around."

Or if I'll be held hostage in another cabin. The fact I find myself excited over this game is a little concerning. I should be scared, right? After looking at the crime scene photos and no one having any info on the guy, I should be scared shitless. But the crazy thing is, I'm not afraid of Bigfoot. I'm looking forward to being the one to end him. This is the most excitement I've had in a long fucking time.

"Justin!"

"What?" I finish tying my shoes and get to my feet.

"I said what could be more important than watching your favorite cousin get married?"

"Five million dollars."

He's silent for a long moment. "Where are you getting five million dollars?"

"It's a bounty. I'll get away if I can."

"How about I give you five million and you come here?"

"How about you let me be a big boy and earn it myself?"

Reese knows I won't take anything from him. I'm prideful and won't deny it. I like to do things myself. I enjoy being independent.

"Whatever. Are you bringing a date?"

I laugh to myself when I think of tugging the Piano Man behind me with a collar and leash, parading him around once I catch him. It's a great thought. Would never happen, but a man can dream.

"No."

"Good. Because Josie has this friend and—"

"No," I bark out.

"You didn't let me finish," he whines. Typical Reese thinking that whining will get him what he wants. Maybe it does with his girlfriend, but it doesn't with me.

"I don't need a date. Don't need you trying to hook me up with some blond surfer guy who says things like ‘dude' and ‘tubular.'"

"I say dude."

"Exactly."

"You're an asshole."

"Then why do you call me?" I huff.

"Because you're family."

I sigh. "Family doesn't mean shit, Reese."

"It does to me."

"Well, we don't share the same sentiments when it comes to that."

"That's fine, Justin. I know you love me and just don't want to admit it."

I look upwards and bite my tongue. This is Reese. He's just being nice. I don't need to be mean to him because he's annoying. He can't help it.

I repeat these things to myself every time I talk to him. You'd think by now it would come naturally, but it doesn't. I still have to talk myself into not berating him and telling him to act like the adult he is.

I sigh and say, "Did you need anything else? Or were you just annoying me? I have a bounty to hunt."

He snickers. "Good luck with that, Hawk."

Ending the call, I shove my phone into my pocket, grab my keys and wallet, then head out the door. I have a meeting to get to.